Calla's POV
I had one job. One single job. And I was about to blow it wide open by calling Simone.
I sat on the edge of the marble bathtub with the shower blasting behind me and steam thickening the air, pressing my phone against my chest like I could change my mind if I held it long enough. The running water was cover. I knew it was pathetically thin cover — the kind that only works in films — but I needed to hear a voice that knew my real name so badly that I stopped caring how reckless it was.
Simone picked up on the second ring. Of course she did.
"Calla." Just my name, flat and careful, like she'd been sitting beside her phone for sixteen days waiting for it to ring and had already decided not to sound relieved when it did.
"Hey." I kept my voice low, nearly swallowed by the show
