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“Have you already picked them?”

Heather looks pleased by the question. “Yes.”

“When are you bringing them here?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Who are they?”

Heather gives me a look.

Right. Nicely.

I take a breath. “Can you tell me who they are?”

“No.”

Apparently nicely isn’t fucking magic. “Are you watching them?”

“Of course.”

Somewhere, two men are going to work. Buying groceries. Sleeping in their own beds.

They have no idea Heather has already made room for them.

“What if we don’t get along?”

“I told you. I chose more carefully this time.”

“And if you chose wrong?”

Heather’s expression hardens. “I didn’t.”

I look down at my plate. That’s not confidence I want to test. Two more people are coming into this house. That could be good. Two more sets of hands. Two more people watching Heather. Two more chances for someone to notice something I miss.

Or one of them could throw a fucking jewelry box and get us all killed.

I need to be alive when the opportunity comes. I need to not be the ungrateful little shit if things go sideways.

I pick up my fork.

The eggs are cold now. I eat them anyway.

CHAPTER 9

Heather

Jamie is awake when I unlock his door, sitting at the vanity in his underwear with a brush halfway through his hair.

I cross the room and hold out my hand. “Give me that.”

Yesterday he would’ve argued about being perfectly capable of brushing his own hair. Today he puts the brush in my palm. Fast learner.

“Good boy.”

His mouth tightens, but he doesn’t tell me to fuck off.

I stand behind him and start at the ends even though he’s already worked out most of the tangles. He watches me in the mirror while I brush. He’s quieter this morning. Yesterday gave him a lot to think about.