sorry about your brother,” I tell her. “Really.”
Then I push past the security guards and walk down the hallway. When the younger man tries to put his hand on my arm—making a show of escorting me out—I stop and glance at him.
“Does that seem like a good idea to you?” I ask coldly.
He pulls back, sensing something in my voice, and lets me go. But he trails me all the way to the exit and then stands at the door to watch me walk out to my car. I get behind the wheel, feeling numb and yet angry at the same time. The fact that I’m the one who caused Dani’s pain seems unlikely to me. I care about her so much, I would never do that. Yet it’s the truth.
I start the engine and drive out to the warehouse, but there’s nothing much I can do here, since we obviously don’t keep security footage. I spend a few hours questioning the staff, but they all claim they didn’t see anything out of place.
I find it hard to focus. My mind drifts to Dani again and again. After the warehouse, I end up driving out to parents’s place. I’m not sure if I do this because I need help in the business, or I need help with Dani. Maybe both. In any case, I’ve never been more relieved to have my old man there for me, especially since we’re not as distant as we once were.
I have Dani to thank for that.
26
Dani
The next week is like a fever dream. I keep wondering if I’m going to wake up and realize I’m the one in the hospital bed, the sheets tangled around my sweaty body.
It all seems so absurd: sitting next to Wyatt’s bed for hours, whispering to him about Mom and Dad, trying to coax him awake. Or going straight from Wyatt’s room to the EMT staff room, getting changed, and attacking my shift with a fierce vengeance. Or working out in the hospital gym, as though by running until my legs feel like they’re going to fall off, I can forget Angelo.
Here’s the really fucked up thing: I miss him. I really miss him. Even though I know he’s the one who almost killed Wyatt—who may yet kill him, depending on how this whole chaos turns out—it’s the truth. I don’t know how that can be possible.
I love you. I never expected him to say that, but now that he has, I replay it over and over in my mind. I imagine different scenarios where I told him I loved him, too.
“I get it,” Zora says, as we’re sharing a coffee in the waiting room. I’ve explained everything to her and Quinny now, except for the part about Angelo being a drug dealer. I just said we had a fight. “But this rift between you two, Dani, it seems bad. Are you sure you can’t tell me what he did? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Not physically,” I rush to say, and then feel a pang of annoyance when I realize I’m defending him. “Let’s just say this: he’s partly to blame for Wyatt’s situation. I can’t say more than that, though. Okay?”
She looks at me closely, nodding slowly. “I think I understand,” she says. “But you still love him?”
I down my black coffee. I like the way it scorches down my throat. “I think so,” I say, voice strangled. “Does that make me the world’s biggest idiot?”
Zora touches my arm supportively. “I think love makes most people the world’s biggest idiot.”
“What’s that about love?” Quinny says, walking down the hallway in her construction gear.
“You don’t have to come, you know,” I tell them. “I know you’re busy. I know you’ve got lives to live.”
Quinny drops into the seat next to me, placing her helmet on the table. “Shut your face, Dani,” she says, laughing. “We’re your ride-or-dies, remember?” Quinny nods at Zora, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “This girl, I swear to God. You do realize this is a hospital and not a BDSM club, right?”
Zora flicks her hair back. She’s dyed it violent shades of pink and black. It suits her, just like the fishnets and platform books. “Oh, really?” she replies playfully, batting her eyelashes. “Well, I wish somebody would have told me!”
I do my best to laugh along with them, but I know I’m forcing it. It’s hard to think about anything other than Wyatt and the mess we’re in, even when something else