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I put the phone face down on the cushion.

Mack falls asleep in the chair.

I sit upright beside him and move the cushion when I have to.

Toward morning he wakes and goes to bed.

I leave before he can notice I never did.

The car comes.

The driver gets out and opens the door for me.

Normally I’d tell him I’ve got it.

This morning, I let him.

Chapter six

Astrid

Colt arrives early with the exercise sheet folded into quarters and Friday’s winning sequence frozen on my monitor.

He stops inside the door.

“Starting without me, Doc?”

“I was trying to determine whether you cheated.”

His eyes move to the screen. Roman is still buried under three bodies at the glass while Colt is half turned toward Mack.

“Which draw?”

“The last one.”

“Then yes. Legally.”

He puts the exercise sheet beside my keyboard.

Every box is filled.

There is a hard crease through Tuesday where he kept it in a pocket, and BED is written in pencil beside Monday. Every repetition recorded. Every set done.

I have handed that sheet to professional athletes and I can count on one hand the men who brought it back honest. They do the work they enjoy and estimate the rest, and then they sit in front of me and wonder why the numbers will not move.

He did all of it, in a hotel, in a friend’s house, on the days he hurt.

“You can call Maren,” he says. “I’ve got witnesses.”

“To all of these?”

“Most. She’s got other patients. I’m trying to accept it.”

“Sit.”

He pulls the second chair beside mine. “Medical or tactical?”

“Both, if you can remain quiet long enough.”