It was January. My shift at the print shop was over, but I couldn’t seem to pry my lazy butt off the stool. I hooked my oversized boots around the metal legs and pouted.

Gibson saw me over his computer screen and said, “Go home, Beth.”

The print shop had been really busy that day. The new semester was starting in two days, so we’d been flocked by newcomers, not to mention the regular riffraff. The rush had ended and evening had come. The shop didn’t close for another couple of hours, but my shift was over and for the moment, it was empty.

My boss, Gibson, was a cozy guy who was old enough to have finished his Ph.D., but instead, he was tidying up his masters at a leisurely pace. He was one of those people who loved university life and was in no hurry to leave it. He was also a person who could not possibly have been Christian in disguise. His lack of height disqualified him.

“I don’t want to go home,” I whined.

He wiped his glasses on the underside of his T-shirt. “Why not?”

“Felicity-Ann will be nesting in my apartment.”

“Nesting?” he asked curiously.

“You know. What girl chickens do, as to equal what male roosters do—roosting.”

Gibson gave me a funny look.

“She'll be talking to Trinity about the wedding and I’d rather put a hole in my head than go back there.”

“Ah,” he said.

I had already explained the whole New Year’s Eve fiasco to him while the printing machines hummed away.

I let my head loll back. “You’re judging me, Gibson. Stop it.”

“Yes, I’m judging you,” he said flatly, as he began typing on the computer.

Gibson was not my friend, even though we talked a lot. He thought I was a spoiled brat. I was and I couldn’t hide it. When he was interviewing me for the job, he told me how much I would be getting paid and I laughed. It seemed like such a paltry amount, but I sucked in my breath and apologized quickly. Even if I was used to bigger bucks, I needed a job. Behind my back, I knew he called me ‘The Rich Witch.’ Instead of being insulted, I was rather pleased. He could have been much more insulting and besides, everything he accused me of was true. We’d be talking and I’d drop something into the conversation like, “When I was in Cairo, I…” And he’d roll his eyes.

He only had a speckle of sympathy for me because I was an orphan and I had been abandoned by Christian, who I missed very much. I wasn't sure which thing made him tolerate me.

“I don’t see why you want to avoid Feline so badly,” he said, using one of her nick-names. She was that famous. “She’s not as evil as you make her out to be. She’s been in here a few times and I gotta say, she has better manners than you.”

“That’s because you’re a man and she knows if she leans over a little and gives you a little smile, it’ll be far more pleasant for everyone,” I countered.

He pulled his shaggy eyebrows together angrily. “She’s not a slut.”

“I didn’t say she was a slut. I implied she was flirty.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Not with me,” he amended quickly. “She was intelligent and well-spoken. You’re jealous. The guys look at her instead of you.”

“Is that a crime? She’s blonde and—”

“So dye your hair.”

I could never explain it to him. Though I did find her annoying before the New Year's Eve party, the fact that Rogan/Christian had gone to her instead of me killed all the love I had for her.

Gibson seemed to realize he had struck a nerve with me and continued gentler, “If she’s so awful then why does your girl, Trinity, hang out with her?”

Gibson thought the universe of Trinity. The campus food bank and the print center were on the same floor. It wasn’t difficult to see why he had a good opinion of her. She beguiled everyone except her parents into loving her with her frankness and her open heart. I could never be like her.

I took a deep breath. “She says that what happened on New Year’s Eve wasn’t Felicity-Ann’s fault. It wasn’t like she deliberately tried to sabotage me, so Trinity won’t tolerate me being mad at her.”

“Take lessons from her,” he advised darkly. “Now, I told you to go home, so go.”

“I don’t want to!” I whined.

I looked at him. He was about three seconds from having the man equivalent of a hissy fit.

“Fine,” I said, hopping off the stool. “I’ll go, but if blood gets splattered, it’s on your head.”

“You’d better not hurt her,” he cautioned with a pointed finger. “It's not her fault that guy preferred her.”

I put my coat on and as I was buttoning it up, I bawled, “Why do you care if I get along with her or not?” I had hardly finished my sentence when I realized what was going on. Gibson had a teensy crush on Felicity-Ann. She was completely out of his league, so he never mentioned it to anyone, but obviously, he did. That was why he called her Feline and defended her so hotly when I said bad things about her.

“I just don’t like you being mean to her. She didn’t do anything wrong. You said so yourself.”

