The Lies That Bind

19: Selfless

Step—ring—step—ring—step—

Calla seethed in furious silence, fantasies of revenge playing over and over again in her head as she walked, each step accompanied by the obnoxious tinkle of brass bells.

I'm going to kill him, she thought, glaring at the back of Vincent's head. The repellent, bell-riddled sweater she now wore had been his idea, after all. And he deserved to suffer for it.

I'm going to kill them both, she amended, shooting Cooper a scandalized look as they crossed the street. "I blame you for this," she hissed, flicking one of the bells dangling from the hem of her sleeve.

"But you look so...festive," Cooper said, grinning over at her. 

He dodged her finger when she tried to jab him in the ribs, so she tugged at the end of his hood—which doubled as a Santa hat—instead.

"Quit flirting back there and pick up the pace!" Vincent called, arm-in-arm with Natalie. She smiled back at them, her sweater noticeably bell-free.

"I'm going to wrap this sweater around your neck and hang you with it," Calla called back. Natalie laughed, assuming she'd meant it in good fun. Well, it would be fun for me, anyway, Calla thought, darkly amused.

"She's an angry elf," Cooper announced loudly. Ahead of them, Vincent burst out laughing.

Identical brownstone apartments huddled against the sidewalk, intimidating in their uniformity. Ignoring the boys' banter, Calla scanned each mailbox they passed, hunting for the right combination of numbers that would point them in the right direction. She'd almost convinced herself that somewhere, somehow they'd made a wrong turn when Cooper gently circled his fingers around her wrist, forcing her to match her pace with his.

"I'm not lost," she said quickly, anticipating his next question.

A miscalculation. "That's not what I wanted to talk about," he said quietly. "Earlier, you mentioned something about Michaels. What was that about?"

Michaels knows you're involved. You're not safe, Cooper.

She spared a quick glance at the next mailbox. 127. Not even close. "It was about your complete lack of communication." The bells at her wrist jingled as she flicked his temple. "And more importantly, it's about you being more careful in the future."

"Ow," he grumbled, rubbing the side of his head. "You flick really hard."

"Remember that." She considered him as they passed the mailboxes for apartments 129 and 131. "Michaels...he's tracking me, somehow. When I first confronted him, he knew to find me at the cafe. And then he was waiting for me at work—"

"Pause." Cooper peered over at her. "He was waiting for you at work? And I'm just now hearing about this, because...?"

"Because you don't know how to pick up the fucking phone?"

"Oh." He cleared his throat, abashed. "Right. Complete lack of communication, and whatnot."

"Moron," she muttered, and then sighed. "Look. The moral of this super fun, super happy story is that Michaels can track me, and he's not doing that," she added when Cooper shot a suspicious glance at a cluster of nearby hedges, "by hiding in the bushes like some D-list criminal."

Cooper ripped his attention away from the hedges. "You're saying Michaels is an A-list criminal?"

"His criminal classification is irrelevant!" Calla burst out, exasperated.

"I'd argue that's very important."

Calla pinched the bridge of her nose. "Cooper."

"Fine." Her agitation ebbed somewhat as he clasped her hand in his. "You're saying there's a good chance Michaels is watching us? Like, right now?"