Page 37 of Resilient Rhythms
“We could have gone out for dinner,” Mckenna reminds me as I pull a lasagna out of the oven.
I place the tray on a trivet. “I know.”
“You’re worried.”
I lift my gaze to hers and nod. “It’s been over two weeks with no sign of him. I’m worried he’s…biding his time for something big.”
“We can’t stop living our lives.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I just, I feel better when we’re here, in one of the brownstones, with Drew outside.”
“We can’t keep Drew working around the clock.”
“He’s being generously compensated for it,” I point out.
“He could train someone else.”
“I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust him.” I cut the lasagna into squares, swearing as a glob of melted cheese burns my thumb.
Mckenna places a hand on my forearm, stilling my actions. “Talk to me, Mav.”
Sighing, I tell her the truth. “I don’t want us to always stay in, feel like we can’t go on dates, or have fun. We’re supposed to be enjoying this time together. And yet, I’m fucking terrified that if we go out, to dinner or the theater, something will happen that I don’t see coming and…I’m sorry. I know I promised we’d do this your way and I feel like I’m holding you back, or holding us back, because, well, I’m scared of losing you again.”
“You’re not going to lose me, Mav. I understand that this is hard for you too. And if you feel better that we stay in until we have a better handle on the situation, it’s okay.”
“Is it?” I look up miserably.
Mckenna nods.
“It’s the silence that’s unnerving. He popped up for one stupid message and now…nothing. It still feels like he has control over us even though it’s through his inaction.”
“I know,” Mckenna says quietly. “I spoke to the detective today.”
“You did?” I look up in surprise.
“I was going to tell you over dinner.” She points to the table.
I add a piece of lasagna to both of our plates and take the seat across from Mckenna.
“What did he say?” I ask, unable to eat until I know the details.
Mckenna sighs. “They have nothing on Bran. He’s not in Texas?—”
“Of course he’s fucking not.”
“But they’re not sure where he is. He’s…lying low.”
I shake my head, pushing back and balancing on the hind legs of my chair. “Is he in Boston? I mean, we know he’s in Boston, but they haven’t clocked him anywhere?”
She shakes her head. “So, I get it, if this is our new normal for the next little while.” She gestures between us and the lasagna I made. “I promise, Mav, there will come a time for you to wine and dine me all over our city.”
I crack a smile.
“But, for now, I’m fine staying in too.”
“Okay,” I whisper, relieved that she understands. And also, fucking furious that we’re no further along in nailing down Bran than we were two weeks ago.
Mckenna takes a bite of her lasagna and moans. Pointing at the slice with her fork, she grins. “This is delicious, Mav!”
