Chapter 8 #2
She looked up again, genuine curiosity replacing the wariness. “Six kids?”
“Yep. I have three brothers and two sisters.”
“That must have been…loud.”
“Still is when we’re all together. And sometimes just chaotic when we’re one-on-one. Last month, my brother Leonard called me at three in the morning because his math class adopted a goldfish as their mascot, and he couldn’t remember if you’re supposed to feed it once or twice a day.”
“Once. Overfeeding is the most common cause of goldfish mortality.”
“I’ll let him know.” I took another bite of cookie. “You know about goldfish?”
“I know about a lot of things. It’s easier than knowing about people.”
The honesty of the statement hung between us. She seemed to realize what she’d said and focused intently on her sandwich.
“People are complicated,” I agreed. “But sometimes they’re worth the effort.”
“Sometimes.”
We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. She’d stopped typing, actually focusing on her lunch. I noticed the tension in her shoulders had eased slightly.
“Have you been in security work your whole life?”
“I was in the military first. Army Rangers.” No need to include the part that the Army had seemed like the best bet since college was going to be an absolute no-go for me. “Then private security. Felt like a natural progression.”
I studied her face. “What about you? Always wanted to work with computers?”
“I always wanted to solve puzzles. Computer engineering and programming just happened to be the best way to do that.” She arranged her apple slices in a perfect fan on the table. “I was good at it. Being good at something is easier than…other things.”
“Like making friends?”
She shrugged. “Friends require maintenance. Code just requires logic.”
“But code can’t eat lunch with you.”
“No,” she admitted. “It can’t.”
I wanted to reach across the table, to offer some kind of comfort, but I knew that would send her running. Instead, I kept my voice casual. “I need to tell you something. About the project.”
Her expression immediately shuttered. “Alex sent you.”
“In a way. The FBI let us know that the Cascade Protocol is going up on the black market in ten days.”
She went very still. “Ten days. So we’ve got to have the countermeasure completely functional by that time.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s… That’s not enough time. The recursive loop alone will take three days to resolve, and then we have to integrate the stabilization matrix with the existing infrastructure—”
“Charlotte.” I kept my voice gentle. “I know it seems impossible.”
“Alex wanted you to threaten me, didn’t he?” Her voice was flat, resigned. “Fire me if I don’t deliver, something like that.”
I wasn’t surprised she’d already figured it out. She might not be good with interacting with people, but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand them. “He suggested it.”
“But?”
“But I asked if I could talk to you instead.”
She tilted her head, studying me with those sharp green eyes. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been watching you for three days. You’re already doing everything humanly possible. Threats won’t make you work harder—they’ll just make you break.”
“So, this is what, the soft approach? Good cop to Alex’s bad cop?”
“This is me, having lunch with a colleague, telling her the truth about a bad situation.” I leaned forward slightly. “I know you’re exhausted. I know you’re pushing yourself past any reasonable limit. And I know that asking you to push harder isn’t fair.”
“But you’re asking anyway.”
“I’m telling you what’s at stake. What you do with that information is up to you.”
She was quiet for a long moment, absently arranging and rearranging her apple slices. I could practically see her mind working, calculating timelines, running through possibilities.
“I can’t go any faster,” she said finally. “I’m already at maximum capacity.”
“I know.”
“But I can work smarter. Maybe bring in Darcy for the integration phase, delegate some of the testing protocols…” She was talking more to herself than to me now, lost in problem-solving mode.
Without thinking, I reached across the table and covered her hand with mine. She startled but didn’t pull away.
“Whatever you need,” I said. “Resources, equipment, coffee, someone to remind you to eat—just ask.”
She stared at our hands, and I became acutely aware of how small hers was under mine, how cold her fingers were despite the warm room.
“Why do you care?” she asked softly.
“Because thousands of lives depend on you succeeding. Because you’re killing yourself trying to save them. Because…” I paused, not sure how to articulate the protective instinct she triggered in me. “Because someone should.”
She looked up then, and something shifted in her expression.
For a moment, the walls came down completely, and I saw her—not the prickly programmer, not the isolated genius, just Charlotte.
Brilliant, exhausted, lonely Charlotte who’d been carrying this weight alone for so long she’d forgotten what it felt like to share it.
The moment stretched between us, heavy with something I wasn’t ready to name. Our hands were still touching, her fingers curling slightly against my palm.
Then she blinked, reality crashing back. She pulled her hand away, started packing up her lunch with quick efficiency.
“I need to get back to work,” she said, not meeting my eyes.
“Charlotte—”
“Thank you. For lunch. For…being honest.” She closed her laptop, clutched it against her chest like armor. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
I didn’t doubt it for a second. The question was whether she’d kill herself in the process.