Page 9 of Revisions

Dana can read me. She can also read Candace better than most people. I think that’s what makes her so great at communication—not only helping Candace find her voice or speaking on behalf of Candace. She’s also able to see through the masks people wear. Cassidy has the same ability. And as much as it might surprise some people, so does Shell. Shell’s bravado sometimes maskshertalents.

“JD?”

“Aw, hell, Dana. If you want to know the truth, it pisses me off.”

“I assume you mean the way things went just now.”

“There are times I hate taking the high road. And that isn’t my talent.”

“What are you talking about?” Dana asks.

“Talking.”

“Come again?”

“Talking,” I repeat. “You allthinkI’m an asset to Candace.”

“You are.”

“Maybe. Not when it comes totalking. Listening. I’m good at listening. You, Shell, Cassidy—God knows, Candace—you can read people. You anticipate what’s coming before it’s thrown at you, and you already have an answer.”

Dana pulls me into the elevator that leads upstairs.

“When is Cooper coming home?” Dana asks.

“He’s staying the night at Cassidy’s. He’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Good.”

“Good?” I ask.

“Yes. That means we have time for a round of truth?—”

“Or dare?” I ask.

“Ha-ha. No. Idareyou to tell me the truth over some of Candace’s scotch.”

I can’t help but laugh. Dana knows better than most that I’m not much of a drinker. And Dana is still on medication, so scotch will have to stay in the cabinet for now. I won’t tell Dana the last time I drank a little too much, I struggled to get out of my jeans and landed on the bedroom floor. Dana has known me since college. I don’t think she’s ever seen me drunk—tipsy, maybe. It leaves me to wonder what she wants to talk about that might require alcohol.

“What do you want to ask me that you think demands alcohol?” I ask.

Dana sighs. “Maybe it’s me who could use a drink.”

“Or three?”

“Or thirty,” Dana deadpans.

I burst out laughing. The elevator opens to the residence, and I nod to Agent Morrow. He probably wonders if we’re already drunk.

“It can’t be that bad,” I say as I lead Dana toward the kitchen.

“The kitchen?” Dana asks.

I shrug as I open the freezer. “Candace swears by ice cream. It’s her alternative to scotch.”

“I’ve heard.”

A few days ago, Candace complained that her pants felt tight. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Ice cream is her presidential addiction. Don’t misunderstand. Candace has always enjoyed a sundae, and there has never been a time when our freezer wasn’t stocked with a few pints of ice cream. Ice cream is something of a bond between her and Coop. The first time we visited him before the adoption was a thought; we took him with Spencer for ice cream. Since then, it’s become a meeting place for Candace and Coop.

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