I snort. “My boss said she’s going to get my parents’ file so I can see for myself whether there were signs of them being on heroin.”
He gives me a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I ask, taking another bite.
“Your conviction, right or wrong, is the bedrock of your resilience, Lina. You’ve done everything and excelled in school, college, and life because you believed your parents were falsely accused. But what if they did crash because they were high? Can you handle that truth? Can you say it wouldn’t kick your legs out from under you?”
I stare down at my burger, “I don’t know. But I need to find out, Howie,” I murmur, looking back up into his blue eyes.
“Sometimes, believing in something helps us cope, and I don’t want you to spiral if what you’ve believed turns out to be wrong.”
“I can’t possibly sink any lower,” I say, a bitter huff escaping me.
“Oh, you’d be surprised, kid. You think you’re at rock bottom, but from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re climbing your way up and out.”
NINETEEN
Just as I’mlocking up after the last customer has left, my phone buzzes in my jeans back pocket. I grimace, having had enough late-night calls lately.
Taking it out, I glance at the screen. To my relief, it’s not the police again or a hospital, but Bernie, the owner of the bar where Roberto frequently nurtures his alcohol problem.
Am I going to hell for hoping he is calling to tell me Roberto has drunk himself to death?
I answer the call. “Bernie,” I greet. “What’s up?”
“Roberto is causing trouble again,” he states, and I curse quietly.
“What happened?” I ask, heading to the back of the bar and my locker.
“He got blackout drunk again and started making a scene outside the bar. I tried to get him back inside, but he wouldn’t listen. Someone called the cops, and now they’re threatening to take him in. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep them at bay, Carolina.”
“On my way,” I respond, hanging up.
“Cindy!” I call out toward Donny’s office, where she’s been hiding out all night. “Could you take care of closing, please? There’s an emergency,” I say, pulling on my jacket.
“Again? All right, but you owe me twice now,” she says.
I roll my eyes but manage to shout a quick “Thanks!” before heading out through the bar’s back door.
Roberto could rot in the drunk tank forever for all I care, but his arrest could cause serious complications. Chiara might end up in foster care, and my chances of getting her back would be slim to non-existent. My situation hasn’t improved since the last time they rejected me.
Josh fiddleswith the radio while I drive through Harlem, trying to find a station that doesn’t play country music. He only manages to make it worse.
“Stop that shit. Are you nervous?” I quickly glance at him before returning my focus to the road.
“No. It just feels too quiet, I guess,” he responds.
I nod. Tonight is unusually calm. During our recent late shifts, we’ve made it a point to request the patrols near or in Harlem. Neither of us would admit it, but ever since we sawhow Carolina lived, we both felt a need to ensure the streets around her house were secure. The fact that I’m driving around her neighborhood again confirms what I’ve desperately tried to deny.
I care about this girl.
I’m not entirely sure in which way yet, but I care enough to want to personally ensure her safety at night. That’s more than I’ve ever felt for any woman except Sophia.
Fuck.
As I think about this fuck-up, I notice movement to my right. Turning to see what it is, I spot a black ponytail swinging as a girl sprints down the street.
“Is that…” Josh starts, seeing the same thing.
