Izzy hadn’t moved since asking it, had barely breathed, and was watching her with a kind of reluctance Mia was getting used to. She made Izzy nervous. And maybe the woman wasn’t all that far off with her worry.

“I don’t know if he does,” she finally said, because it was easier than all of that complicated mess of emotions. She’d promised Izzy the truth, but she hadn’t promised Izzy all her secrets. And the truth was, she didn’t know.

Maybe Mia would have gotten away with it a few days ago. But Izzy was starting to be able to read her, which was scary in itself. Her expression didn’t relax; instead, everything sharpened.

“You’re going to be late,” Mia cut her off. There was nothing to be gained from hashing it all out. “Quinn won’t risk it if you wait any longer.”

Izzy’s gaze shifted to the window beyond Mia and then back to her face, mutinous and resigned at the same time. She wanted to argue, drag it all out, all the complications that Mia could barely put into thoughts, let alone words.

“All right,” Izzy finally said, slinging her duffel over her shoulder. She paused in the middle of the room, then crossed to Mia in three long strides. In the next moment Mia was dragged into an awkward hug, with Izzy patting the back of her head. They didn’t do this; it wasn’t them. But Mia laughed lightly and tolerated the embrace for the few seconds it lasted.

Clearing her throat, Izzy pulled back. “Just watch out for him. He’ll distract you with the Dark and Handsome, and you’ll forget about the Angry.”

“Never,” Mia said. “Be safe. Let me know when you get in.”

Izzy tossed her an easy two-finger salute and then headed for the door. She’d insisted she didn’t need Mia to walk her to the port, so Mia watched her go until her pink hair disappeared around a corner down the way.

“She’s gone?” Edie asked, her voice coming from just inside the doorway to the hall.

Mia didn’t bother turning around but simply stared at the place where Izzy had been. “Yes.”

Edie wrapped an arm around Mia’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the bone. “Good.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY

IZZY

The Rockport Police Station was small and crumbling, just a squat, long building on the corner of a block that was dominated by warehouses and three thriving minimarts.

Izzy swung through the door and breathed in the familiar air with relief. It might as well have been years that she’d been on St. Lucy’s instead of just a few days.

She greeted the uniform manning the lobby desk. He was a cute kid, with acne scattered along his hair- and jawlines. He went bright red from the attention but waved back.