Too late. Sandy was already hovering near Harmony with that mothering look she didn’t know how to turn off.
But before I could reach Harmony, someone else did.
Nico.
Damn it.
He walked toward her with that lazy, controlled stride that always pissed me off. Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable. Harmony stiffened and I tried to close the distance as fast as I could.
“Harm—” he started.
“It’s Harmony,” I cut in, stepping between them. “Use her name.”
Nico lifted an eyebrow. “Easy, Thorne. Just checking she’s all right.”
“She doesn’t need you checking anything,” I barked possessively.
Harmony touched my arm lightly. “It’s fine.”
No. It wasn’t.
Nico’s gaze flicked to her. “You should stay close today.”
“I’m not your concern,” she reminded him, but her voice shook.
I heard it clear as day, which meant Nico did too.
He leaned in slightly. “Some ghosts don’t stay buried.”
Harmony’s face went the kind of white that was reserved for trauma. The kind that whispered her mother’s name.
“If you’ve got something to say,” I said, “say it to me.”
Nico studied me. Something flickered in his eyes, I couldn’t tell if it was warning or sympathy.
“Keep her close,” he repeated, as if I wasn’t going to do that anyway.
A beat passed.
Then he added, “Closer than you think.” He disappeared into the crowd before I could ask him what the hell that meant.
Harmony exhaled shakily.
I reached her instantly. “Hey.” I lifted her chin gently. “Look at me.”
Her eyes were frightened but trusting.
“What did he mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
I brushed my thumb across her cheek. “I’m worried.”
She softened just a fraction. “Can we leave?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
In the truck, she stared out the window, small and fragile in her jacket.
