Page 145 of The Rut in the Road

“You want to know something? Nobody who matters gives a rat’s ass that you killed your uncle. Or that shitheel Mulrooney. Or, I’m guessing, the guy who had a heart attack and hit the light pole. Or any of those shitheads from the Church of Unholy Judgment.” He paused for a moment. “Anybody I’m missing from the list?” he asked.

I shook my head, only a little surprised that Hart knew about the man in the car. But he was already moving on.

“Great. If you’d given me a dozen orderlies or some shit from Tranquil Brook, I wouldn’t have wasted two fucking seconds worrying about their sorry asses, either. My point, kid, is that sometimes you have to kill or be killed, and nobody—especially not Rajesh Parikh—is going to judge you for that, got me?”

“I—hurt him,” I whispered.

“Well, yeah. We do that sometimes, to people we love?—”

“No,” I interrupted him. “I mean…” I wiggled my fingers.

Hart was silent for a beat. “On purpose?” he asked, his voice soft, controlled.

I shook my head.

“So then that’s a you problem,” he replied mildly. “Not a him problem.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“So work on your fucking magic, kid. I don’t know how it works and I mostly don’t fucking care, but I do know that you can control it—but I also know that sometimes shit gets real and the sparks start flying, literally or figuratively.” He shrugged. “But since Raj is still very obviously breathing, you didn’t do anything irreparable, so decide whether you’re going to end it, or suck it the fuck up and let him give you a tongue bath or whatever fucked-up shit you do that I don’t want or need to know about. Got me?”

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open.

“Got me, kid?”

I nodded, more out of reflex than anything else.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He pushed himself to standing, grunting a little, then turned to go.

“Hart?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“How?”

He let out a strangled laugh. “Fuck if I know, kid. Not my relationship. The box of Frosted Flakes was my best idea, and itfailed.” He ran his hand over his braid. “Seriously, kid, I don’t know. I wish I did. But we’re all worried to shit about him, and from where I’m sitting, you’re the only one who can fix it before the stripey dumbfuck does something monumentally stupid and gets himself shot.”

“Shot?” Worry sliced through me.

Hart sighed. “You have a bad day in some jobs, you spill coffee on your crotch. At our jobs, you get fucking mangled by a ghost or cursed or fucking shot. So yeah. If he doesn’t get his shit together and something goes sideways? Shot is a very real possibility.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

Hart nodded. “Don’t wait too long, kid, okay?”

It tookme almost twelve hours to get up the courage to do anything, mostly because I couldn’t figure out what I neededtodo.

I felt like my whole relationship with Raj was built on me doing unforgivable things that he kept forgiving me for, andthatfelt awful.

So I started with an apology text.

I’m sorry.

Are you okay?came back almost immediately.

Not really,I told him honestly.Are you mad at me?

I’m worried, not mad.