So Izzy was left with nothing to do but pace, guilt crawling up from the deep recesses of her gut where it had been kept at bay, its unrelenting claws digging in. Sweat turned her palms slick as her stomach twisted, untwisted, twisted again. They’d got a confession. But at what cost?

There was a quiet sickness that came with the thought that Izzy had slipped into Lacey’s role, the manipulator, the puppet master pulling emotions like strings. Maybe it was the only way Izzy had been able to think of to get Lacey to talk like they’d needed her to. But justification was rarely difficult. What Izzy would have trouble with for a long time was not only the hurt that had slipped so easily into Mia’s eyes but also the resignation she’d worn only a minute later. As if she deserved the betrayal.

By the time they came to fetch her, Izzy had sunk to the ground, her forehead resting on the knees she’d pulled close to her chest. Her grease-heavy hair hung limp over her forehead, and she could see the paleness of her face, the shadows beneath her eyes, in the concern the nurse wore without any subtlety.

“You can see her, hon,” the woman said, the wrinkles on her forehead deep and rigid, her voice softening to almost a whisper.

Izzy stood on shaky legs, focusing on relief instead of the onslaught of self-loathing that had been battering not so gently at all her defenses.

She blamed the whiplash of it all for her lack of brain-to-mouth filter when she walked into the room. “I said not to do anything stupid, you jerk.”

Mia’s face was gray and drawn, her lips white at the edges. But still she laughed. “Sorry.”

“I had a vest,” Izzy said, the guilt tugging at her with those talons. “I had a vest on, you idiot.”

That brought color to Mia’s cheeks. “And I was supposed to know that how?”

“I was supposed to step in front of you,” Izzy said. It wasn’t a real answer. She didn’t actually have one. “If it came down to it.”

One corner of Mia’s lips pulled up. “Sorry to steal your thunder.”

Dropping into the chair, Izzy couldn’t help but stare at the bandage that peeked out through Mia’s gown.

“I’m sorry.” It was just a quiet apology, stripped bare of arguments and justification. It was what Izzy had to offer. “I’m so sorry.”

Mia’s lips twitched, an almost but not quite sad smile. “I’m not sure I can say I would have acted differently if the roles had been reversed.”

“Were you ridiculously pissed?” Izzy asked, trying to break the tension. She forced an easy grin, the one she wore often, the one that was now faked but still probably also appreciated.