I nodded meekly, wound my brown scarf around my neck and headed out. So, Gibson was suffering from a hopeless, one-sided, love… just like me. That was what won me his meager sympathy.

***

Three months later.

“Go home, Beth,” Gibson said unemotionally.

I twirled around in an office chair and stalled going home.

It was the end of March and everything was exactly the same as it had been at the beginning of January. In three months, nothing had changed. I had not seen nor heard from Christian. No one had seen Rogan. Felicity-Ann, who basically haunted my apartment, said she thought he had transferred schools. Trinity was not married yet. Her wedding was scheduled for the middle of May. I almost wished it was over, just to get Felicity-Ann out of my life. Aside from Rogan, she did not have a steady love interest, and so she was more available than ever to help Trinity plan the wedding. Trinity didn’t even need me. I wasn’t even a bridesmaid. Not that I especially wanted to be a bridesmaid. She wasn't having bridesmaids. She said she didn’t want to pay for the dress and the hairdo and whatever else, so they weren’t having any of that. I rolled my eyes and wondered what Trinity’s mother would think if she knew about all the tradition-breaking details of her daughter’s wedding.

Gibson was turning into my only friend, except he was glaring at me.

“What?” I grumbled as I stopped spinning.

“I heard a rumor,” he said.

“Tell me! I love rumors.”

He was hesitant. “I heard that Felicity is looking for a place to live closer to campus.”

I batted my eyelashes at him in a mock expression of disbelief. “Doesn’t her mommy practically live on campus as it is? How much closer has she got to get? Isn’t she almost finished her degree by now anyway?”

“Never mind. You’re so catty.”

“I am not generally catty! I just don’t like her. Why are you mentioning this to me like it’s any of my business?”

At least he had the decency to look slightly awkward as he dropped his bomb. “I thought that you might let her room with you since Trinity is leaving in a month.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “In case you didn’t realize this, Trinity and I live in a studio apartment. We sleep in enclosed beds, so they’re almost like separate bedrooms, but not quite. If Felicity-Ann took Trinity’s place that would mean that I would not even be able to go into my own bedroom and shut the door. She would be in my face constantly. I would suffocate from…”

“Jealousy?” he supplied.

“Whatever. I don’t want to live with her.”

“Do you have any other prospects?”

“You know I don’t. Not unless you want to come live with me.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d suffocate from…” he paused to let me supply his fault.

I stayed silent and didn’t supply anything for him. I didn’t want to live with Gibson either, even if he was becoming my only friend. I’d die from his dry humor that didn’t taste one bit like Christian’s. I didn’t know what he’d die from.

He didn’t finish his sentence when I left him hanging and went on. “I just thought I should warn you that she might ask you herself.”

“Why?”

His ears turned slightly redder. “Because I suggested it to her.”

I nodded. “No harm done. I just have to tell her no.”

“As long as you’re not mad.”

“I’m not mad, but Gibson, I’ve got to tell you, she is not as sweet and generous as you think she is.”

“Yes, she is. You just can’t see it because you’re competing with her for some guy who never would have looked at you in a thousand years. Not that he's around anymore.”

Reminding me of that fact hurt, especially because it was a fact. I got up and got my coat.

Gibson knew he hit a nerve. He did it often enough. “I’m sorry,” he said, letting his voice follow me as I left the print center behind me.

When I got back to my apartment, I found that I had won the lottery—Felicity-Ann was not there. Trinity was on the computer looking at her email.

“Is there an angry email from your mom,” I asked.

“No. You know she doesn’t email me.”

“I just wondered if Felicity-Ann had ratted on you yet.”

Trinity rolled her eyes. “Stop it. She’s not going to tell on me.”

I rolled my eyes and went into the kitchen. I was convinced Felicity-Ann was going to leak Trinity’s wedding plans. It was only a matter of time and there were only six weeks left.

At that exact moment, my phone vibrated in my hoodie pocket. I didn’t recognize the number, but I didn’t get many spam calls, so I answered it. “Hi,” I said.

“Hello, I’m calling for Beth Coldwell,” the voice on the other end of the line intoned.

“That’s me.”

“Hello,” she said again. “My name is Pricina Waldorf. I represent an organization known as the NS. I’ve been told to contact you in regards to your relationship with Henry Brandon and Christian Henderson.”

My breath caught in my throat and I listened while she spoke.

“No need to confirm or deny it. We know who you are, and we’re here to offer you an opportunity.”

