Free Harmonic by Erica O’Rourke Page A

on the porch, hugging herself against the cold. It’s the easiest thing in the world to take her by the hand and draw her inside.
    â€œIt’s freezing out there,” I scold. “Did you walk from the station?”
    â€œDrove,” she says through chattering teeth.
    â€œCome in.” I tug her toward the kitchen and pray that Del won’t cause trouble.
    â€œCocoa? Tea? Coffee?”
    â€œCocoa sounds good,” she replies, and catches sight of Del. “Hi. I’m Laurel.”
    Del nods and turns to me, eyebrows raised. When I turn away to busy myself with the saucepan, she says, “I’m Del.”
    â€œNice to finally meet you.” Laurel smiles and the dimple comes out. “Share some cocoa?”
    For a moment, Del studies the two of us—and then turns on her heel and bolts upstairs.
    â€œSorry,” I say, passing Laurel a mug with an extra-big helping of marshmallow fluff. “She’s having a rough time right now.”
    â€œNo problem.” She warms her hands on the white stoneware. “Nice kitchen.”
    She’s never been here before. Never met my family, never seen my house. I feel bashful, letting her see this aspect of my life. And ashamed that I never shared it with her before today. How hard would it have been to bring her here for dinner? My parents know I’m gay. My mom stopped asking about cute boys in my trainings sessions by the time I was thirteen, instead dropping gentle hints that if there was someone special, I was welcome to bring her home. Del has always known, cheerfully pointing out possible girlfriends and wondering who would be willing to date someone as uptight as me. I can’t blame them.
    I didn’t bring Laurel home because it seemed too official. A statement about something I didn’t want to draw attention to, and a statement to her about our future—when I was already worried we didn’t have one.
    â€œMy mom likes to cook,” I say. “Are you hungry?”
    â€œNope.” She takes a sip of the cocoa. “Sweet.”
    â€œSorry. Habit.” I forget that she doesn’t Walk as much as I do, so frequency poisoning isn’t a problem. “I can make you something else.”
    â€œI didn’t say it was bad. Just sweeter than I expected.” She licks at a bit of marshmallow fluff clinging to her lower lip, eyes laughing.
    My hand slides across the island of its own accord, the tips of my fingers brushing hers.
    â€œI hate to sound like my sister, but what’s up? I wasn’t expecting to see you. Not that I’m complaining.”
    She straightens and beams at me. “This came through right before I left work tonight.”
    She pulls a sheet of paper from her back pocket and unfolds it, smoothing the wrinkles. “Interrupted cleaving. This afternoon.”
    â€œLattimer came in and spoke to Green. It looked like a big deal, so I found some extra work to do until she left, then pulled up the file. And voilà. Free Walkers in action.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t have done that. You could get in trouble.”
    â€œToo late,” she singsongs. “Anyway, if we go now, we might be able to follow the trail.”
    â€œThat’s Garnett’s job.”
    â€œGarnett’s not here,” she replies. “And I’m cuter.”
    â€œTrue. But irrelevant.”
    â€œGarnett didn’t find this Echo,” she retorts. “I want in, Addie.”
    I pause. This is a bad idea, but telling Laurel no after she’s taken a risk for me seems like a slap in the face.
    The old Laurel would have put this off. Waited to tell me until the next morning, so it didn’t interfere with our plans. She’d had a tough time understanding that for Cleavers, work doesn’t stay at the office.
    The new Laurel brought the office to me.
    â€œThis is your job,” she says, so low I can barely hear her. “This is who you are. I’m