Page 4 of Make Them Cry
“We don’t want to escalate,” Mark says gently, which is wild because nothing about this feels gentle. “Looping in law enforcement can sometimes make things worse.”
“I’ve heard that,” I say. “Usually from law enforcement.”
Helena gives me a box of tissues like it’s a participation trophy. “We’re here for you.”
“Are you?” I ask softly. “Because I need you to be here for me. Not for the company. Not for optics. For me.”
Helena’s eyes do a tiny sympathetic wobble and then settle back intoemployee who has to make it to lunch.“We’ll schedule the workshop. And we’ll send a building-wide reminder about badge protocols.”
Badge protocols. Perfect. That’ll stop a swarm of bored men with Wi-Fi.
The meeting ends with a handout about mindfulness. I leave with a piece of paper that tells me to picture a calm place and breathe into it.
At my desk, Gage is gone. His chair is empty, his hoodie draped over the back like a body outline. I sit and try not to look around like prey.
My computer pings. A calendar update: all-hands moved to three. A DM from my boss…
Andrew:hey quick q—any updates on the 506?
A DM from a stranger:nice blue bike.
Another:wave at us ; )
My hands shake. I tuck them under my thighs.
“Hey.”
I jump so hard I knock a pen to the floor. Gage has materialized beside my desk, because of course he has. He holds out a small paper cup. “Decaf.”
“You think you’re funny,” I say, heart sprinting.
“No,” he says, as if he’s already bored of himself. “I think you’re shaky.”
My throat is tight. I take the cup because it’s something to hold and not because I want anything from him. The lid is on crooked. He did that on purpose, I decide, to annoy me.
“New pot’s brewing,” he adds. He leans on my desk, close enough that I can see one tiny white scar on his jaw, like a comma. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I saw HR,” I say. “Similar.”
“That bad?”
“They suggested tea.”
He snorts. “Thoughts and chamomiles.”
“Exactly.”
He studies me again with that too-quiet focus. “You should get back to work.”
“Iamworking,” I snap, then want to kick myself. “Besides, you’re the one who bothered me.”
Gage’s eyes flick to my computer, that’s technically turned off, and then back to me. “Right,” he says. “Well. Codes not going to code itself.”
“Tell me something useful,” I say, not sure what I’m asking for until it’s too late.
He opens his mouth like he might. Then his face shutters. “Get to work, Quinn.” He turns and walks away.
I watch him go and hate the way my chest goes tight, like I’m mad at him for not being the person I need and mad at myself for thinking he could be.
