Page 54 of Reasons We Break

Her mother’s smile widens. “Well, I’ll get a ride with Rupi, then. See you at home.”

Simran blinks. No tearing her away to leave? No meaningful look? Her mother is going out of her way to get a ride with someone else—someonenosy, who might question her on her absence—just so Simran can...what, hang out with Jassa?

Simran’s mother bids goodbye to Jassa before retreating. Simran watches her go, confused. Jassa says, “Your mom’s really nice.”

Simran wants to laugh. “Toyou.”

“And you.” At Simran’s skeptical look, he adds, “A few months back, I overheard her telling some other aunties about you. Apparently when you were little, you used to space out a lot, and she could tell because you’d chew your lip and ignore people talking to you.”

Embarrassing. “How is this an example of her niceness, again?”

“She said she always tried to make you stop, but looking back, you were probably just thinking about something. She said you were brilliant even then.”

Simran stares. “She...said that?” She almost can’t imagine.

“Typicalnice behind your backparenting, isn’t it? My mom’s the same.” He clicks his pen. “She’s right, you know.”

“About what?”

“You’re brilliant.” He says it casually, but Simran’s face heats. She ducks her head back down at the napkins. If she’s sobrilliant, why can’t she crack this cipher?

Jassa’s not done. “Also, you still do it. Chew your lip, I mean.” She stops chewing her lip immediately, and Jassa smiles. Now Simran’s certain her face has burst into flames.

She can’t look at him, so she bends over her napkin and adds, impulsively, “There’s more to the message, by the way.” She scribbles the date and message that were on the slip. It’s a long shot, but maybe itispart of the code.

When she’s done, Jassa says, “Are we sure your cousin’s not messing with you?” He pauses. “Or that you’re not messing withmeas revenge for leaving you hanging?”

“I promise it’s real.” Now that she’s transcribed the message—PACK MY BAG WITH FIVE RAISIN STRUDELS TODAY—something about it niggles her. Written in all caps, letters evenly spaced out...something. She can’t figure it out.

“Maybe it’s an anagram?” Jassa suggests. Now that’s an idea.

But it doesn’t come to anything. Simran barely notices as people drift away, their plates get picked up, and an auntie brings them refills of chah. The sunlight from the window has slid halfway across the room by the time Jassa drops his pen. “As much as I wish I could keep at this, I have to go.”

“Sorry.” Simran sits up and sighs. They’re surrounded by crumpled napkins. “My cousin outdid herself this time.”

“Don’t be sorry. This was fun. But god, I have a headache.” Jassa stands and stretches, and then, eyes landing back on her, grins. “You really know how to put a guy through the wringer, Simran.”

And he’s gone, strolling out of the langar hall, before Simran can figure out whether he’s flirting with her.

CLANK.

Sweat drips into Rajan’s eyes as he hammers a particularly stubborn nail into place. Today, the roofing crew is working on a house, and while the other guys are having a smoke break in the backyard below, he remains on the roof, only half listening to them complain about their allegedly bitchy wives and annoying kids. The other half is thinking abouther.

Clank.

The image of Simran at the table, surrounded by Lions.

Clank.

It’s amazing, really, how he somehow sucked her into this mess without trying. It just happened because he wasthere. He raises his hammer higher.

Clank. Clank. Cl—

Pain lances through his left shoulder. He drops the hammer, cursing, and it topples down the side of the roof before coming to a stop in the gutter. He lets his arm dangle until the pain ebbs to a dull throb. Fantastic. The foreman yells from below towatch it with the hammer, while Trevor adds a cheeryYou got this, brother!

Rajan curses them both inwardly as he retrieves the hammer. This job seriously sucks. His coworkers are on the LS payroll, the foreman’s a dick, and his shoulder’s about had it with roofing. Too bad he doesn’t have the qualifications or temperament for anything else.

Your shoulder wouldn’t bother you if you had a line of coke,some voice in the back of his head singsongs. Nothingwould bother you.