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The lock clicks open. I swing the heavy door wide.

Drew reaches in and immediately grabs the pistol from the top shelf. “You better not have fucked with the calibration.”

I snort. “Because you calibrate so well? Last time you⁠—”

“Don’t start,” he cuts in, though there’s no real heat behind it.

I grab my karambit from the knife pouch and spot his knife—the one I took from his place. I hand it to him without a word. Drew takes it silently and slips it into his pocket.

Once we’re both geared up, I toss him the keys to the Mustang. He catches them, eyebrows raised.

“Since when do you let anyone touch the shitbox?”

“Since I got shot, asshole.”

He points at me with the keys. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“No.”

We head outside and the Mustang rumbles to life as Drew reverses out a little too aggressively, then floors it down the street. The deep growl fills the car.

“Take it easy,” I mutter.

“You told me to drive.”

“Not like you stole the damn thing.”

After a minute, Drew pats the dashboard almost affectionately. “You know, I’m starting to see the appeal of the old girl.”

I shake my head. Only took him twenty years.

Drew always did have trouble with the obvious. He called me his friend once. I hit him in the stomach for it.

I’m not his fucking friend.

He’s too oblivious to see it—which is exactly why he needs me around in the first place.

Ray saw it right away. From the day I brought Drew around, Ray started calling him my boy.

Drew still hasn’t noticed that I’ve never corrected Ray.

Not once.

43

CARMEN

We stayed at the lake cabin for almost a week.

Diane took time off work and became my rock. She cooked. She talked when I could bear talking. She sat with me. She took Fifi outside in the mornings and pretended not to notice when I stayed in bed staring at the wall.

But we couldn’t hide there forever.

When we got back, I went straight to a quiet little motel across town. Finn keeps trying to convince me to stay somewhere nicer, but this place works. It’s single-story, pet-friendly, and has a small courtyard with a patch of grass where Fifi can wander safely.

I know I’ll have to go home eventually. Just…not yet.

I sit on the plastic chair outside my room, watching Fifi sniff around the courtyard with great determination.