“He won’t say anything. But make it make sense, Anna! You were driving recklessly? Your dad would be turning in his grave.”
I knock her hand away and snarl. “Don’t talk about him. Or his grave. Not this week, Melanie.”
“But I?—”
“That wasn’t cool. I already have enough shit to deal with, so dissociation is how I handle the rest. I hit Dean with my car, thought I killed him,didn’t, and when I planned to call an ambulance, he told me not to.”
“He was just hit by a car!” she explodes. “He doesn’t get to decide if an ambulance comes or not.”
I shove up from my stool, too anxious to sit, and pace her kitchen. “It happened, he refused medical care, so I brought him home. Then I wrapped his shoulder and prayed like hell he’d live through the night.”
“Oh my God.” Groaning, Mel jams the heels of her palms against her eyes. “What a freakin’ mess. Why’s he lying about the brother thing? He could’ve said he was visiting you.”
“Carter turned up last night.” I push my fingers through my hair. “I panicked, because of the wholedying stranger on my couchthing. He wanted to talk to me about the wedding and date-y stuff, and he wasclearlyside-eyeing my new guest. When he asked who Dean was, I stupidly blurted out that he was my brother.”
“Smart.” Nick swipes moisture from his eyes, turning and leaning against the wall. “Did you leave your intelligence back in law school, or…?”
“Shut the hell up! It gets worse.”
“Worse than running a man down and not reporting it?” Mel questions. “How could it possibly get worse, unless…” She gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh my gosh. Did he die?” She looks toward the front of her house. “Was it internal bleeding? This is why we get medical help, Anna!”
“He didn’t die! Jesus.” I stalk around the counter and stop in front of my best friend. We’re the same height, almost the same build, so when I step into her line of sight, I capture her focus and take her hand in mine. “You know those heists we’ve seen on the news?”
Her face drains deathly white. “Stop it.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s one of those guys,” I groan. “He says he was out exercising last night, but he was wearing jeans and may or may not have been in possession of a ski mask.”
“May or may not?” she explodes. “What do you mean may or may not?”
“I mean, the law is kinda strict on this stuff, and plausible deniability matters.” I draw a shaky breath. “I think he’s hiding out, which is why he didn’t want to go to the hospital. I think he was running from a crime scene, which is why he was on the road. And now he’s just…”
“In your house! Slept in your living room, just a single,unlockabledoor away from my best friend! What if he killed you, Anna? What if he chopped you up and stuffed you in the walls?”
“Oh, geez.” I drag my palm over my face and ride a magic carpet into the depths of insanity for a single beat of my heart. “Pretty sure we’ve had this conversation before, except it wasyoudestined for the walls, and it wasmescreaming about making better choices.”
“Anna!”
“I don’t feel threatened by him.” I sigh. “I should. He’s muscular, and claims to be a professional fighter, which means Ireallyshould worry he’ll pummel me to death. But he just…” I let my words trail off, shaking my head.
“He just what?” She cups my face. “What?”
“He seems a little nutty, I guess. And obnoxious. Physically, I know hecouldhurt me, just as easily as Nick could hurt you. But I don’t think he would. He may be running from his own thing, which means hurting the lady whose home he’s staying in just isn’t on his mind. He’s looking for a few days under the radar?—”
“And you’re willing to give him those days?” she moans. “Just like that?”
“I…” I pause. Consider. “I dunno. I suppose I can afford to host the weird, goofy guy, since filing a police report about the accident will get me in trouble. This week already sucks, and adding charges to my rap sheet sure as hell won’t help. If I’m careful anddon’task questions about the heist thing, I can tell a judge I had no clue I was harboring a criminal.”
“Oh my God.” Mel grabs her own face, digging her fingers in just enough to create white spots on her skin. She breathes—one, two, three in—and exhales—one, two, three, out. Lowering her hands, she broadens her shoulders and blinks, blinks, blinks. “I always knew you’d crack someday.”
“What?”
“It’s Christmas week.” She spins to her fridge and whips the door open, perusing its contents and straightening out againwith a plated slice of cheesecake in her hand. “Christmas has been your downfall for too long, and now…” She rips the plastic wrapping off the cake and tosses the trash onto the counter. “Now, the beginning of the end has begun. I knew piling a dumb wedding on top of an already crappy week would be too much.” She fists the slice in her palm and bites a chunk off the end. “My intentions were pure, but the consequences were, obviously—” She takes another bite. “—catastrophic. It’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It’s completely my fault! Last year, you didn’t put up a tree. The year before, no decorations. The year before that, you went on vacation in the southern hemisphere just so you could avoid Christmas altogether, and the year before that, you sat with your dad in the hospital.” Another bite. “I allowed you all these years of avoidance, and then this year, I thoughtcool, I’ll give you something new to focus on.”
“You’re putting a whole lotta importance on the date of your wedding, baby girl.”
