Page 136 of The Night Shift

Friend? “Actually, I’m her —”

“He’s no one,” Holly cuts in, waving an arm as she takes a step towards him. “Sid, what are you doing here?”

I hate hearing his name on her lips as much as being reduced to “no one.”I’ve watched you sleep, love. Has he?

Sid nods towards her hand. “Why do you have a garrotte in your hand?”

“To be fair, it was in my hand first,” I jump in.

Holly doesn’t even spare me a glance. “We don’t see each other for a decade, andthat’syour first question?”

She sounds angry. But a different sort of angry. It’s not the light, fleeting irritation she offers me when I push her buttons. This is more…substantial. More real. Deep-rooted into something that mattered then and still matters now. She’s behaving like this man is actually worth being angry over. It affects me more than I’d care to admit.

“I manage property maintenance for the apartments down the block,” he begins, not taking his eyes off Holly even for a second. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. Makes me want to snatch the garrotte from her hand and finish the job myself.

“One of the tenants called about a broken heater in one of the units and I figured I’d check it out before heading home. Then I heard a loud crash coming from this building, thought it could be a related issue — maybe some pipe or electrical damage. Didn’t want to ignore it. So, I decided to have a look.”

There’s something grossly off about him. He looks far too calm for someone who just had a potential murder weapon pressed to his windpipe.

“Once I figured out there was no pipe damage, I thought maybe someone broke in.”Sidscratches the back of his neck and glances at me. “Again. I’m really sorry about that.”

“For giving my lip a minor paper cut? It’s all good.” I run my thumb over my lip where it still stings.

He turns to Holly. “Look, regardless of our current circumstances, I have been meaning to reach out to you.”

“Why?” Holly asks.

A pause. “Mom and I,we heard about Nate being released.”

The initial frown on her face dissipates almost instantly. Her features soften as her eyes flicker with something I can’t quite place. “Oh.” Her voice is much quieter now. “How is she? Your mom.”

“She’s all right. Doing better these days.”

Holly swallows. She looks at the ground, fidgeting with her fingers — one of her many tells I’ve catalogued and memorized. She’s uncomfortable.

Very well. Whatever just passed between them, I don’t like it, and I don’t want it lingering.

“It’s getting late,” I say to her. “We should start heading back.” I look to her for confirmation. She nods. No argument, no pushback.

Sid pulls out his phone, typing quickly. Two seconds later, Holly’s phone buzzes. Then mine.

“Just in case you deleted my number.” He gives her a smile. “Let’s catch up soon? And if you ever need to talk —”

“Yeah, you too.” She forces back a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s fake as hell. She’s trying her best to remain composed and succeeding too — enough to fool those inferior in intellect. But not me. Never me. I notice everything. Hermeasured breath, the faint tension in her jaw, the way her hands remain stiff at her sides when she’d normally fold them across her chest. Every detail stands out to me because, frankly, I’ve trained myself to notice.

Sid lingers for a moment, before offering her a polite nod. Then he turns and walks back to his own car.

I watch him drive away. Once he’s out of sight, Holly moves toward my car without a word. I unlock it, but she stops short, hesitating. Of course. What was I thinking?

I move to open the door for her, but she leans back against it instead, tipping her head back, face in her hands as she exhales toward the sky. The cold air turns her breath to mist.

“All good?” I ask, nudging her foot with mine.

No response.

“Love?”

Her eyes finally meet mine.