Page 6 of Falcon’s Forever

"Maybe."

She nods but doesn't push, which throws me more than if she had. The old Cara would've had ten questions lined up before I finished answering the first. I miss that, and then I feel like an asshole for missing a version of her she didn't choose to lose.

"I heard Church is at noon," she says.

"Yeah."

"You're going?"

The question shouldn't needle me, but it does. "I'm the VP."

"I know."

"Then you already know the answer."

"I know what the answer should be."

That shuts me up faster than anything Zip or Sterling managed all morning. Behind us someone laughs at the bar, a chair scrapes the floor, and the clubhouse keeps moving around us while Cara and I stand in the middle of it having a conversation that feels more dangerous than anything in Sterling's folder.

"You've been disappearing," she says, I barely hear her.

"I'm handling club business."

"Zip says you've been disappearing."

I glance toward the bar. He's suddenly fascinated with his coffee.

"Don't blame him," Cara says. "I asked."

"Why?"

Her eyes come back to mine. "Because I remember you."

Something in my chest goes tight. "That was a long time ago."

"Not as long as you think." She takes a breath before she says the rest. "Back then, when you were hurting, you rode."

"I ride all the time."

"You rode differently." I feel her eyes penetrating my soul.

I don't have an answer for that, because she's right and we both know it. "I don't need you worrying about me."

"I know." It comes so fast it takes the fight straight out of mine. She isn't arguing, and isn't claiming responsibility for me. She's just standing there, waiting.

"I don't need to fix you either," she adds.

That one lands deeper than the first. "Good."

"But I need to know the man keeping those women safe is actually here."

Not Falcon the man she used to love. Falcon the VP. She knows exactly where to put the knife, and I respect it more than it should let me.

"I'll be at Church."

Her shoulders come down half an inch. "Good."

I should leave it there. I don't. "Sarah really slept six hours?"