Page 12 of Secrets

“Only one.”

A new sense of hope flashes bright in the corner of my soul. Or maybe it’s the light from the kitchen down the hall sparking to life. Either way, my pulse increases. “Which is?”

“The glass used to make the vial. It’s been treated with a special chemical that will allow the components to remain active for a certain amount of time. It’s not something you can simply buy at your local hardware store. It’s specially crafted.”

I slip on my shirt. “No chance there’s a shop that specializes in treated glass in South Carolina, is there?”

I doubt Alexi would make it that easy for me, but then again, he’s both brave and cocky, and likely as big of an idiot as I suspected.

“That’s the bad news. Agent James called me this morning to remind me that all results go directly to him. But I owed you that favor and wanted to at least give you that much.”

You’re fucking kidding me.

Moving out of the direct view of the kitchen, I punch the air repeatedly, squeezing the phone dangerously tight in my hand as I have my silent tantrum. My teeth clench tight, the temporary pain ricocheting across my jaw enough to make me momentarily forget about the thundering in my head.Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

“Agent?”

Darlene’s far-away voice prompts me to put the phone back to my ear.

“Yep.” Unable to mask my frustration, my voice comes out tight and high.

“I’m sorry.”

I run a weary hand down my face before grabbing my shirt and slipping it on. “No worries. I get it. Rules to follow and all that. Consider us square”

Being reminded that my life is confined by rules makes my stomach roll with the liquor from last night, bile threatening to sear my esophagus. After all this time, I thought I finally hadsomething. But just as the small flame of hope dwindles to nothing, Darlene clears her throat.

“Look.” She lowers her tone to a near whisper. “I will say there are two possible manufacturers in South Carolina, but only one in Noxus City.”

A new found excitement flushes through my veins.

Fuck, I’m going to be sick from this emotional rollercoaster.

I thank the analyst before hanging up and skipping to the kitchen where I find a still-half-naked Margie—or was it Meagan—at the coffee pot. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the junction of where her neck meets her shoulder.

She jumps, the empty foam cup in her hand falling to the marble counter with her soft laugh. “Oh. A good call, I presume?”

I nod. “As good as it can be. But I’m afraid I’ll have to take the joe to go.”

Margret—yes, it was definitely Margret—turns and smirks. “To go it is.”

* * *

Ninety percent of the time,I’m in a damn good mood.

If you ask the bureau’s therapist, he says I have a generally happy disposition, am frighteningly carefree, and have a keen ability to move on from any setbacks.

I’m not sure if it was a trait taught to me, or if I was simply blessed with the gene to not give a fuck, but I’ve always used it to my advantage. There have been more than a few occasions when my life hasn’t gone the way I planned, or decisions didn’t pan out the way I’d hoped. Still, I’ve been able to keep it moving and look for the silver lining, because why stare in the rearview when the windshield is what shows me where I’m going?

A nice statement in theory. But we all have to encounter a situation so jarring that not even the best of us can’t walk away unscathed.

For me, it was when my mom passed away.

After that, time seemed to stand still. Nothing and no one could shake my family from the cloud that hung over us twenty-four seven . They couldn’t make the seconds start ticking again or lift the grief and heartache that seemed to all but bury us in the ground with her.

We were incapable of breaking ourselves from the collective stagnant routine we fell into.

Wake, work, remember to eat and breathe, then do it all over again. I mean, seriously. Thank fuck my bills were on autopay because I couldn’t function. All I could do was grieve.

---