Page 17 of Garrison's Creed

“I guess Uncle Sam thought I had too much to offer to stick me in a middle of nowhere Podunk town in witness protection when they found out I was fluent in, like, eight languages.”

“Eight? Come on, slacker. I thought it was more like twenty.”

She laughed. “Oh, now you’re counting dialects.”

It felt so familiar it made him want to tear his hair out. “You could say the same thing about me and Roman. Drowning ourselves in work. He never questioned why I was just as torn up about you as he was.”

“We’d been inseparable, the three of us, since we were kids.”

“True.” He took her hand in his and leaned them both up. The heat from her touch stayed with him after she drew her fingers away.

“I never told you this, but I actually had a crush on you way before college. Like sixth grade.”

He heard the smile in her voice. “Now you’re just making shit up. You need another favor? Cell phone privileges again, huh? Maybe you want the cute little gun you pointed at my head?”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I do.”

God, he hurt again all of a sudden. “I never told you this, but I had a ring.”

She bolted straight up. “Excuse me?”

Cash pushed up on his elbows, unsure where the fuck that honest tidbit materialized from. He laughed, not all that shocked that he’d confessed the truth, and stood up. “Good night, Nicola. Hope your arm feels better.”

***

“Oh, no you don’t,” Nicola yelled from the picnic table.

He walked into the house and shut the door before she was even upright. Hopping and hobbling as fast as her good and gimp feet would move her, Nicola tried to balance with an arm in the sling. He couldn’t throw a bomb like that and just run. Hell no.

She threw open the door and hollered, “Get back here.”

“Night, Nic.” He was halfway across the kitchen, not looking back. “Have a nice life.”

“Cash Garrison. Stop!”

He pivoted and looked at her in a way that tore her emotions into bits of shrapnel. “Why? What does it matter?”

“You can’t say you had a ring and walk away.”

“Why not? You walked away. You left, remember?”

“I left everyone!”

“You left me.” Cash laughed. “You know what? I don’t care about everyone. I never even cared about me. I cared about you. I mourned you. I died that day alongside you. But ain’t that some shit?”

“Cash—”

“Yeah, yeah. You had your reasons. But it was a good thing. Never would be here, where I am now, if you hadn’t walked away.”

She hopped two steps forward, and the pressure in her chest nearly debilitated her. “You’re a son of a bitch.”

He met her in the middle of the kitchen like they were squaring off for a round of celebrity death match, operative-style. “You’re a goddamn liar.”

The lights flicked on. Roman stood in the hallway, gun in one hand, other hand still on the wall. “What the fuck are you two doing? Nic, are you okay?”

“Yeah, what are we doing, Nicola?” Cash’s glare locked on hers.

Silence.

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