Page 77 of The Roommate Lie

My first reaction is a positive one. Giving people the benefit of the doubt is kind of my specialty. It was nice of him to reach out, nice of him to remember. Though my second reaction is more complicated than that. More uneasy.

I keep my answer vague but upbeat, trying to say very little while probably saying too much. Another Alice specialty.

Alice:Yep—it went well. I think she’s glad it’s over.

I almost typethanks for asking. But there’s a prickle of dread in my stomach, and something deep inside me knows that wouldn’t be true. That I’m not grateful he asked.

This man dumped me less than a week ago, and he wasn’t close with my sister. Nicki never liked Jason, and the feelingwas mutual. There are only so many reasons he could be asking about her now.

I want my last text to be the end of it, but my phone vibrates again as dread settles in my stomach.

Jason:Did she get her official diagnosis?

Alice:Yep.

I’m being short on purpose, as vague as possible. Deep down, I think I know where this is going, and I don’t like it. Part of me, a scared and wounded part, begs him not to message me again, not to ask that next question, but Jason was never good at giving me what I wanted. And he was even worse at giving me what I needed.

Jason:Was it the genetic one? The one you might have too?

There it is.

As soon as I read that text, an avalanche of bad memories flood through me, memories I’ve been avoiding since Nicki got her diagnosis. I would love to pretend things were perfect between Jason and me before Nicki moved into my condo, but they weren’t. And our relationship only got more complicated when I found out about my sister’s vision loss.

It was the elephant in every room. The topic he never wanted to discuss. When we found out it could be genetic, that I might get it one day too, those deep silences of his only got worse.

I asked him once if that scared him, the possibility of what my future might look like. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. Asking a guy like him a question like that was never going to end well—and it didn’t. There was no comfort in his answer,no reassurance. A stormy gaze and a “that would be rough” muttered under his breath; that’s all I got.

I shouldn’t answer him now. I should pretend to be asleep, but some horrible mice-girl part of me can’t even fathom ignoring people. Besides, I’ve always been a glutton for late-night punishment. Just ask the one-star book reviews I always read after midnight.

Alice:Yep. It’s the genetic one.

I wait for him to do better now, to be better. Jason doesn’t owe me anything, but a little reassurance would be nice.

I don’t get any. Silence stretches between us via text, and it feels like it lasts a hundred years. There’s noI’m sorry, nohow is she doing—there’s nothing. Jason opts for radio silence, and I spend far too long staring at my darkened phone screen, waiting for it to light back up.

Another century passes, and I’m not sure when I accidentally fall asleep, when I give up and fade out with my phone cradled to my chest. I’m not even sure what time it is when I wake up, when I hear that strange noise outside—even through our closed windows—and suddenly, I’m wide awake.

The Victorian.

I sneak to the window and peer outside. There’s a shadowy figure on the sidewalk, there and gone in a flash, but one thing remains: the folded paper fluttering between the slats of Charlie’s white picket fence. The newest scandal sheet.

There’s no dread in my chest when I see it, only hope. As if that scandal sheet was exactly what I needed to center me, to remind me what really matters while I’m still in town.

Infiltrate the Old Birds.

Unmask the Victorian.

Maybe it’s just a distraction. Maybe this only feels important because it means I don’t have to think about anything else, all the hard stuff that’s been haunting me. With my luck, I’m just borrowing a move from Charlie’s avoidance playbook, but I don’t care. Sometimes it feels good to forget.

I have the rest of my life to worry about Jason, my family, and my DNA. But I only have three days left to track down the anonymous author who’s been going after Charlie all week. To find them and stop them before they cost him that job.

And Kilpatricks never back down. Not even when they should.

Chapter Forty-One

CHARLIE

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