“You’re calling me Callahan because it helps you pretend there’s nothing deeper going on here,” I say in a low voice. “Cut the shit, Penny. You know my name. Say it.” She stares at me for a long moment, defiance in her eyes and the upturn of her nose, but then she pushes me away—and pulls the sweater off her head. She lets it crumple to the floor. “Cooper,” she whispers. “I’m scared.” “Is that why you wore his sweater?”
