Page 94 of Beyond Protection
Ma and Claire exchanged a look.
"Just being thorough," I said.
"Right." Mac's smile was bright and empty. "Thorough."
He left. Footsteps heavy on the stairs. A door closing upstairs.
Ma looked at me. "You two having one of those silent-movie mornings?"
"Just tired."
"Hmm." She rinsed a plate. "Tired's one word for it."
Claire stood. Paused by my shoulder. "Distance doesn't always equal safety. Sometimes it only equals distance."
Then she was gone.
Ma turned back to the sink. "Coffee's still hot if you need more. And Mac's room is the second door on the right, in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't."
"Well, now you know anyway."
I made it to the second-floor hallway before I heard Mac's voice through the door. On the phone. The agent, probably.
"—told you, I'm not doing press until next season."
Pause.
"I don't care about optics—"
His voice cracked on the last word.
I raised my hand, and it hovered six inches from the door.
Then dropped.
I turned. Made it three steps.
The door opened.
"If you're going to lurk in the hallway, you could at least commit to it."
It was Mac's voice. Flat. Exhausted.
I turned back.
He stood in the doorway, phone in hand, gripping the frame like it was holding him up.
"I wasn't lurking."
"Right. Standing outside my door for three minutes. Very professional."
It would have made the most sense to turn back and go downstairs. Do my actual job.
I stepped through the door into the guest room instead.
The room smelled like him—cedar from Ma's closet, soap, and underneath that, the scent of his skin I'd memorized against every tactical instinct.
