I could tell myself I was going to see my biological father, a man with no more connection to me than DNA. But it was complete and utter bullshit. For twenty-two years of my life, I’d forgotten Todd Larsen. But I hadn’t forgotten him. My first dad.

I barely swung to the toilet before losing my dinner.

Well, I guess, as similes go, that one was about perfect.

I knelt on the floor, gasping and gagging.

“Olivia?”

“I’m fine.”

I gasped and gagged more quietly.

“My hearing is quite functional. Open the door.”

“I’m okay.”

“If you pass out from fever again—”

“I’m puking, Gabriel. It’s not a fever.” I struggled to my feet. “Allow me the dignity of cleaning up in private, okay? Go to the car. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

A long pause. I could still sense him there, looming.

“I really think you should open—”

“Gabriel!” I took a deep breath, gripped the edge of the sink, and stared at my reflection, my eye makeup smudged, giving me a hollow, haunted look. “I am fine,” I said slowly. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Pause. “All right. But I’m staying right here.”

I opened my mouth, then bit my tongue. “Okay.”

“There’s mouthwash under the sink.”

I shook my head and grabbed a washcloth.

—

I don’t chew gum. I suspect that’s my mother’s influence—she thought it was unladylike. But as I was leaving the office, my gaze fell on a pack of spearmint gum sitting on Lydia’s desk.

“Take it,” Gabriel said. “We can replace it later.”

“No, I—”

“It’ll help settle your stomach.” He shoved the package into my hand.

The flavor ran out before we left the city, so I spit the piece into a tissue and pulled out another. Chewed it. Spit it out. Took another. The whole way to the jail, I chewed gum, and it had nothing to do with settling my stomach. It was about giving my nerves something to latch on to.

By the time we reached the prison doors, I’d gone through the whole package. When I reached for another and found it empty, Gabriel didn’t say a word, but his look made me feel as if I’d stumbled over my own feet. Clumsy and lost, desperate for stability and comfort.

I stopped walking.

“You’re this close, Olivia.” I caught the faint sigh in his voice, and it cut through me.

“I’m going in. I just . . .” I looked up at him. “I’ll do this alone.”

“What?”

I straightened, crumpling the empty gum package and pitching it into the trash can.

“I’m going to see him alone,” I said. “If you want to come inside, okay. If you’d rather wait in the car, that’s fine, too.”

When I looked up, his face was impassive. Another five seconds went by before he said, “Why?”