And he sort of relaxes with a long sigh.
“You’re going to do great,” I murmur after he settles against me again.
I almost feel him smile, and then he nods like maybe he’s at least trying to believe me.
The rest of the ride home is a more comfortable kind of quiet, and we pull up into the driveway at about five thirty, still plenty on time. My mom offers him a small snack to try to calm his nerves, but he refuses, saying he’ll eat afterward. Instead, he and I head up to my room, and we just talk for a few minutes. Well, I talk; he leans against me as we sit together in my bed.
I talk about nothing consequential, really. He doesn’t need that right now. All he really needs is to relax and breathe and maybe,hopefully, laugh a little. So I start telling him about this theory I read in a blog the other day—some weird concept about the relativity and reversibility of time. When I reach over to the nightstand to dig a piece of paper out of the drawer so I can explain to him exactly what I mean, I do get a laugh out of him, and he grabs my arm and pulls me back, shaking his head and telling me that’s not necessary.
At five minutes to six, he sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed. Then he closes his eyes and takes several long breaths. When he turns to me, his eyes are uncertain but also not, and he smiles a little.
“Thank you for distracting me,” he says, and he leans in and kisses me. It’s a short, sweet kiss, but there’s some hope in it too. He pulls back and then gives me a weak shove. “Now get out of here so I can do this thing.”
I sit there staring at him for a few seconds, then I nod, steal another quick kiss, and hop to my feet. “You’re ready, and you’re going to be great,” I say as he stands up next to me.
He swallows and nods, and I give him a light hug before disappearing out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind me.
My mom’s in the kitchen downstairs, chopping veggies to add to a large pot on the stove, and she looks up at me when I pause at the bottom of the stairs. It’s only when her eyes meet mine that I realize how much tension I’m carrying in my shoulders and how tired my brain feels—like I just took three AP exams in a row after staying up all night cramming. And as usual, my mom seems to know. She smiles gently at me and motions me over.
“I’m making taco soup. Come help? The meat’s already cooking. I just need these cans opened while I finish the veggies.”
I manage a nod, and when I finally get my feet to move a few seconds later, that exhaustion seems to have traveled all the way down into my limbs. I shake it off and join my mom on theother side of the island. She pushes a can opener toward me, then resumes chopping a bell pepper as I start silently in on the cans of beans, corn, and crushed tomatoes sitting on the counter.
After everything’s added to the pot, along with a bunch of seasonings and some beef broth, my mom quickly washes her hands and then steps up to me and wraps me up in a huge, warm hug. My body trembles, and I find myself hugging her back, clinging tightly to her as the whole afternoon’s events weigh me down.
“Shh, shh, sweetie,” she says softly, and I shake my head into her. I’m not even sure what’s so suddenly wrong, but it’s all overwhelming and all too much.
“Mom...” My voice breaks, and then it all comes tumbling out, rushed and on a single breath. “God, Mom, it—it was so scary. He showed up out of nowhere and he was going to hit Nico and I-I tried to stop him but he was too strong and there was nothing I could do about it. I was so scared. I was so scared.”
For once, it seems like my mom doesn’t know what to say. She lets out a sharp breath and just hugs me to her tighter. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
We stand there together for a few minutes, until finally, she pulls back. Her hands reach up to frame my face, and she wipes away the tears on my cheeks. Then she shakes her head.
“You were so strong all afternoon for Nico,” she says.
I nod and step back so I can wipe my eyes. “I had to be. He needed me to be. But I... I...”
“He’s okay, and you’re okay,” she reassures me when I can’t find the words. “And whatever you did, it was the right thing, because Patrick is going to be heading back to prison, I’m sure of it. I’m sure of it, sweetie.”
She’s right, like she usually is. Nico is okay. His shoulder’s injured, but it will heal with time. The rest of him will heal, too. He’s got so much courage and strength, and now I know he seesall the love and support he has as well—both from me and from all the people who care about him.
He will. He’ll be okay.
I’m too tired to say anything more, but I nod again, and my mom pulls me back in for another long hug.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Nico
“Well,then,Ithinkthat’s it for now, unless you have any more questions for me?”
My heart’s thrumming in my chest. I’m not sure it’s stopped for the whole hour-long interview. I clear my throat. “No, nothing else, I think,” I say. I already asked Vera the questions I had prepared earlier, although she was so thorough during the interview that I almost didn’t even need to.
“Okay, then,” she says. “It was great to talk with you, Nico. I just have a few things to think about, and I’ll be in touch, probably within a few days.”
That sounds oddly promising.
I close my eyes and try to hold back my smile. “I really appreciate you giving me the opportunity to speak with you.”
