Page 113 of Override

I don't answer. Which is answer enough.

Then he leans back in his chair. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

I stare at my laptop. At the lines of code. At the financial reports. At literally anything except him.

Unfortunately, he's Matt. Which means he waits. Eventually I cave.

"She's lonely." The words sound ridiculous out loud. Matt doesn't laugh. Doesn't push. Just waits. Again. I hate when he does that. "She doesn't really have anyone." Still nothing. "She's trapped in that house."

Matt nods slowly. "Okay."

I rub a hand over my face. "It's weird."

"What is?"

I immediately regret opening my mouth. All of it. Every bit. Because now I have to explain something I don't understand myself.

"I don't know." The answer comes out frustrated. Honest. "I just..." I stop. Start again. "I keep wanting to make sure she's okay."

Matt's expression doesn't change. Which somehow makes talking worse.

"I know that sounds insane."

"It doesn't."

"It should." I glance out the windshield. "She smiles and I feel better."

The confession hangs in the van. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Mortifying.

"I make her coffee." Matt's eyebrow lifts. I point at him. "Don't."

His mouth twitches. Traitor.

"I make sure she gets time alone.” Still waiting. Still listening. "I just..."

The words come slower now. Harder. Because they're real. "I need to know she's safe."

Matt studies me for several long seconds. Then says quietly, "You care about her."

I immediately shake my head. "No." The answer comes too fast. Too automatic. Matt notices. Of course he does. "Keaton."

"No." I laugh once. Short. Disbelieving. "That can't be what this is."

"Why not?"

"Because—" The word just stops. Refuses to finish itself. The answer should be obvious. Instead it gets tangled somewhere in my chest.

Matt waits. Again. I hate him.

"I saw what happened when you met Rachel." The words leave before I can stop them. "You loved her." Matt's expression softens. Like he already knows where this is going. Which makes me want to jump out of the van. "That's different."

"Why?"

Because it is. Because— "I don't love her." The answer comes instantly. Certain. "I just..." I stop. Then try again. "I have this feeling." Matt doesn't interrupt. Doesn't rescue me. Just lets me keep digging my own grave. "I need to know she's happy." The words sound stupid. "I need to know she's safe." Worse. "I need to know she's taken care of."

The silence afterward feels endless. Matt stares at me. I stare back. Then his expression does something alarming.

He looks amused. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."