Chapter 74 BACKUP
POV: JORDAN
The smell of chlorine hit Jordan before she even pushed through the doors. The athletic complex was winding down for the night, the whole building somehow exhausted after hours of noise and movement. The air was thick with steam from the showers, mixed with the sharp sting of bleach and the wet, slippery feeling of tile under her sneakers. It felt like she was moving through something heavy, not just walking.
Jordan kept her head down. Hood up, eyes on the floor, sneakers scuffing the old rubber mats. She was good at this. She had been practicing for years, slipping through spaces without drawing attention, making herself invisible.
Maybe she was too good at it, because she almost ran straight into him before she even realized he was there. The collision was solid and warm. Her mind split in two right away.
The first part took over automatically: Assess, exit, recover. She stepped back, heart hammering in her chest. Her mind raced through the checklist. Who is it? Is it safe? Are there witnesses? Is her voice low enough? Is her hood still up?
The second part was quieter. The warmth from where his arm brushed hers lingered on her shoulder. She tried to push the feeling away, but it stayed, even while she tried to ignore it.
Teddy. His hair was still damp from the showers, towel slung around his neck. He had that easy, athletic look, muscles built from years of sports, not weight rooms.
"Sorry, man," she said, tugging her hood a little lower. She made her voice flat, deeper, the way she always did when she was James.
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "No, that was my fault."
She looked up, because not looking up would have been weirder. His eyes were on her, not just in a general way, but really looking, like he was trying to figure out something important.
"Do you want to come to dinner?" he asked.
She blinked. "What?"
He laughed, but it was thin, nervous laughter. "Team dinner. My dad's hosting it at the country club. The whole deal. I was hoping you might want to come. I could use some backup."
He looked away as he got to the last part, his voice softening, like he had not planned to admit he needed her there. The word backup hung in the space between them, heavier than it should have been.
Jordan’s brain was already running through the risks. Country club. Names and faces. People who stared too long. People who remembered details. Every step closer to Teddy was a step toward being seen, a step closer to everything she had worked to hide falling apart.
"I can't," she said. "Homework."
She saw something flicker across his face, fast and real, before he pulled it back under control. His shoulders drew in just a little, the smallest sign of disappointment from someone who had already been bracing for it but still hoped anyway.
"Yeah, okay. Sure," he said quietly.
She walked past him, making it three steps before she realized her hand had found the compass through her hoodie, the old chain, the cracked face, the needle always spinning. Some things are worth the risk.
She stopped. Stood there with her hand on the compass, the empty hallway stretching ahead, and the three steps she had already taken behind her.
She turned around.
Teddy was still standing where she had left him, towel in his hands, hair damp, not moving. He looked like someone who was waiting for something and was not ready to accept it was over. When the doors opened again and he saw it was her, his face changed for a second. She saw how much hope he had been holding onto and how surprised he was to find it was still alive.
"Teddy," she said.
He waited, barely breathing.
"I'll come."
He stared at her, like he was not sure he had heard her right. "You… what?"
"Dinner. Country club. Whatever," she repeated, her voice steady, James again. "Text me when you are leaving."
The relief on his face was huge, way bigger than the invitation should have meant. She saw it, and filed it away for later, in the place where she put things she could not afford to think about right now. She looked him in the eye for just the right amount of time, gave him a half-smile that was not totally fake, and turned away.
At the end of the corridor, she caught a flash of copper hair in the doorway. Jack Porter. She had noticed him before, the way she noticed everyone at Thornfield. Catalogued, observed, kept track of. He was watching her now, but his gaze shifted to Teddy for a second before she had really registered him. She recognized the look on his face, not from training, but from her own life. It was the look of someone seeing something in another person that the other person could not see yet. She knew that look because she had seen it in her own reflection, in safe house mirrors, for two years. The gap between who you are and who you pretend to be.
She filed that look away too. She was not going to do anything about it, just hold onto it carefully, because that kind of truth belonged to the person it was about, not anyone else.
She walked back toward the dorms. The sky outside had gone that particular Thornfield grey that settled over campus after dinner. Shadows stretched across the stone paths, her footsteps quiet as she moved.
She was already thinking about what she would say to her handler about the dinner. Already planning how to be James Blake at a country club table with Teddy Phillips’s father at the head. Already working out how to get through the night without losing her grip on any of the threads she was holding.
She picked up her pace, eyes forward, and did not look back.