Page 64 of Code Name: Harbor

I don’t stop her and she gets to the door before I do, pushing through and stepping into the chilly evening air.

The alley stinks from a restaurant dumpster two doors down.

Connie whips to face me, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t talk to me like a child, Finn.”

“Well, you’re acting like a fucking child so exactly how am I supposed to talk to you?” I snap.

“I’m acting like the only person in the room who hasn’t lost their mind.”

I take in a breath, trying to calm my pulse. I lower the temperature of my tone. “You can’t do that, Connie. Not in front of a hundred of my clients. Not in front of Josie. Not ever.”

“Why not? I’m a member of this team, aren’t I?”

I ignore her question. “You can’t do it because I’m asking you not to.”

“Asking? Or telling?”

I sigh with frustration. “Both. Take it however you need to take it.”

Connie laughs, but it’s not genuine. It’s sharp and bitter. “You used to know better than to bring outsiders into our world.”

“She’s not an outsider.” Not to me. Not ever.

“She works for the people who hunt people like us.”

“She doesn’t know what we do and she doesn’t want to know,” I find myself defending Josie.

“She’s the woman Mikhail is hunting and when he finds out she’s by your side, we’re all dead. And tonight you walked her into our place, let her stand cozied up to you, and I’m telling you she should not be there.”

“That’s not your call.”

“Then what is, Finn? I’ve been with you since we were just kids. I should be the one at your side.”

And there it is. The real reason we’re standing here. Oh, I’m sure she’s worried about prison and Mikhail, but when it boils down to it, she’s jealous.

“Connie, this isn’t fair to me.”

“Say it, Finn,” she says, tears brightening her eyes. “You owe me that much.”

“I don’t know what you want me to—”

One tear slips out. “Yes, you do.”

We look at each other for a long beat in the cold alley.

I do owe her this much.

I owe her this much because she’s been pining for me for almost two decades and I’ve spent all that time choosing not to put my feelings on the matter into actual words. I did it on the theory that not putting it into words was its own form of kindness.

But clearly that wasn’t the way to handle it, so I choose to be blunt. “I don’t feel that way about you,” I say with a sigh.

“I know that.” Her voice is strangled, beyond hurt.

“I never have.”

“I know that too.”

“You’re family, Connie. You’re crew. You’re one of the two people in the world I trust without thinking about it. That’s what you are to me. That’s what you’ve always been to me.”