Page 102 of The Hitman’s Final Job

What I’m not letting myself think about is where that somewhere is.

The coffee cup in my hand is empty. I stand up and take the stairs back down to my apartment.

Once upon a time, the lone figure by the door would have put me on edge. But the thing about having a best friend is that you learn all the angles of their shape.

He’s standing in the corridor with his hands in his pockets, and the arm that was in a sling last time I saw him is now free.

“You look like shit” is the first thing he says.

“Hello to you too,” I reply.

I unlock the door, and he follows me in. He takes in the apartment. The sparse, anonymous quality of it, the packed boxes in the corner of the living room, the general atmosphere of a space in the process of a moveout.

“You’re really selling it,” he says.

“I told you I was selling it.”

“I know,” he says. “It’s just—” He takes in the practically bare space. “It’s very real.”

“Coffee?” I ask.

“Please,” he says. “This place is tragic.”

“It’s always been tragic. I’m just noticing it more now.”

I make coffee while he sits at the kitchen counter, watching.

“How long are you staying?”

“A few days,” he says. “Maybe a week. I’m not cleared for field work until I pass the physical, which isn’t happening until the shoulder is fully recovered, so I took some time.” He picks up the coffee I put in front of him. “Time to come and see my best friend.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he says. “Also, you look like shit, and someone needs to address that.”

“You’ve mentioned the shit thing.”

“It bears repeating,” he says. “Is this what retired life is like? Because if so, I’m never retiring.”

“It’s been a month,” I say. “I’m adjusting.”

“That’s not adjusting. That’s marinating.”

“You can stay here if you want,” I say. “I’m keeping the place tidy for viewings so you’ll need to be⁠—”

“You’re moving to Pine Ridge?” he asks, a smile opening up his expression.

“What? No. What makes you say that?”

“Because Dad is there,” he says, like it’s a fact I wasn’t aware of.

“That’s not⁠—”

“Silas.”

“I haven’t decided where I’m going,” I say. “There are various options.”

“Silas.”