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I completely broke down during the surgery. Bawled like a baby, alone in the waiting room.
Then I felt an arm drop down around my shoulders.
It was Nero. I hadn’t told him I’d be at the hospital—he must have heard from Patricia. He sat with me for hours, just holding me like that. The scent of his skin was so warm and comforting. I should have been embarrassed to cry in front of him, but I wasn’t. Because I remembered that night on the beach when he told me about his mom, and his face was wet, too.
It’s one thing to be comforted by somebody who’s nice to everyone. It’s an entirely different thing to get care from the last person in the world you’d expect to be nurturing. I knew this was as weird for Nero as it was for me. That’s what made it mean so much more to me. That he was doing something so out of character, just for me.
When I bring my dad back home, Nero’s there again, to help get him up the stairs and into his bed. He isn’t just kind to me, he’s kind to my father. Gentle with him. Respectful. Reminding him of a time a few years back when my dad found a bumper for an old Corvette that Nero couldn’t get anywhere else.
“So I owe you a favor,” Nero says. “ ‘Cause I still have that Corvette. We should take a drive in it, when you’re feeling better.”
My dad can barely speak. He squeezes Nero’s arm, before laying back in his bed, exhausted.
Before Nero leaves, he pulls me aside and says, “I called the hospital. I told them to send the bills to me instead.”
“I don’t want you to do that!” I tell him. “In another week, I’ll have enough to cover it myself.”
Nero frowns. His face only looks more beautiful when he’s angry, but it’s also terrifying. Like an avenging angel.
“About that . . .” he says. “Schultz has been following me everywhere, like fucking gum on my shoes.”
“I know,” I say. “I’ve seen him, too. He even followed me to the hospital.”
“That means he’s seen us together.”
“I know.”
“A lot.”
“I know.”
Schultz hasn’t been texting me. Which is probably an ominous sign. I know he hasn’t given up—he expects me to turn on Nero, and Levi, too.
“The day of the job, I was thinking you should lead him off somewhere. As a diversion,” Nero says. “You’ll still get your cut.”
“No way,” I shake my head. “You’re just trying to keep me out of it.”
“I’m not!” Nero insists. “We need to get rid of him somehow. If he sees the whole thing go down—”
“Then we’ll draw him off. But I’m still driving.”
I’m the getaway driver. That’s my job—and I’m doing it. I’m getting what Raymond Page owes my brother. And something else, too.
I don’t want to say it, not to Nero. But I want to prove to him that I can be part of his world. I’m not the good little girl I was in high school. I’m Old Town to the core, just like him.
“Fine,” Nero says, when he sees I’m not backing down. “That means we’ll have to change the plan . . .”
“Then change it,” I say.
He lets out a rumble of annoyance.
“It’s not that easy!”
“You never do anything the easy way—why start now?”
“GOD! You’re so stubborn.” Nero flexes and clenches his fingers, like he’d enjoy strangling me right now.
“I can do this,” I tell him.
