Page 147 of Death is Familiar

“When?” There was one obvious option. “When you came for me?”

He swirled his calloused thumb over the back of my palm.

“When I was throwing up in the car?” And told him and Jack that I was motion sick.

Back to my knuckles.

“When you followed me to my parents’ house?”

Over the small of my wrist.

“The orange juice?”

Swirled it over the inside of my palm.

“That night at the gathering?”

Around again.

“When I ate licorice for breakfast? Because I’ll have you know, that is a perfectly acceptable and balanced meal.”

Again.

“Todd.” I tightened my hold on his palm. “How. Long. Have. You. Known?”

Sucking in a breath, he released my hand so he could sign better. “I had suspicions…”

“Todd.”

“Roses.”

“What?”

“The roses.”

The roses I’d been ‘awarded’ by the FBI for my work with the Almeidas over four months ago. “I didn’t even know then. You knew before me!”

“Suspected.”

“Suspected? Knew? Does it matter? The whole time I’ve been trying to hide it, I’ve lied to your face, until I could figure out—Oh my god, is that why I was tested?”

Todd’s brows knit together.

“The ‘drug’ test. Is that why I was tested?”

“The random drug test?”

“The one that ensured Rochan knew I was… this?” I gestured at my body.

“What?”

“You had no part in that?”

“Rochan knows?”

“What, like she didn’t tell you?”

“You’re sure she knows?”