Page 172 of Exposé

I raised my head, the dots connecting. "Until the Mayor's safe."

He looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Yeah."

"Okay, if you were supposed to stop me, why did you help me?"

"I made youthinkI was helping." He cocked his head to the side as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "But really, the plan was for you to get caught in his office, hold you up in legal trouble for a while, which would derail your story."

"Wow." My heart froze over, a chill sweeping over my spine.

"I know." He hung his head. "I battled with that the entire time we planned it, but I had a job to do, and you weren't going to let up."

"So why are you helping me now? If you even are."

"I saw my boss' name in the documents."

"Who's your boss?"

"Keith Brentwood."

"No." I jumped up and pressed my back against the wall, dropping the notepad and pen. "Holy shit." My hand sunk to my churning belly and pressed my fingertips into my empty belly. "I think I'm going to be sick again."

"Take some deep breaths."

"Right." My gaze locked on his, a softness creeping back into those cool brown eyes. "Let me just breathe all my problems away like in Lamaze class."

"Okay, have you been? That wasn't in your file."

"What?" The corner of my lips turned down. "There is so much to unpack from that single sentence."

"Relax, my little recluse." He stood and towered over me. "I was kidding."

"Assuming I’ve been pregnant before or that there’s a file on me?” My voice was sharp, steady, even as I moved closer to the bathroom, putting a safe distance between us. “Because right now, I can’t decide which one is more offensive—or more concerning."

"The La—"

"And also, how can you joke right now? My whole life is more upside down than a freaking Topsy-Turvy planter."

"A what?"

"Forget it." I backed into the bathroom, his broad chest three steps away from me. "I need to use the restroom."

"We're never going to get through this." Nate ran his hands through his short hair with a growl, putting his back to me.

I latched the door shut.

I'm screwed.

Leaning against the sink, its surface marred with water stains circling the drain, I stared into the mirror. My unrecognizable reflection staring back at me with swollen, red eyes.

A few days ago, life was good—simple, even. I was wrapped in his arms, the weight of the world momentarily lifted as we brainstormed, laughed, and I let go of years' worth of burdens. For the first time in what felt like forever, I'd savored the kind of normalcy I’d forgotten existed.

I twisted the faucet, the squeak of metal breaking the silence before a torrent of unaerated water burst forth, splattering against every surface. Tucking my hands beneath the water, I splashed the tepid liquid across my burning cheeks.

"I found out my boss was responsible for what happened to me and my teammates in Afghanistan."

My hands froze on my face, and I turned the water off, holding my breath for more.

"When I left that morning, I said I had to fix the neighbor's hot water heater, but really, I went into the agency to find out if what you'd discovered was true."

---