Killian.
She couldn’t look at me.
Candice was moving around the command center like her life depended on keeping her back to me, picking files up off the floor and stacking them with way too much concentration.
Her shirt was inside out. She still hadn’t noticed.
I leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching her fuss with the same three folders over and over.
"Candice."
"I’m working," she said quickly, still facing the desk.
"You’re stacking the same files in different orders."
"They need to be organized."
I raised an eyebrow. "The eastern border report is sitting on top of last quarter’s cafeteria budget."
"It’s fine. They’re both paper."
I waited a beat. "Your shirt’s inside out."
She stopped dead.
Slowly, she looked down at herself. The seams were showing. The tag was fla
