Over the next three days, while Ethan and I play house for the weekend, we barely make it out of bed, and then only so far as the couch. We watch old movies, Ethan chastising me for not having caught up on an eternity of popular culture.

“The Sandlot? You never seen The Sandlot? Have you been living under a rock?”

“For the first twelve years, yes.”

“You’re killing me, Smalls!”

“See, that means nothing to me.”

And when TV gets boring, we play cards and board games. As it turns out, Ethan is a terrible loser.

“What was that?” he says, pointing at my leg as we play Scrabble in bed.

“What?”

“That.” He jabs at the air. “What you just did.”

“Uh, scratching an itch.”

I rearrange my tiles on my shelf then lay out zeaxanthin across two of Ethan’s words to land on a triple word score.

“Fuck off,” he says, swiping his hand through the air. “That’s not a word.”

“Is so.”

“Then what is it?”

“Something in our retinas. I don’t remember exactly, but it’s a real thing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, look it up.”

“Uh-huh.” He shakes his head, indignant. “Pull up your pant leg.”

“No. Why?”

“Just do it. If you’ve nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”

“McCarthy said the same thing.”

His eyes grow wide, mouth dropping open. “You filthy little cheater.”

A gasp fills my lungs. “How dare you. I would never sully the sacred game of Scrabble by resorting to nefarious—”

Ethan lunges across the bed, crushing the board and sending little wooden tiles scattering across the floor. He tackles me backward before I can jump out of the way, holding me down with all his weight. I try to squirm, break free, but he’s too heavy and too strong on top of me. His hand reaches for my ankle and yanks down my sock. Three tiles fall out.

“You’re a goddamn thief,” he says, smiling with a sort of awe in his eyes. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“Whatever.” I blow hair out of my face. “Cheating is just a strategy if you don’t get caught.”

But by Monday our playhouse is interrupted by responsibility and we must rejoin the rest of the working stiffs. Leaving Ethan’s place, we see the black sedan with government plates parked at the end of the block. It’s a stark reminder that despite our best attempts to ignore it, the real world was waiting just outside the door. A fact that hasn’t escaped Ethan as he keeps his arm around my shoulder, eyes roving and head on a swivel. I try not to think about it, instead choosing to believe that the threats are nothing more than talk, and that Carter has it under control. Anything else would drive me mad.

“We’ll have the investigation and the trial to cover,” Ethan says as we cut through Louise Nevelson Plaza a block from the office. “But you should give some thought to the next story you want to pitch for a feature. After all the work you put in on the standoff piece, I know Ed will listen.”

“I think I have a topic in mind, actually. I watched this documentary last month about—”

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

“It’s Kumi,” I say, staring at her name flashing across the screen. We haven’t spoken all weekend. A knot twists in my gut. “It could be—”

“Answer it.”

We stop at a bench in the busy plaza while I take the call.

“Hello?”

“Avery, hi,” she says. “How are you?”

There’s a reluctant tremble in her voice. This isn’t a call she wants to make.

“I’m good. Everything okay?”

“Um…well…”

“What? What is it?”

She inhales, then it all comes rushing out in one hurried breath. “I didn’t mean for him to find out but my uncle told my dad and my dad freaked out and now he’s talking about getting a new apartment, and I told him there was no way, it’s not fair, but…”

In the back of my mind, I knew this was coming. Her father’s never met me. I’m no one to him. If I were in his position, I wouldn’t want me around his daughter, either.

“He wants me to move out,” I say.

“I told him he was being unreasonable. It’s not like you can control what people do.”

“But it’s me or the apartment, right?”

She sighs, both out of regret and relief, I suspect. “Right. Really, Avery, I don’t want you to go. I’ll tell him to stick it up his ass and we’ll find somewhere else. I don’t need—”

“No, don’t do that.” I appreciate that Kumi’s willing to blow up a good thing to stay loyal, but I’m not letting her forsake a free apartment just to accommodate me. “He’s just doing what he thinks is best to protect you. Can’t blame him for that. I don’t want you fighting with him again because of me.”

