Nate’s hair swung in his face and tickled his nose. He scrubbed tears away, aching. None of that mattered. It didn’t even matter that Alden would be angry at him for avoiding the shop.
He wanted to go back. To Fran. To the familiarity of the bed on the floor and the chimes that sang in the doorway. To the comfort of their old routine and the reliability of Alden’s unpredictable moods.
Near the shop, shadowy forms gestured wildly. Shouting rang out like bells. The train crash had set off a current of fear and excitement. People who normally avoided the streets at night were out gossiping and admiring what they’d stolen.
Nate shifted his backpack, his thoughts broken and jagged like shards of glass. Going up on the rails to rescue the passengers had been stupid, but he’d do it again today if he had the choice. Reed had gotten hurt, but Nate’d saved him. And he would have kept Reed safe at the bank.
But Reed didn’t have faith in him.
Why should he?
Nate was a liar, and he was unreliable. Inconsistent. He’d done so much and tried so hard, and it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that they’d shared a real kiss—that maybe Reed really wanted him.
That maybe Reed had trusted him.
Everything would be easier if he’d never met Reed.
But not really. No matter how bad it hurt, Reed was in his blood.
Nate loved him.
And Reed would never know.
Nate hunched over in front of Alden’s shop, taking deep breaths to quell the shudder of swallowed-back tears. The windows glowed weakly from the crank-lights and candles inside.
“Nine!”
Straightening, Nate tried to place the familiar voice and name. It wasn’t until a skinny girl ducked into his line of sight that he recognized the name—and Val. She carried a messenger bag crafted out of black rubber and plastic ties.
How did I miss that before?
Val was a Courier. By street standards, she really was an old lady—an old lady Nate didn’t want to talk to tonight.
“I’m busy.” He tried to step around her.
“I can tell you’re busy. Look at you sweating. I didn’t figure you for a fiend.” Val dodged from side to side, effortlessly blocking his way.
Nate lost his balance. He flailed his arms to keep from toppling over with the momentum of his heavy load. “I’m not a fiend! And if I was, I’d be somewhere better than this—or in oblivion.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to think about anything.”
“Having a bad day, kid?” She rested her hands on her hips.
“How can you tell?” Nate asked, wiping his eyes with angry scrubs.
“You don’t look much better than you did the last time I saw you. You’re poorly. What is it?”
“I told you. What I have isn’t catching.”
Val studied him as others passed, conversations a lively hum all around them. “Is that so?”
Rattled, Nate edged toward Alden’s door. His body hurt, and his lungs ached, and he wanted badly to rest. Val let him pass this time. Watching him.
A prickle of worry made his hands go cold.
“How sick are you?” Val asked.
He stared at Alden’s door, her gaze burning at his back. Someone had followed him from Alden’s back to the old hideout. And that’s why Reed had gotten hurt. He wasn’t going to get someone else hurt. “I’m not sick.” He cleared his throat and stepped away from the door, forcing his gaze to track farther down the street. “I’m tired.”
“Are you sure about that?”
