Page 99 of Rook

To that, I snorted.

“No. Not even cops with all their software can hack into a password or code-protected phone.”

“You’ve seen her unlock it, though, right?”

“Yeah.” Only about a hundred times.

“Then focus. Remember.”

“Dude, who the fuck can—”

“You can,” he cut me off. “It’s all in here,” he went on, tapping my temple with two fingers. “Focus and unlock the memory.”

“This isn’t the fucking time for meditation or whatever-the-fuck—”

“It is if you want in her phone. So, if you want your girl back, clear your goddamn mind, and let the memory come back.”

My brows shot up, surprised at the fierceness in his voice. Coach, almost as a rule, was a calm voice of reason. He was the yoga-loving, meditating, woodworking member of the club.

But, I reminded myself, those were only some of his layers.

Coach was also the guy who went out of his way to fuck up the lives of the corrections officers who made his life miserable while he was locked up.

He was a guy who went away for a brutal assault against a man who’d hurt his sister.

I wondered for the first time if maybe all of the yoga and meditation was his way of keeping that darker, violent side of himself in check.

I took a deep breath and let my eyes slide closed as I held Tessa’s phone. I drifted back to the night before as we sat close together.

The TV was playing a particularly brutal scene in a show we had both been watching, and she reached for her phone to fiddle with one of her silly little matching games until the ugliness was over.

I’d been distracted by the rings on her finger at first. But I caught the last four numbers.

The year.

“I think it’s a date,” I told Coach. “From this year.”

“That’s a good start. You’re probably only missing two or four numbers.”

My mind went to the date when she’d finally run away from her old life. But I had no idea when that was. And there were too many dates to guess before getting locked out.

“What about your wedding day?” Coach asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not… like that. She’s not like that.”

“She’s got your wedding picture on her lock screen.”

“To convince Nancy.”

“Tell me you’re not actually this dense,” Coach said, shaking his head at me. “Whether or not she’s at a place yet where she can admit it, that woman is crazy about you. She looks at you like you’re a slice of that cake Detroit and Everleigh made. But to be clear—you are exactly equal with that cake,” he said with a little smile.

“She loved that cake.”

“And she loves your dumb ass too. Now try the damn date. You’re wasting time.”

---