“Avery, I’m so sorry. I really did try, but he’s being a stubborn ass about it. He told my mom, and now she’s losing her mind…”

“It’s okay. I’ll give you a call later. We’ll figure it out.”

Once I’ve ended the call, Ethan wraps his arms around me, hugging me to his chest.

“She’s kicking you out?” he says.

“No, her father. He pays for the apartment. Kumi feels awful about it, but there isn’t much she can do. Without her father’s help, there’s no way she can afford to live in the city and go to law school. I can’t ruin that for her.”

“Hey,” he says, holding my shoulders. “You know what? Fuck him. This is a good thing. You’ll move in with me. Maybe a little sooner than planned, but what the hell, right?”

“That’s different, though. It’s one thing to play sleepover for a few nights, but do you really want—”

“Yes.” He brushes his fingers against my cheek and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Absolutely. Unequivocally. Wholeheartedly, yes. That’s exactly what I want.”

A wide, almost painful smile spreads across my lips as I stare into his bright, emphatic eyes. I love this man. So much it hurts.

“Okay,” I tell him. “But you’ve lost your adverb privileges.”

Ethan winks and kisses my forehead.

“Deal.”

For better or worse, this is happening. All that’s left to do is hang on tight and hope I don’t get thrown from the ride.

When we get to the office and step off the elevator on our floor, it’s obvious right away that something is amiss. It’s too quiet. No talking, no one shouting at each other across the Farm. The TVs on the wall are on Mute, and not even the keyboards are clicking. If it weren’t for the few heads poking up from their cubicles, I’d think the place was empty.

“Uh…is it your birthday?” I ask Ethan, imagining a sudden eruption when two-dozen people jump out to scream Surprise! and toss a pie in his face.

“No.” He scans the room, sensing the same unsettling atmosphere. “Yours?”

“Nope.”

“All right.”

We go to our desks and put our stuff down. At that point I see half the editorial staff crowded around Ed’s office with their ears pressed to the wall.

“So that’s odd.”

Ethan turns to question me and I nod toward the scene.

“It is.”

Wheels spin behind his eyes as he again glances around the room. We see Navid pop up from his cubicle and, spotting us, come rushing over.

“What’s happening?” Ethan asks him, eyes glued to Ed’s office door.

“Hey, guys.” Navid leans in, sort of crouching down like he’s expecting enemy fire. “Have a good weekend?”

“Yeah, great, splendid,” I say. “What’s going on in Ed’s office?”

“Ah, yes.” He looks over his shoulder then lowers his voice. “Well, this weekend I did a little looking around. What with the death threats and whatnot.” He offers a sympathetic smile, but I’d prefer he get on with it. “So, yeah, I was able to track down the thread where your address was posted. Actually, it wasn’t that hard to trace the username back to a few other sites where he used the same one, then find an email associated with one of them. Yelp, if you can believe it. Like, bro, if you’re going to secret message boards to circlejerk with the other meninist fuckboys, at least get a dummy email account.”

“Christ, Navid.” Ethan drags his hands through his hair. “What the fuck are you getting at?”

“Oh, yeah. I figured out who doxxed Avery. Dumb-ass used his work email to create his profile.”

So I was right. It was one of them.

“Who?” A switch flips in Ethan. Something rabid and vicious. “Who’s in there?”

“Well, I told Ed first and he called the FBI guys who were here on—”

Ethan tears away, stalking down the row of cubicles. Heads pop up like prairie dogs from their burrows to watch him. When I realize what’s about to happen, I chase after him. The staff crowded around the door scatter as Ethan throws it open, slamming it off the wall.

“You motherfucker!”

