IZZY
Leone’s car rolls up less than five minutes later.
He rolls down a window and grins at me from the driver’s seat. “Somebody order an Uber?”
Any other moment, I would have laughed. Leone has a way with jokes and comedic timing—unlike my asshole of a baby daddy.
I almost don’t get in.
Almost.
But the memory of the blond man at the bar, the way he watched me like he was measuring something invisible, still crawls under my skin.
So when Leone opens the passenger door and gestures, I get in without arguing.
“Hey there,” he says cheerfully as he slides behind the wheel. “If you’re in the mood for a silent ride, I’m afraid you’re shit out of luck. But don’t worry. I got my license fair and square. Only had to bribe the guy at the DMV a little bit.”
That drags a weak smile out of me. “Thanks.”
Leone looks nothing like the silent, intimidating shadow he usually plays behind Nico. Up close, he has an easy grin and akind of restless energy, like someone who learned early that if you laugh first, the world hits softer.
Usually that kind of personality would put me at ease.
Tonight it just makes me tired.
He starts the car and pulls away from the curb.
“So,” he says lightly, “I take it my boss was kind of a dick?”
I stare out the window. “That’s one way to put it.”
The city slides past outside—streetlights, closed storefronts, the occasional late-night couple laughing too loudly on the sidewalk. The normal world. The one I’ve been trying very hard to stay in.
For a while, Leone doesn’t say anything.
Then he sighs. “Real mad at him, huh?”
“That obvious?”
“Only to people with eyes.”
I huff quietly and lean my head against the window.
Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Mad is simple. Clean.
What I feel about Nico is something messier. Something that has been sitting in my chest for seven years, refusing to go away no matter how many times I tried to convince myself that night meant nothing.
“He’s impossible,” I mutter.
Leone chuckles under his breath. “You’re not wrong.”
The car stops at a light. Red spills across the windshield like warning paint.
“But,” he adds after a moment, “he’s also not what you think.”
I glance at him. “Oh? Enlighten me.”
