them had this kind of reach. Or vindictiveness. I can’t see any of them going to the trouble of hiring a contract killer. Which leaves Petrov. I guess it’s possible he did it. He’s in a max-security facility serving nine consecutive life sentences or something, but stranger things have happened.
This is all so far beyond my ability to handle. For a split second, I even consider telling Mike. But then I dismiss it as the Really Bad Idea it is and come to the conclusion that I’ll just have to rely on Dani’s underworld contacts for more information.
A light tap pulls me from my circling thoughts. I stand and open the door, admitting Angela to her own guest room. She sits in the desk chair, and I sit on the bed.
“Checking up on me?” I ask.
“I just saw the news. Gunshots near Loyola.”
I could lie and tell her it has nothing to do with me, but I can already tell she won’t believe me. “Are you going to tell Mike?”
She pauses, thinking. “I should tell him. But…”
“But?”
“Mike is kind of an idiot,” she says.
I smile. “You’re not getting an argument from me on that.”
She smiles back. “He has a big heart, but he often acts when he should listen. Especially when it comes to you. It doesn’t sit well with him, feeling like he can’t protect someone he cares about.”
My throat tightens. “You should try to get him to stop. Caring about me, I mean.”
She laughs. “Right. Like that’s possible. He’s more stubborn than anyone else on the planet, present company included.” She looks pointedly at me. “Besides, even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
I shift, uncomfortable. She settles more deeply into the chair.
“You probably wonder why we don’t have kids,” she says finally. “It’s not because we don’t want them. We came close several times. But I had too many miscarriages to keep trying. We almost adopted once, but it fell through at the last minute. Eventually, we got old enough that we decided to throw ourselves into our work instead. It was a painful decision, but it was the best for us at the time. And then you came along—a Molotov in a china shop.”
“Oh, Angela,” I say, intensely regretting having agreed to live here. I’ve done more damage than I realized. “I’m not that kid. I can’t be normal. And I’m an awful person anyway. You don’t want me.”
“That isn’t why I told you,” she says, her eyes a bit shinier than usual. “I’m not trying to keep you. It would be pointless and selfish to try, I know that.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
She’s thinking hard about what to confess. I know that particular expression well. I invented it.
“It’s Mike’s job to keep you out of trouble, but he won’t always be able to. I’m hoping that when trouble finds you again, and he puts himself between you and whatever’s out there, that your understanding him will help you protect each other.”
She gets up and touches my shoulder, holding my gaze for a moment before leaving.
After she shuts the door, I crawl under the covers into a miserable heap. Dani, Mike, Angela. Their care weighs heavily on me, because I care about them, too. But every time I think I might be able to have normal relationships, I remember the people I’ve failed—Tyler, my dad, Ralph—and I realize I can’t let any of them depend on me.
I rub my face into the pillow and pretend I don’t still notice the foreignness of the fabric-softener smell. It’s a nice smell, but it’ll never give me the same feeling of peace and safety it would have if I’d been born Mike and Angela’s daughter. Which is appropriate, I guess. I shouldn’t be allowed to feel peace and safety while sheltering with people I constantly put in harm’s way.
I comfort myself with the idea that I’m not completely useless—that even if I can’t wield my skills to save the people I love, I can at least use them to save total strangers. After a criminally long time, I finally drift
This is all so far beyond my ability to handle. For a split second, I even consider telling Mike. But then I dismiss it as the Really Bad Idea it is and come to the conclusion that I’ll just have to rely on Dani’s underworld contacts for more information.
A light tap pulls me from my circling thoughts. I stand and open the door, admitting Angela to her own guest room. She sits in the desk chair, and I sit on the bed.
“Checking up on me?” I ask.
“I just saw the news. Gunshots near Loyola.”
I could lie and tell her it has nothing to do with me, but I can already tell she won’t believe me. “Are you going to tell Mike?”
She pauses, thinking. “I should tell him. But…”
“But?”
“Mike is kind of an idiot,” she says.
I smile. “You’re not getting an argument from me on that.”
She smiles back. “He has a big heart, but he often acts when he should listen. Especially when it comes to you. It doesn’t sit well with him, feeling like he can’t protect someone he cares about.”
My throat tightens. “You should try to get him to stop. Caring about me, I mean.”
She laughs. “Right. Like that’s possible. He’s more stubborn than anyone else on the planet, present company included.” She looks pointedly at me. “Besides, even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
I shift, uncomfortable. She settles more deeply into the chair.
“You probably wonder why we don’t have kids,” she says finally. “It’s not because we don’t want them. We came close several times. But I had too many miscarriages to keep trying. We almost adopted once, but it fell through at the last minute. Eventually, we got old enough that we decided to throw ourselves into our work instead. It was a painful decision, but it was the best for us at the time. And then you came along—a Molotov in a china shop.”
“Oh, Angela,” I say, intensely regretting having agreed to live here. I’ve done more damage than I realized. “I’m not that kid. I can’t be normal. And I’m an awful person anyway. You don’t want me.”
“That isn’t why I told you,” she says, her eyes a bit shinier than usual. “I’m not trying to keep you. It would be pointless and selfish to try, I know that.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
She’s thinking hard about what to confess. I know that particular expression well. I invented it.
“It’s Mike’s job to keep you out of trouble, but he won’t always be able to. I’m hoping that when trouble finds you again, and he puts himself between you and whatever’s out there, that your understanding him will help you protect each other.”
She gets up and touches my shoulder, holding my gaze for a moment before leaving.
After she shuts the door, I crawl under the covers into a miserable heap. Dani, Mike, Angela. Their care weighs heavily on me, because I care about them, too. But every time I think I might be able to have normal relationships, I remember the people I’ve failed—Tyler, my dad, Ralph—and I realize I can’t let any of them depend on me.
I rub my face into the pillow and pretend I don’t still notice the foreignness of the fabric-softener smell. It’s a nice smell, but it’ll never give me the same feeling of peace and safety it would have if I’d been born Mike and Angela’s daughter. Which is appropriate, I guess. I shouldn’t be allowed to feel peace and safety while sheltering with people I constantly put in harm’s way.
I comfort myself with the idea that I’m not completely useless—that even if I can’t wield my skills to save the people I love, I can at least use them to save total strangers. After a criminally long time, I finally drift
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