I tried to keep steady as my voice threatened to warble. “What sort of opportunity?”

“It’s come to our attention that Henry Brandon is being held involuntarily at a compound northwest of Edmonton. We have reason to believe that you would be the best operative to extract him.”

I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower to mute any bugs if our conversation was being recorded. “I’m not an operative,” I said, leaning against the counter.

“We can use a different term if that suits you,” she said in a crisp professional voice. “Due to your family connections, you are the ideal candidate for executing a rescue operation.”

I didn’t know if she was talking about my father’s family, who I had abandoned, my mother’s family, who had abandoned me, or my connection with Christian. “Does Christian work for you?” I asked when Princina paused to breathe.

“Not as such. Henry Brandon is our employee. As he is the one incarcerated, he has the best available intelligence regarding his extraction. He has asked us to secure your help. He believes that if you were to work together with Christian, his release would be possible. Apparently, Christian is aware of your value on this project but has refused to allow your involvement. He has been working solo on this project for months, without success. He needs your help specifically.”

“He would never ask me,” I agreed.

“Indeed. If you decide to help, I can give you the address of Christian’s cottage and tell you what you need to say to him in order to gain access to the confidential information required in order to help free Henry Brandon.” Princina’s voice sounded mechanical, like an actress who had rehearsed her lines in order to sound as credible as possible. It discredited her.

“This sounds fishy.”

“It does,” Princina agreed. “I realize this call could sound like a prank or a trap. Unfortunately, there isn’t a way to deliver this kind of message without it sounding fake. I am not available to meet you in person. If we did meet, it has about the same likelihood of convincing you as not. The reason we want you is that Brandon’s captors know you, even if you don’t know them, and they will not want to hurt you. Christian will be able to supply you with a plan that, as long as it is not executed by him, will succeed.”

“And if I refuse? I mean, you haven’t even offered me any money yet.”

“Do you need money?” Princina asked condescendingly.

I realized my mistake. Even mentioning money was crass when dealing with the very rich.

“Beth,” she said, sounding like one of my aunts. “From what Brandon has told me about you and your relationship with Christian, it appears he is blocking you because he wishes for nothing more than your safety. If you want to tear that wall down, you’re going to have to do something that violates that wish in such a way that you might not be able to go back to the life you lead now. I’m not making you do this, nor am I making you an offer you can’t refuse by adding an unreasonable sum of money to the mix. I’m offering you a choice. You can choose to live the life he wishes for you, full of safety, or you can choose to live the life that opened for you the moment Christian Henderson became your guardian.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because Brandon told me this is what you want. If it’s not, hang up the phone.” She stopped talking and waited.

I didn’t hang up.

“The address is range road 275-1.”

I wrote it on my palm with my eyeliner.

Princina continued, “When you meet Christian, you must tell him that you know the secret he’s been hiding and you are there to help Brandon. If he tries to get you to tell him the secret without showing you the situation, say that you wouldn’t be there if you weren’t prepared to help. After that, no matter what you see, you must lie forever afterward saying you already knew, you just weren’t prepared for the situation to be so dire. Can you do that, Beth?”

“Can’t you tell me the secret before I go?” I asked.

“No. I’m not cutting open the fruit for you so you can see how rotten it is before you take a bite. I’m telling you it’s rotten. You can decide if you want to move forward knowing that. If you have not made your way out to Christian’s safe house before nightfall on Friday night, the offer will be rescinded and another plan of action will be made. You will not be able to contact me at this number after I cut the connection. Repeat the address to me, so I can be confident I sent you to the right location.”

I read it back.

“Let me give you a second address as well, as it might help Christian resolve to help you.” She read another range road address to me. “That’s where Brandon is being kept. Tell Christian if he won’t help you, you’ll go there alone to rescue Brandon.”

“Should I do that?”

“I think it would be wiser to merely use it as a threat to help persuade Christian.” The way she said the word ‘persuade’ was completely menacing. “I don’t believe it will come to that.” She paused. “Remember, the fruit is rotten. Nothing good is going to happen, except that Brandon will be free and you will no longer be a child in the eyes of Christian Henderson.”

I scratched my head. Who was she that she knew so much about what I wanted? It gave me the shivers. “Isn’t there something more you can tell me? About you? About your organization?”

“No. Follow my instructions perfectly or don’t follow them at all. Good-bye, Beth Coldwell.”

The call ended.