“I get it. I do. You think I don’t know Alex because I can’t remember my address or Social Security number or the name of my second-grade teacher. But I know how to breathe and tie my shoes. I know the words to at least thirty Taylor Swift songs and that if I sit in that backward-facing seat over there I’ll want to throw up in fifteen minutes. I may not remember Alex. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t know her. And I’m telling you, she’s not a traitor. And I’m going to prove it.”
For a moment, Sawyer just stared at her like maybe he should have left her at the bottom of the river, tied up on the dirt floor, stuck in that snowbank in Paris, making angels out of snow and blood.
He drew a deep breath. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but how, exactly, are you planning on saving your sister?”
Zoe had been under the impression that Sawyer was smart. Zoe was evidently mistaken. “With this!” She held up the bank card. “You think the drive is there, don’t you?”
“I don’t know that—”
“Well, I’m going to get it.” She felt so proud of herself with her train ticket and her plan and her mission. But then he had to go and paste a smug look on his smug face.
“Really? What’s the plan? Walk in and pretend like you’re your own twin sister?”
“Why not? The Parent Trap is a classic—”
“No!”
“No what?”
“No, I’m not going to let you risk your life because of some movie you can’t even remember.”
“I remember The Parent Trap.”
“How—”
“I don’t know! Okay? Maybe that’s stored in a part of my brain that isn’t broken.” She hated how her voice cracked, how her eyes burned. “Maybe there’s a part of me that isn’t broken, believe it or not.”
It was either the best thing to say or the worst—Zoe couldn’t tell because everything about Sawyer changed in that moment. “I believe it,” he said. “I do. But, Zoe, it won’t work.”
“How do you—”
“Because I already thought of it! I’ve thought about it a million times and . . .” Oh, he was regretting those words. She could see it in his eyes. And she knew.
“It wasn’t just about the card, was it? You needed . . . me?”
“Zoe . . .”
“You were going to steal me? Use me? That was why you helped me. That was why . . .”
It was all a lie. A lie and a fraud and a con. In that moment, she felt like just another knife or Go Bag or gun. She could imagine him telling someone Oh, that’s Zoe. She’s my second favorite sister . . .
“No, Zoe, listen. Please—”
But Zoe was already up and climbing over him. She was already walking away.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Him
He was an asshole. He knew the words in a half-dozen languages, but in every one it was absolutely true. He should let her walk away, cool down. Have her space. Only an asshole would bolt out of his seat and dart down the center aisle, saying, “It’s not what you think.”
“So it’s my fault”—Zoe spun on him—“that I heard the words that you said in the order that you said them? It’s my fault that you’re regretting the words that you used. That’s my fault?”
“No,” Sawyer said, but her face seemed to get a little more murder-y, so he tried, “Yes? Yes. And no. Maybe. What’s the right answer here?”
Then she groaned, whipped back around, and kept walking, out of that car and into the next. And Sawyer did the only thing that he could: he followed.
Sooner or later, she was going to have to listen to him. After all, sooner or later she was going to run out of train. But as she stepped into the small vestibule at the end of the car she stopped and turned.
“Why are you even here? I thought you were leaving me. Isn’t that why you took the . . .” But she trailed off, pieces coming together in her mind. “Oh. Of course. You’re following me so you can get this back.” She pulled the bank card out of her pocket, holding it like a magician who was getting ready to make it disappear. “Come to steal it from me? Again? Or did you come to steal me?”
The fact that she was willing to flash that card around showed just how little she understood the danger she was in, so he gently eased it back into her pocket and closed the door behind them.
But that meant they were closer than they had been, and she looked up at him, fire in her eyes.