He charges at Cyle sitting in front of Ed’s desk. The guy barely has enough time to turn his head before Ethan grabs the back of his shirt and snaps him backward, yanking him to the floor and out of his overturned chair. I lunge toward him, certain Ethan is about to break Cyle’s face, but Carter gets there first. Like you only see in movies, he reacts in a blink to jerk Ethan’s arm behind his back then restrain him in a choke. Cyle’s left startled and shaking on the ground. Then his eyes meet mine. It takes all my restraint not to spit on him and kick him in the nuts.

“You’re a spineless little shit!” Ethan continues to shout as Carter pulls him out of the office. “Fuck you, worthless bastard!”

I follow them all the way to the stairwell, where Carter shoves Ethan through the door and up against the cement wall.

“Enough,” Carter shouts. His voice cracks off the walls, echoing in the narrow chamber. “Get yourself under control.”

“Why isn’t he under arrest?” Ethan pushes off the wall, fire in his eyes. For a moment I think he might take a swing at Carter. “That dickless fuck—”

“Calm the fuck down.” Carter gets in Ethan’s face, nose to nose. “You want to get slapped with an assault charge over him? Get your shit together.”

That seems to get through to him as Ethan takes a breath and backs up against the wall, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“Carter?” I say. Both men look at me like they’d forgotten I’m here. “Can you fill me in?”

He casts one last cautionary look at Ethan, then adjusts his stance, sliding on the professional persona.

“Your editor called me this morning to let me know they’d identified a member of the staff as having leaked your home address. Specifically, they discovered he improperly accessed the human resources database of employee records. I only arrived a few minutes before you.” He cuts a glare at Ethan. “And was in the process of confronting the individual with the information. He’s admitted to his actions.”

“What does that mean now?”

“He can be charged under New York State law as well as the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. So yes,” he says to Ethan, “he will be arrested.”

Carter straightens his tie, then adjusts his gun holster inside his jacket. Everything back in place, uniform and precise, he tells Ethan, “Stay here until I have him out of the building. If you’re incredibly lucky, he won’t press charges.”

“Hurry,” he says.

Carter leaves us as Ethan and I take a seat at the top of the stairs to wait. His hands shake, full of unextinguished rage. I know the feeling.

“Don’t tell Carter I said this…” I reach up and run my fingers through Ethan’s hair, which gets him to exhale and close his eyes. “Because you’re a very bad boy and must sit in time-out…”

He peeks up, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“But that was kind of hot how you ran in there to vanquish my dragon.”

Grabbing my knee and squeezing, Ethan groans and drops his head. “Don’t do that to me.”

“What?”

His hand slides up my thigh.

“You know what.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lifts his head, eyes narrowed and mean. “So help me, Avery, I would put you up against that wall right now.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Christ, woman.” Ethan sprawls backward to lie on the ground, arms out wide. “You’re going to make my dick fall off.”

“Eh.” I shrug and pat his leg. “You’ll live. It’s not even my favorite part of you.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Love you, too.”

Together we wait in the stairwell for about twenty minutes to allow Carter plenty of time to get Cyle out and prevent Ethan from deciding jail is worth breaking his nose. If Ed or Cara have anything to say about Ethan’s violent outburst, they’re saving it for later, as no one looks at us when we walk back to our desks. But when we approach, I realize there’s a woman sitting in my chair. She has short, pixie-cut, pink hair, the kind that could signal a ship at night, and a narrow face that comes to a sharp point at her chin. It’s her eyes that bother me most, though. Big, alien gray crystals in her head. Anime eyes on cartoon schoolgirls. I don’t know how, but I know who she is before she ever opens her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ethan stops dead in the aisle, as if he’s afraid to get closer.

“Hello, Ethan. Did you miss me?”

“No. Why are you here?”

She smiles, coy in the way only a woman can be when she’s luring a man over the trapdoor beneath his feet.

“I’ve been following the news. Looks like you could use my help.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ve spent the last ten months living on Phelps’s farm, and I know where all the bodies are buried.”