Page 165 of Rush of Jealousy

“Fuck, Angie, you’re in a horrible position between the chance of landing an amazing internship and possibly dying because you know too much.”

“Those shows you watch…they are dramatized. Not real.”

“Pretty sureCopsis real.”

“Yeah, for petty theft crap,” I respond.

“Whatever. You’re too damn stubborn to see reason right now. And I swear you’re like a walking, breathing after-school special. You know, the ones they air on Lifetime and the defenseless girl always winds up in trouble with the bad guy?”

“I’m not defenseless,” I correct her.

“Sure, minor variable change, but the rest is still the same.”

I humor her. “And what happens to the girl?”

“Everyone dies.”

I huff. “No really, what happens?” I really have no idea what she is talking about. But I rarely do.

“She ends up pregnant, has to go into the witness protection program, or learns the true meaning of Christmas.”

“Wow, Claire.”

“Or she becomes a prostitute.”

I ignore her comment. When she gets on these kicks, the best thing is to ignore her but still let her rant.

“I have to go. I think I hear Graham downstairs. Enjoy your holiday. I’ll stay in touch.”

I log out of my email accounts, roll off the bed, and come face-to-face with Graham in the doorway of the bedroom. It looks like the blood has drained from his face. Something is wrong. A chill runs up my spine at his weary eyes and messy hair.

“Hey you. What’s wrong?” I ask. My voice is shaky.

“Change of plans. We’re going to Hillsboro tonight.”

“Okay.” I draw out the word, expecting him to give me an explanation for the rush to get there a day early. But I don’t ask. He would tell me if he wanted me to know. I am slowly learning when to push versus when to pause and accept. This looks like a pause and accept moment. “My bag is already packed.”

He nods and grabs his luggage from the closet and starts throwing in some folded shirts and pants from his drawers. “Good.” He seems to be operating with an invisible checklist—going from room to room to gather what he needs. His calm, quiet demeanor unnerves me. What is going on? Are we in danger? What has changed?

He walks over to me as I stand staring at him from the center of our bedroom.Ours. The one I am starting to visualize as being for the two of us… And here we are, about to leave its comfort.

He pulls me close to him and kisses me so hard and with so much passion that I pull back from the force of it.

“Is everything okay?” I ask softly.

“It will be.”

“Are you hiding something from me?”

“Only temporarily. I thought sheltering you from all this would be best for you. Now, I’m starting to think that telling you the truth from the start would’ve saved you from this hailstorm that is about to occur.”

“Graham…you’re really scaring me.”

“Good.”

I pull back and push at his chest. “Stop it with the fuckinggood! If you say that word one more time, I’m going to go ballistic. I need to know what you’re hiding. I need to know what I’m up against!”

“Mehiding? Me? What about you?! I’ve been working my ass off at keeping you safe and you go and literally walk into fucking danger every chance you get.”

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