“Why don’t you?” he throws right back.
“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I grumble. Though from the smile that splits his face wide open, he knows I don’t mean it. “If I’d known this is what you were like, I wouldn’t have gone looking for you.”
He scoffs once, twice, and then harder a third time.
“Yes you would’ve. I told you, you’re too nosy. You know curiosity killed the cat?”
“I’m more of a dog person myself.”
“That’s probably why Duffy likes you, then,” Rory says, strolling back in with a disposable paper cup that hassteam rising out of it. She sets it on the table next to my bed, then wheels it over so I can reach, and dumps packets of sugar and cream next to it. “He’s loyal like a dog and just as smart as one of those Chihuahuas.”
I hurry to take a sip before I even try to engage with these two, but Duffy has a different idea. He totally ignores his sister and just keeps badgering me. And even with nausea still swirling in my gut, since I haven’t eaten in God knows how long, and I know coffee on an empty stomach is asking for trouble, I listen intently.
“You know you’re a great lookout. You don’t need another job.” He sounds so urgent, I have to send him a confused frown over the cup. “Besides, the boss told us how you’re actually loaded, so what gives?”
I focus on the taste of the coffee, on how it’s perfectly warm since italmostburns my tongue but doesn’t really go that far, and look right down at Maggie.
I can’t figure out if I hate or really appreciate that they don’t say anything and just wait for me to talk.
“He’s a tattletale,” is all I can come up with. I’m not about to spill my guts about one of my many mental-health issues. Being scared of running out of money isn’t abadthing, and like that therapist told me when I was little, with my background it makes sense, and I shouldn’t be ashamed of how I cope.
Rory snorts, then pulls a chair between our beds. The look she sends me is positively the most patronizing thing I’ve seen in my life.
“Isn’t there a famous phrase from all those mafia movies and TV shows about snitches getting stitches?” she asks the room at large.
“I think so,” Duffy mumbles.
“In any case.” She pauses to shrug and manages to look semi human-like. “It’s true, and yes, Eian did tell us some of what he learned about you when he asked Duffy about the... circumstances of your meeting.”
“And what did you tell him?” I direct the question at Duffy.
His shrug is much more natural than Rory’s.
“Just how I felt bad that you’d left all your groceries on the street because that dumbass was running from me, and that you looked scared at first, but then you settled into the job like a pro.”
I hum thoughtfully at that.
I doubt that’s all Duffy told him, but what good would it do to press him for more details?
“He clearly knew more than enough without your input.” I can’t hide the bitterness. After Eian left, I felt so fucking stupid and just plain embarrassed by how I reacted to him.
When he’s not around, he’s an easy guy to resist, but the second he’s near, I seem to lose all my brain cells, and it’s definitely not because he’s scary.
Of course I was scared while he was here too, but more because of the effect he was having on me rather than anything he said. That changed pretty quickly the second he left and Rory came back in with Mac.
Now that I’ve had some time to think... now that I know Maggie and I are together and safe... now I can admit that Duffy was right, and Eian was right.
I was stupid and impulsive, and I’m damned lucky they saved me. I’m lucky Duffy woke up from his damn coma last week and was able to ask them to check on me.
Lucky. That’s not a word I’ve associated with myself in a long time. It’s insane that I feel that way now that I pretty much owe my life to the most feared mobster in the city.
Even if they were right, I won’t accept them blaming my need to know things, though. I was impulsive, and I should’ve found another way to find out if Duffy was all right, but my need toknowis the one thing that’s always been mine, that has always pushed me forward. It’s turned me into the man I am today, and I’ll never apologize for it, even if they call me nosy for the rest of my life.
“Eian wants us to pick up your things from your apartment,” Rory blurts out awkwardly, after the long stretch ofsilence, and again I can tell she’s trying to sound friendly—it’s not working. I frown at her and shake my head.
“I’m pretty sure I have everything I need. It’s not like I’m gonna stay here much longer, right? A week or two more and I’ll be home.”
Duffy again reacts in that weird way that sounds like his throat and mouth suddenly forgot how to work properly.
