Page 121 of Keller

His jaw is set, and his shoulders are squared. His hands hang at his sides, fingers slightly curled. Everything about him is off and stiff and wrong.

The space between us is physical. Solid. Like something I should move out of the way to touch him.

"Keller," I say tentatively, almost like a question. A plea.

He doesn't respond right away. His eyes move over my face and then lock on my eyes. I remember I have a towel on my head and quickly pull it off, letting my wet hair fall on my shoulders.

"Can you come in?"

I step aside and gesture for him. He doesn't answer with words, but crosses the threshold and stops in the middle of my living room. He turns to face me and stands there, hands in his pockets now, watching me close the door.

He is obviously here to say something, so I wait for him. The silence stretches. Ten seconds. Twenty.

"A federal inquiry into executive compliance conduct around the time of my father's murder has been approved." His voice is flat. Measured. "Your name is attached to the preliminary recommendation."

The words land like stones dropped into still water. I feel the ripples spread through my chest.

"Keller."

"Don't. I only came because I want to know why you did this to me."

I take a breath. My lungs are tight.

"This was assigned to me before I ever met you, before the gala. Even after I met you, I didn't realize it was connected to you." I keep my voice steady.

"It wasassignedto you? What wasassignedto you?" His face contorts in a way I've never seen on him, like the words are dripping out of him.

"It was a broad pattern review of Stone Intermodal operations. I was tasked with combing through your father's company and checking for any anomalies that might indicate some connection to your father's murder. I was specifically told to conduct the audit quietly."

He doesn't react.

"What the fuck, Quinn?"

I don't know what to say right away. I'm dizzy, so I lean against the doorframe to the hall and cross my arms.

"I know."

"You know. That's nice." He is seething, and nothing I say right now will fix this.

"You said you didn't know it was my father at first. When, exactly, did you come to realize you were fucking me and trying to gather information to indict my family?"

The question cuts me deep. My chest tightens.

"After that first night at your loft." I hold his gaze. "That morning at the office, when I was looking up Stone Intermodal, I came across an article with you and your brothers."

"Isn't that quaint? So you knew after that night, huh?"

Heat rises to my face. Not embarrassment. Something sharper.

"I tried to end it after that. You asked me to dinner, and I told you I couldn't. I tried to keep my distance."

"You did." He nods once. "Then I guess you changed your mind."

He's right. I never should have done this, I know that. I knew then, too, but I couldn't help myself.

"I thought I could separate it. I thought the investigation would stay focused on operational patterns, not the family. Not you."

"Operational patterns are my family, Quinn."