Page 65 of Reasons We Break

But even when they’re left alone on the top floor, Simran still says nothing to him. Minutes pass. Eventually, Rajan can’t take it anymore. “Should we talk about yesterday?”

Simran’s scouring the place with her eyes. “We should look for darts.”

So that’s how she’s gonna play it. She’ll ignore his vices if he ignores hers.

But hecan’tignore hers. He grits his teeth, knowing he’s about to open himself up to this. “You have to keep boundaries around this bookkeeping thing. If they think you’re open to getting called whenever...”

“I know. I just needed to take my mind off things.” Her fingers twitch. “My mom had surgery yesterday.”

Oh. He watches her carefully. “And?”

“It went fine.” She strides off in the direction of the computers. After a moment, he follows. She can’t possibly think he bought that.

He backs off, though, and they comb through the top floor in silence—first around the computers, then between rows of books. It’s easy. All he has to do is picture a shootout, where the last stand might’ve taken place, and the bullets are right where he imagines.

“You’re good at this,” Simran comments after they’ve filled half their basket.

He bends to pluck a dart from where it’s suctioned to the bottom of a bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m your guy if you want to strategize a gunfight or finesse all the coke off its paper. Not much else.”

“That’s not true.”

He drops the dart into the basket. “You saw me last night. You know it is.” He can’t help how bitter he sounds.

“What I saw last night was my friend making a mistake. Like we all do. It doesn’t mean he can’t come back from it.”

He pauses to peek at her. She sounded so angry last night, yet now her expression is soft. Damn it. Why can’t she just be disgusted like everyone else? Then he could lean into his little relapse knowing he’d already disappointed her, and there was nothing to lose.

After a moment, he heads into the next aisle. “Your friend sounds like a fucking loser. Who is this dude?”

He hears her amused little huff and grins to himself, feeling lighter.

They search several more aisles without luck. At some point, Simran stops searching to pull a book off the shelf. Rajan throws a dart at her back. “Focus on the task, Simran Auntie.”

She brushes the dart off. “I’mnot the one doing mandatory community service hours.”

“Smartass,” he says, delighted she’s joking with him again. “Can’t believe you’re abandoning me for some book about”—he ducks to read the cover, but she returns it to the shelf—“nerdy shit.”

She picks up another. “Maybe reading some ‘nerdy shit’ now and then would do you some good.”

Swear words are so funny coming from her mouth. “Why don’t you read ittome, Sahiba,” he suggests, leaning his good shoulder against the bookcase. “In your sexy, monotone voice.”

Simran rolls her eyes and throws the book at his chest. He catches it with a grin, then reshelves it. As Simran moves on, he pauses at the other book she had so quickly shelved when he came by. “Why are you interested in—Mathematics in Cryptography?”

“School.”

Rajan might’ve accepted this normally, but there’s something about her perfectly neutral tone that has him opening the book up. Hellno.

“Code breaking?” Suddenly, he knowsexactlywhat this is about. “Don’t tell me you’re stuck on that note in the Aces’ ledger. That was weeks ago.”

Her eyes dart away. “I still haven’t figured it out.”

“Andnobodyis asking you to.” He almost face-palms. This is so typical of her. “Leave it alone or they’ll—”

He stops because of footsteps behind him. Simran’s eyes flick over his shoulder and widen. When Rajan turns, there’s a brown guy their age approaching. Bright eyes, scruffy jaw, one of those modern-style turbans, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Rajan dismissively turns back to Simran, but then she says, “Hi, Jassa,” in the most fake peppy voice he’s ever heard.

And the guy responds, “Hey, Simran.”

Wait.Wait. Rajan unwillingly glances back. Jassa is looking only at Simran.