“Who told you?” I’m curious how Ford suddenly knew about Evan other than snooping through my phone. He turns his head, eyes catching on the rubber duck that I take everywhere with me, and place on my nightstand, so I see it when I fall asleep at night and wake to it watching me in the morning. Here’s to watching over you. As if a bath toy can do that. As if anyone does. “Sebastian. He came to warn me.” “Warn you about what?” Ford can’t look at me, but I see the uncertainty and distrust in the set of his shoulders. “You.”
