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back on the couch, he sighs. “I don’t know,” he eventually admits, a few minutes later. “Being here, being around humans, around you , it’s making me question everything I thought I knew and wanted. Now, I’m not so sure of what I’m doing or what I want.”
    “Jeez.” I lapse into the couch, heaving my knees into my chest. Haydn’s eyes momentarily scan my bare legs. “That’s some heavy duty stuff. Seems like we’re both having a right time of it lately.”
    “What are you questioning?” He looks puzzled.
    “Everything.”
    Haydn stares into my eyes, and I stare right back at him. Unspoken words charge the space between us, but neither one of us shows a willingness to renew the conversation. The silence isn’t uncomfortable though. My jumbled thoughts weigh heavy on my mind as I finish my hot chocolate. “I’m going to call it a night. See you in the morning.” I rise.
    “Sadie,” he calls out as my feet reach the corridor. “You won’t share anything we discussed with Logan, will you?”
    “Of course not. That was a private conversation. And unlike someone I know”—I purposely quirk my eyebrows—“I don’t tell him everything.” Guilt surges in my gut as I acknowledge that truth, thinking of the many omissions I’m already keeping from the love of my life.
    “Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t tell him everything either. And that’s becoming a problem.”
    My forehead creases in confusion. I sense a double meaning, but I’m way too tired to figure it out or probe him for more detail.
    Exhaustion finally does a number on me, and I drift into unconsciousness. For the first time in weeks, I sleep straight through the night.
    It’s amazing how much better I feel after a proper night’s sleep. As I inspect my reflection in the mirror the next morning, I’m pleased to see some color in my cheeks, some radiance shining behind my eyes.
    It’s only then the thought occurs to me.
    Logan never contacted me last night.
    “Haydn?” I ask, stepping into the kitchen. “How do I contact Logan on this?” I point at the black and silver comport strapped to my slim wrist. I’ve never had cause to use it up to this point, as Logan has always been the one to initiate contact. But today it’s going to be me. And it’s not that I’m one of those girls who freaks out if her boyfriend doesn’t call. I want to make sure he’s okay, and I need to ask him what he knows, or what he can find out, regarding stuff going on in Sector Twenty.
    “Here,” he says, gently grasping my wrist. “Press this button here.” He jabs at a button on the side. “And select Logan from the private contact list. Then touch the screen, and when you see it vibrating, it is reaching out to make the connection.”
    “Got it, thanks.”
    His fingers linger a moment on my skin. “Is everything all right?” He scratches the back of his head.
    “I didn’t get to speak to him last night, and I want to make sure he’s okay.”
    “Of course,” he says, lips pursed. He backs out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave you to it.”
    I touch the screen and feel the gentle vibration dancing invisibly through the air. He picks up pretty much straightaway. “Angel,” Logan’s worried voice greets me. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I wanted to check in, make sure you were okay.”
    “I’m fine,” he says in a clipped tone of voice, which lets me know he’s anything but fine. “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night, but negotiations went on for hours, and I couldn’t find a gap to contact you.”
    Stress punches through the holes in his prose, and I wish I could be there to support him. “Things aren’t improving then?”
    I pick up on his frustrated exhale as he answers. “Definitely not. Things are tense. What they’re proposing now …” He makes a strangled sound before composing himself. “It’s bad. Real bad, because my father is considering it.” He whispers that last bit.
    “Considering what?”