Iggy’s voice cut through the static in my head—firm, steady, a lifeline thrown across a raging sea. The fist around my throat loosened. Air returned. My pulse slowed from frantic to survivable. My hand fell from my neck. When I looked up, Iggy was smiling like nothing had happened, like I hadn’t almost cracked open in the middle of a family restaurant. Like he wasn’t patching himself together under his own set of secrets, violating the honesty rehab had drilled into us, just as I was.
Everyone turned towards him.
“I’ve never been to Amsterdam,” he said. “So he offered to show me around. Canals, museums, ride some bikes, all that touristy shit.”
“Oh!” Trix said. “Well, come with us, then. See the wild side.”
“I’m not really the party type,” Iggy mumbled.
A snort escaped me before I could stop it, which I tried to cover with a cough. Iggy’s green eyes glinted as he glanced over. “Yeah, we’re sticking to the PG route,” I said. “But you guys go have fun.”
Thump opened his mouth, probably to argue, but judging by the way he jolted, someone—Ghost, almost definitely—kicked him under the table. Subtlety had never been Thump’s strong suit, and clearly, his memory was fucked.
Trix looked between Iggy and me, nodding like she’d just solved some grand mystery. Whatever she imagined was probably wrong, but as long as nothing real slipped through the cracks, she could think whatever she wanted.
“Well then, you two cool cats enjoy,” she said, winking and waggling her eyebrows.
After we’d eaten ourselves stupid, everyone stood andfiltered towards the exit. I’d barely stepped outside when Riff caught my arm and pulled me aside.
“You good?” he asked quietly. “Because I can come with?—”
“Riff,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re not my babysitter.”
“I know, I just?—”
“And you can’t protect me from everything,” I added. “Go have fun. Really. Don’t worry about me.”
I glanced over at Iggy. Trix was twirling a lock of his pink hair, and he was chatting like nothing in the world was wrong. When he noticed me looking, he shot me a grin and held up a finger, mouthing, “Be right there.”
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Riff said, dragging my attention back. “And I’m guessing it’s... more than just hanging out. But I’m glad he’s here if he can make you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Smile.” He poked my cheek, and I batted his hand away with a laugh. “He’s a good dude if he can make you less of a grumpy asshole.”
“Fuck you.”
We shoved each other, devolving into a headlock-and-elbows mess until a pair of Doc Martens appeared in my periphery. I looked up to find Iggy grinning down at us.
“So uncivilised,” he said with a dramatic shake of his head.
“You watch out for my man,” Riff told him, jabbing a finger between us. “And stay out of trouble.”
It was meant as a joke, but there was weight under it.
“Sure, Dad,” Iggy said, waving him off.
“It’s Daddy, actually,” Riff shot back. “If you’re feeling nasty.”
I grimaced. “Ew. Get lost.”
Iggy cackled, and as Riff walked off, he called, “Bye, Daddy!”
A few pedestrians stared. One woman actually crossed herself. “You’re a menace,” I muttered.
“Ah, but you still like me.” He bumped my shoulder as we started down the street with no real plan.
“So, what’s the plan, Iggy Pop? Wander around until we drop?”
