“Last night,” he said. “You. Beverly. What the hell was that?”

I took a sip of water.

“Oh boy, I’ve never seen someone so deep in denial.”

I clenched my fists, staring straight ahead.

“Avoiding the conversation isn’t going to make it go away.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You done?”

“Fine, fine. We can talk about other things.”

“Like?”

“Like…how your foster dad is probably looking at crime scene photos while eating a sandwich right now.”

I snorted. “Probably.”

Jamal stretched. “Man, I don’t know how you live with a cop.”

“He’s alright.”

“Now. But what about when you start committing crimes?”

I gave him a flat look.

He grinned. “Hypothetically, of course.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

Jamal hummed in agreement. Then, after a pause, “He still working those late shifts?”

“Yeah,” I replied, lying back on the bench and letting out a slow breath. “He had a double yesterday. Honestly, though, he’s a good guy. I respect him. A lot. He actually listens. Doesn’t try to push me into being anything I’m not, just lets me figure things out on my own. A lot of people wouldn’t be like that. Some would’ve given up on me by now. But he hasn’t. He’s the kind of man who shows up, does his job, and still somehow manages to give a damn about the people in his life. He’s a good man.”

Jamal was quiet for a while, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about his own family. “I’m glad he’s that guy for you. You deserve it,” he finally said. “What about your mom?”

“She’s… She’s been swamped with work lately,” I replied with a sigh. “I barely get to see her anymore. And when I do, she’s usually too tired to do much. It’s like all she does is work and sleep these days.”

There was a long pause, then Jamal spoke again, this time more carefully. “And…you hear from…you know.”

“No.” I flexed my fingers, rolling my wrists.

That’s what the gym was for. To not think about things like that. Not about my biological father, rotting in a cell. Not about my foster dad, working nights because crime never sleeps.

And definitely not about Beverly.

“McHayes.”

The sound of my last name snapped me out of my thoughts.

I turned to see Scott Reynolds standing near the squat rack, shaking his head as he approached. “Man, I haven’t seen you in forever. You still hiding in the library?”

I sat up, the corners of my mouth lifting just a little at the sight of him. “Something like that.”