“Who?”
He looked toward the window.
“Her name is Mallory.”
I waited.
“Who is Mallory?”
“A guy from work mentioned her.”
“She’s twenty-four. She’s sick.”
“How do you know her?”
“A guy from work mentioned her.”
That answer felt strange.
Warren had been away from work for months, and he’d never once mentioned Mallory before.
He looked tired, and I immediately felt guilty.
He had always been somewhat private about work, but not secretive. That was why this felt different. He was asking me not to look closely.
“Which guy?”
He sighed.
“Does it matter?”
“Kind of.”
“You don’t even know if you’re a match.”
He looked tired, and I immediately felt guilty.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just don’t understand why this is so specific.”
“Because she needs them.”
“You don’t even know if you’re a match.”
“They’ll test.”
There was something in his expression I couldn’t read.
I studied him.
