“Ginger ale sounds great.” I accept the frosty bottle and Amber grabs an opener out of a drawer. She pops hers first and passes it to me and I trade her for the one in my hand.
I look around her apartment. It’s sparkly clean but not neat, if that makes sense. No dirt or dust, but there are papers scattered on the desk and a pair of high heels unceremoniously discarded by the front door.
“So, um… how are you feeling?” Amber asks.
Ugh. This is definitely not the conversation I want to have, even though I know she’s genuinely asking and seems to care about my response. I draw a breath and launch into why I’m here. “I know I didn’t want you to, um, use your abilities to tell me anything about Carlos, but…” I swallow. It’s harder to say than I expect. “I just wondered if—I mean, I started wo
