Page 68 of Reasons We Break

It’s not Yash. Rajan stares. This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.

The message is from that hard-ass social worker at Kat’s office. It has an attachment, and it reads:I will have to send this to your PO. I am giving you a heads-up as a courtesy. I recommend that you attend that appointment, as another breach will not do you any favours.

Rajan clicks on the attachment. It’s a photo—of himself. Blurry, but unmistakably his black hoodie, unmistakably him at Manny Khullar’s mansion last night, unmistakably with a white line in front of him that even now, he has trouble tearing his eyes away from. The angle is from a corner of the room. Rajan doesn’t even remember this moment or who would’ve been there to witness it.

But he knows that it happened. And now Kat will, too.

WHEN RAJAN’S NAMEgets called by Kat’s secretary at his next appointment, he considers walking out.

He’s been in the waiting room debating the merits of doing so for the past five minutes. But as the social worker said, if he misses a check-in, that’s yet another breach. They could put out an arrest warrant. And wouldn’t Officer Dipshit love the excuse to track him down?

Was it worth it?some voice in his head taunts as he heads to Kat’s office.Did it solve your problems? No. Your shoulder still hurts, your mom’s still dead, Simran’s still with the Lions, and Sukha’s still headed the same way. You actually made your life worse. Congrats! We all know it won’t stop you from doing it again.

Man, his subconscious is a real asshole.

The real question, of course, is who ratted him out. Nick? But that doesn’t make sense anymore. Nick got what he wanted through Simran. So, maybe someone else at the party. If what Zohra said was true, and the Lions have stopped trusting him, it could’ve been anyone.

When Rajan enters Kat’s office, she’s busy at her filing cabinet, wearing yet another Ms. Frizzle–like dress. A familiar sight now. He’s been here several times since that day with the broken frame, and she goes off-script often to ask him about his life. His past. His family. Sometimes he answers; sometimes he tells her to back off. He suspects he’s become her test case for counseling strategies, because she knows he’s safe.

He hadn’t realized until right now, listening to her hum, that he took pride in that. In beingtrustworthy.

She turns and beams. “Rajan! Come in.”

He sinks into his chair. That doesn’t sound like the voice of someone who’s sending him back to court. Right?

Kat sits down with his file. Immediately, he notices a red sticky note poking out.

She flips through the first few documents, occasionally commenting (“Glad you enjoyed the library,” “Simran speaks highly of you in her reviews,” “Have you thought about continuing volunteering after probation’s finished? I think it’d be good for you.”). He only half pays attention. She’ll get to the (literal) red flag soon enough.

He puts his feet up on her table, since this’ll probably be his last opportunity. The photo frame is still noticeably absent. “What happened to your photo?” The more he talks, the longer he can delay the inevitable.

Kat glances at the empty stretch of desk. “I haven’t gotten a new frame yet.” She flips through his file some more. She’s about to reach it. His sense of dread climbs. “Who is it in the photo, anyway?” he asks, andthatmakes her fingers pause, a few pages away from the red sticky.

“My son.”

She starts flipping again. Shit, shit, shit—“Is he batshit like you?”

Luckily, his blatant attempts at distraction make her pause again. “I wouldn’t know.” She glances at the wall calendar. “He died nearly eight years ago.”

Oh. He starts feeling actual curiosity. Screw it, no one’s ever accused Rajan of being tactful. “How?”

“Shot dead.” When he stares, her smile becomes a little sad. “That’s why I do what I do.”

And before he can ask more, she flips to the last page.

The red flag is taped to it, and Kat’s smile falters. This is it. Rajan’s lack of control is coolly laid out on that page for anyone to see. Humiliated, he stares at the desk, gritting his teeth, waiting, waiting—

Kat flips the page. “Have you thought about going back to school?”

Wait, what? Hesitantly, he looks up. Her expression remains neutral. Was he imagining things?

Maybe that red sticky was always there. Some older page he didn’t notice until now. Maybe the social worker hasn’t had a chance to send the photo yet, or Kat didn’t see the email.

Rajan relaxes slightly. Topic changes are good, even if they’re fucking annoying topics. “I don’t like textbooks.”

“Education doesn’t have to mean classrooms or textbooks. You should give yourself a chance to explore something you might enjoy doing.”

“What if I enjoy roofing?” When she gives him a pointed look, he shrugs. “Who cares if I like my job? It’s just a job.” Kat smiles a bit. “What?”