Page 77 of The Liar's Reckoning

“I fucking hate people,” Silas grumbles as we arrive at the platform.

“I happen to like woke libs if it makes you feel any better,” I tell him.

He gives me a side-eye. “You sure seem to like fucking one.”

“That too,” I assure him.

“I think I’ll like you better if you stick with defending thefirstamendment.”

“I can do that,” I tell him. It’s as good a position as any to take for the next six years. It’s not like I have a core of unshakeable values other than what I’ve been told my whole life. I’m open-minded, willing to hear other points of view. Willing to learn and compromise.

He gives his head a stiff shake. “Don’t. You don’t have to humor me.”

I wasn’t, but I keep my mouth shut until the train arrives, and we board. An attendant directs us to our private room, and we squeeze in along with our overnight bags. It’s tight, but I like that for me and Silas. We need the proximity. He’s been more stint since Thanksgiving, and I need to change that if I can. If he’ll let me.

We strip off our jackets and situate our luggage, taking seats on opposite sides to wait until our assigned server arrives. Once that happens, and I let them know not to disturb us further, I’ll be able to relax. It’s just after four in the morning. Silas is exhausted and grumpy, but I’m determined to get him into a better mood. I booked this room for a reason, and it wasn’t to sleep.

“I wasn’t humoring you,” I say, picking up where we’d left off.

He glances away from the window to meet my eyes. They flash dark in the dimly lit cabin.

I go on. “All I’ve been doing the last month is studying the constitution and the federalist papers. You like the constitution at least, right?”

“What I know about it,” he says.

“I feel like you should trust me not to do anything that would disappoint you.”

“I didn’t vote for you, Graham.”

“I figured. Did you at least vote?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Either way—I’m representing all of New York, not just the people who voted for me.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this,” he says with a note of warning in his voice.

I sigh. “Fine. Can we reset, then? I feel like we’ve gone back a few steps.”

His glare levels me. “Is that what this is about?” He waves his arm at the tight space.

“Yes,” I admit.

He takes another slow look around. “It’s cool.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“A little risky, but I don’t mind if you don’t.”

I shrug. In terms of risk, it’s a calculated one. It’s the middle of the night, and most people will be sleeping. He and I may even be sleeping if I fail at turning his mood around. There are two single beds in here—no reason to suspect we shared too much space if we end up getting closer than this.

“I know this thing with Avery is bothering you,” I say.

“It’s bothering you, too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Your Catholic guilt is showing.”

I wince. “Maybe. But I’d rather deal with that than have you barely speaking to me.”

“Eventually, you’re gonna have to make a choice.”

---