She’s saying I can come back, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find the door locked. Still, I’ve got my knives and my cash and a change of clothes at the ‘Boy. If this is the end of me and her, I can manage. Makes me feel sick to think about it, but I could. I don’t want to, and I hope she won’t make me. I finish with my boots and stand up, trying to come up with something to say. She’s just standing there fidgeting.

“Look, Verite.” That’s not much of a start. I run a hand through my hair while I think about what the hell I can say that won’t make things worse. “I got into this town with my pockets empty, praying like hell for a good year. And—and you made it a good year. So far.” I close my eyes a minute. Not going to beg. Can’t make an idiot out of myself now.

The breakfast tray on the nightstand catches my eye, so I move to pick it up and start gathering the dishes. Might as well take care of them on my way out.