Page 142 of Sin
Silence. Then a small inhale.
“She named me?”
“No.”
“But people will know.”
I close my eyes. “Yes.”
“Okay,” she says.
That one word nearly breaks me. Not panic. Not anger. Just okay. Like she has been waiting for the world to come collect.
“Don’t answer anyone,” I say. “No calls. No texts. No emails except from Owen or me. Screenshot anything you receive. Don’t delete anything.”
“Am I fired?”
The question guts me.
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Sin.”
“I won’t.”
Her voice cracks slightly. “You may not get to decide that.”
Richard’s exact words.
I grip the edge of the table. “Laurel—”
“I’m okay,” she says, which is a lie so obvious I almost laugh. “Go deal with your brothers.”
“I’m coming to you after.”
“No.” Her voice sharpens despite the sickness. “Don’t come here. Not today. Not with people watching.”
She’s right. I hate that she is right.
I love you, I almost say.
It rises fast. Hard. Desperate. But not like this. Not as panic. So I swallow it just like every other time I’ve almost said it.
“I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
“Lock your door.”
“I’m sick, not helpless.”
“Laurel.”
A faint, tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll lock the door.”
