Page 39 of Inextricably Tied

“I don’t think the family of a missing girl is doing much besides grieving and looking for her.” The words are sharper than Agony expected. Still, Flint’s eyes cling to the front of the house. “Harbinger will be fine.”

“Almost convincing.” Agony slips arms behind his head, tapping his toes. He considers not saying anything else, but Flint’s fingers worry against the leather keychain. It’s going to be a long hour. “I was kidding. Bad joke. She’ll be fine.”

“Can we not?” Even with the extra sleep Harbinger’s given Flint, he’s tired. Grumpy at the best of times, from Agony’s estimation, and healing took more out of him.

Perfect time for an escape.

But Agony doesn’t make an attempt…for some reason. He’s tired from the drive. Wants to annoy Flint. Too many variables. Flint’s thermos steams with coffee, wisps rising and disappearing like spirits.

“How much do you know about her?” Agony murmurs.

“This shit again?” Flint rolls his neck to crack some of the tension. “More than you.”

Agony hums as irritatingly as he can. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Try as he does to hide it, Flint’s fists clench. “And why is that?”

“We’ve had some late-night conversations. Harbinger’s a big girl.” Agony’s tongue rolls lecherously over the words. “Trust me.”

Now Flint’s claws curl completely around the steering wheel, digging into his palms. Agony’s sure he’s going to lose it, but instead, Flint growls. “I know plenty.”

Such conviction. Agony almost believes him, but Flint’s eyes flick out the window, warring with that uncertainty.

Got him.

“Your wings are puffing out again.”

“We’ve been partners for seven years. You get to know each other pretty well in that time.”

“I’m sure you talk.” Agony emphasizes the word. “But how much do you really know? Past the surface-level, the shop talk, the late-night storytelling. Where does she come from? What happened before she met you? What does she know about you?”

“We’ve talked about our pasts.” But there’s that tic in Flint’s jaw again. The one that appears when Agony gets close to something he shouldn’t, a cat pawing a vase. “We know what’s important. We know enough.”

“How does she feel about her connection to me?”

“We haven’t had a moment alone since —”

“How does she feel about your connection?”

“She…” But the sentence dies in Flint’s mouth. His voice is as soft as Agony’s ever heard when it finally comes. “It’s overwhelming. Painful. I can’t imagine she enjoys it.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Do I need to?”

“I’m noticing a trend with you, Jasper.” Flint’s eyes dart to the rearview. Agony shrugs. “I checked your ID.”

“Do not —”

“Everything you do is to protect Harbinger. To keep her safe. To keep her happy.” He lists them off on his fingers. “You take the late-night shifts. You keep her away from me. You strangle every little feeling you have that might distract either of you.”

Flint doesn’t argue. Of course he doesn’t; it’s a point of pride for him. “It’s my job.”

“Oh, come on: it’s not your job to bury every emotion that might complicate things. Even if it was, that’s not why you’re doing it. I may have been born last week, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Flint’s shoulders tighten. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand you’re scared you’ll break her. You wrap her in safety nets, keep everything at a distance — including you.” What started as an easy way to push Flint’s buttons has spiraled into something else. Something that tugs on Agony’s mouth to speak, his words getting ahead of him, heavier than all the carefree ease he’s used to. “Harbinger’s not the only one handling things with kid gloves.”