Her lips tremble and she swallows it. I can see her holding herself together with both hands and a prayer. Rage climbs my spine clean and bright. Jinn knew exactly what he was doing.
“Look at me,” I say, and she does. Her eyes are red but clear. “You are safe in here.”
She nods. A breath shudders out. “Thank you.”
Nico glances at me, then at JC. He wants blood. I’m not far behind. Someone has to be the wall, and it looks like I drew that job.
JC breaks the silence. “I’ll talk to Whale. Nobody comes down this hallway. She doesn’t need an audience.”
“Do it,” I say. “And close the kitchen door.”
He goes. Nico lingers, gaze ticking to the couch, then to me. “You want me gone?”
I look at Carrie. Her knuckles are white on the water glass. The couch springs complain under her weight. The room smells like bleach, old smoke, and a beer that died here last week.
“Stay,” I tell him. It tastes like surrender. “But keep it quiet.”
He slides to the far end of the couch and sits, not touching her, close enough if she needs it. I take the hard chair by the door, hands loose on my knees. From the main room, Jinn laughs. The sound curls through the wall and tries to get under my skin.
Carrie’s eyelids keep fluttering. She fights it, then loses ground inch by inch until her gaze goes soft and unfocused. I ease the glass from her hand and set it on the file cabinet. Her skin looks flushed, so I slide my palm over her forehead. Warm. Not fever, just worn out. She exhales, a small sound that catches at the end, and it kills me a little.
“It’s all right,” I tell her, voice low. “Rest.”
Her lashes sink. I stroke the line of hair at her temple with the back of my fingers. She leans into the touch without waking.
JC stands in the doorway, shoulders filling the frame. He tilts his head toward the kitchen. “A word.”
I don’t want to move. I don’t want to take my hand off her. Nico catches my eye and nods once. He eases into my spot, forearms on his knees, his presence a wall between her and the rest of the world.
I rise and follow JC into the kitchen. The hum of the old fridge is loud in here, and the light is the color of old bone. The door to the side room is pulled nearly shut. It feels like a thin lid on a boiling pot.
JC doesn’t waste time. “I saw the way you were looking at her,” he says. His voice is calm, but his eyes pin me. “This is dangerous. She is Jinn’s business.”
“He’s out there with her sister,” I shoot back, my voice harsher than I planned. “Looks like his business moved on.”
JC’s jaw tightens. “You know what I mean. Lines like this get men hurt. They get clubs torn in half.”
Nico slips out and joins us, folding his arms. His gaze flicks from me to JC, waiting for where this is going to land. Wehave stood in kitchens like this our whole lives, one twin to the other, reading the air for sparks. People say we look the same. Same height. Same jaw. Same eyes. To me he’s a mirror with a different soul behind it.
“She needs someone tonight,” I say. “I’m not leaving her to the wolves.”
“That’s not the point,” JC answers. “You get involved, it shifts everything. The presidency, the vote, the way the brothers pick sides. And you know Jinn. He won’t let this slide.”
“He already let her slide,” Nico mutters.
Nico lifts his hands likefine, I’m done. He’s not done. I can feel it rolling off him.
I look between them. “I’m not asking permission to sit with a woman while she sleeps off a bad night. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. She stays put. I stay with her.”
JC steps closer. He lowers his voice. “You care. I can see it. That’s the problem.”
Silence stretches. The fryer pops out in the main room. Someone laughs too loud. It scrapes along my nerves.
“Then say it plain,” I answer. “You think I can’t keep my head.”
“I think you’ll try,” JC says. “And I think the line between trying and failing is thin when you’re tired and angry and she looks at you like you’re the only one left. You’re not wrong to want to protect her. I’m telling you what it costs if you let it turn into something else.”
Nico’s eyes cut to me. He knows the part I’m not saying. He knows it because he’s my twin, because we were born minutes apart and spent our childhood finishing each other’s sentences. He could always feel when I was about to swing. I could feel when he was about to laugh. Right now we both feel the same tight pull in the chest.
