The Duplicate

Chapter Thirty-four

I'm a moron. I rushed right past him.

Trip is leaning back against the siding of the house, next to the door. Glaring at me. His eyes are like stars right now—bright silver, metallic, glimmering in the thumbnail of moonlight. They're just as cold, just as hard and unfeeling as the winking lights in the black sky.

"Go back inside," he says, the words fogging in front of him. Unnaturally slow, heavy breaths steam from his nose. He's still fighting to control his breathing.

Trying to catch my own, I glance him over. "You're the one without a coat on."

His eyes drop to my bare feet. He doesn't mention I'm the one without shoes on. I forgot that. He only levels his eyes on mine again. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Hugging my arms to my chest for warmth, I search him through the darkness. My gaze doesn't waver from his, even though he's staring me down. We're at a stalemate, each of us waiting for the other to break eye contact. Neither of us looks away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"No."

"You smashed that coffee mug when the baby started screaming."

"Fuck off." A flash of teeth. His eyes flare.

But his anger doesn't faze me. It only confirms the truth. It was that noise which made him snap and smash the coffee mug, just like it was that noise which made him bolt awake, gasping for breath. That noise doesn't just piss him off. It disturbs him.

"Was it a nightmare," I ask, quietly, "or a memory, Trip?"

Finally, he breaks the eye contact and clenches his jaw.

"What happened?"

"Go back inside." He flicks his hand towards the door. "Leave me alone."

"Just answer me instead of—"

He snaps, head whipping around to fix his gaze on me again. "Did you want to leave the City?"

This time, his anger does faze me. A grim look has entered his eyes as they glean my face, scanning me for a reaction. Are you sure you want to play this game? his eyes ask. Because I'm really fucking good at it.

No, I don't want to play this game. Not with Trip. Like a deer frozen in headlights, I stare at him. "I just asked you a quest—"

"Why should I answer your questions when you won't answer mine?"

I shiver as another gust of wind washes over us. A leaf skids across the porch and snags on my pajama bottoms. I look away.

"If you're not going to start talking, Ashford, go inside."

"You know we had to leave the City. Otherwise, Government probably would have—"

"Don't act stupid. That's not what I meant and you know it."

Huffing, I fumble with the sleeve of my coat and shift my weight from one leg to another. Trip watches me like a hawk, eyes prying me open. I can feel it, and I hate it. It's scaring me. "I liked where I lived," I say finally. "I liked my home. I liked the people I worked with at Withorn hos—"

"That's not an answer."

"I am answering."

"Yes or no?"

"Yes. I wanted to leave the City."

Trip shakes his head.

"Listen, you can think what you want, but—"