"But?"
"But people are starting to notice. Administration is asking questions about nurses who might be, let's say, blurring professional boundaries. Especially nurses whose brothers have... affiliations."
The word hangs between us like a diagnosis no one wants to say out loud. Miguel. Always comes back to Miguel and the Coyote Fangs.
"My brother has nothing to do with the clinic."
"I know that. You know that. But perception is everything. Just... be discrete. About all your after-hours activities."
She walks away, leaving me with my med cart and the realization that everyone's watching, everyone knows, everyone's waiting for me to fuck up.
My phone buzzes.
Bad Decision:Can't stop thinking about tomorrow, Angel.
Having twentieth thoughts.
Bad Decision:Only twentieth? I'm having hundredth thoughts.
Then why aren't we canceling?
Bad Decision:Because my hundredth thought is still yes.
My stomach flips, that nauseating combination of arousal and terror that's become my baseline since I started this whatever-this-is with him.
Bad Decision:Midnight tomorrow. Wear red so I know it's you.
Why red?
Bad Decision:Because I asked. Because you'll look beautiful. Because I want to see you in the color of blood and bad decisions.
I type and delete twelve responses before settling on:
Fine. Red. One hour. No touching.
Bad Decision:Your rules, Angel. Every one of them.
Bad Decision:Until you change them.
That last line sits there like a lit match next to gasoline. Until I change them. Not if. Until.
Like he knows that every text I send is already a betrayal, that every rule I make is just another thing I'm going to break. Like he knows I'm already lost.
Izzy texts:Remember. Running shoes. And that pepper spray I gave you. And maybe a rosary because you're gonna need divine intervention when Miguel finds out.
Miguel texts:Family dinner Sunday. Don't be late.
I stare at his message, guilt flooding my system like contrast dye—highlighting every terrible decision, every betrayal, every lie I'm about to tell.
Tomorrow at midnight, I'm meeting a man from Iron Talons. A man whose brothers killed Carlos. A man my brother would murder without hesitation.
I'm wearing red.
And running shoes.
And the weight of knowing I'm about to destroy everything Miguel built to protect me, one terrible decision at a time.
Chapter twelve
