“You know, for someone so smart, you can be really fucking stupid sometimes, Silas,” I said.
“Why are you being such a killjoy about this?” he asked. “This is our chance. It’s easy money and we’d have something to get set up with, something for us.”
“Why are you being so impulsive?” I asked. “You could die. There’s no such thing as easy money.”
Silas cocked his head to the side. “Says the grifter.”
“Yeah, says the grifter, Silas,” I said, my voice getting louder. “So you should fucking listen to me. It’s a colossally fucking stupid thing to do. Besides, I have money.”
Silas furrowed his brow, made a sound under his breath. “I don’t want your money.”
“Because it’s grifter money?” I heard my voice getting higher pitched.
“No, because I don’t want to not be able to take care of you.”
“I didn’t fucking ask you to take care of me, Silas,” I said. “I never needed taking care of before, and I sure as hell don’t need taking care of now. And what the hell are we even arguing about, anyway? I didn’t say I was moving back to West Bend, or moving someplace so you can take care of me.”
Silas stood still, clenching his jaw. His presumption that I’d move back here so he could take care of me was pissing me off.
He groaned loudly, and stomped across the room to lace up a pair of sneakers. “Damn it. I can’t think in here,” he growled. “I’m going for a fucking walk.”
“Good,” I called loudly to his departing back. “Make it a long one. Maybe you’ll come back acting like less of a fucking caveman.”
I heard the door slam behind him.
***
An hour later, it was dark and I was seething, my thoughts still churning. How the hell could Silas be so irresponsible with his life? He was putting himself in danger and then trying to act responsible with me, as if we were going to get a white picket house and be together forever. I regretted all of the thoughts that had been going through my head lately, the ones about how I could be with Silas, how we could settle down and live a normal fucking life.
Fantasies about how I could give up grifting and just be with him.
Then he did something that demonstrated he was simply impulsive, a Neanderthal at heart. And he’d recoiled when I said I had money, as if it had been tainted or something.
When I heard a knock on the door, I stormed over and pulled it open, ready to lay into Silas. “What, did you forget your key?”
But it wasn’t Silas standing at the door. It was Iver. “Trouble in paradise?” he asked.
I glared at him. “You tracked me down?”
“We need you, darling,” he said. “And you missed the meet in New York City. I wasn’t about to let you slip into the ether without knowing if you were alive or if Coker had gotten to you.”
“Coker’s an even bigger moron than we thought,” I said, momentarily forgetting about how angry I was with Silas. “He doesn’t realize anything yet.”
Iver shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes it really is like taking candy from a baby, isn’t it?”
“How did you find me here?” I asked.
Iver raised his eyebrows. “Do you even need to ask? Emir knows all.”
I exhaled heavily. “Of course he does,” I said.
“So?” Iver asked. “Are you staying here in the middle of nowhere, or are you going to rejoin us in the land of the living?”
I stood there, paralyzed by indecision. I had a team - friends - waiting for me in New York. And someone who meant something to me here. Someone who claimed to be sure of what he wanted, but acted in ways totally opposite of that.
What the hell was I going to do?
***
CHAPTER THIRTY
SILAS
When I returned to the apartment, it was dark and the lights were out. I’d gone out running, five miles, and I was sticky with sweat. I flicked on the light in the hall, and called out for Tempest, even though I knew before I walked in the door that she was gone. Her bike wasn’t parked in its spot in the driveway, and I’d have tried to convince myself that she was just out, taking her own time, except that her backpack and clothes weren’t where they’d been in my room.
I stood in the bedroom, drenched with sweat, exhausted and spent, surveying my surroundings. It was like she’d never been here.
I felt numb. This whole fucking day, from start to finish, had been like a giant ball of fucked-up-ness, ending with our stupid argument.
I was being an idiot. That whole time I was out running, I was thinking, I was being an idiot. That fight I’d done for Abel was supposed to be a one-time thing, just because it was Abel-and it had gotten me out of my debt, made sure Big Harry didn’t break my fucking legs. It was the last money I’d owed. I’d gotten arrogant, stupid, thinking I would just go make another quick ten grand doing one more fight.
I wanted something to show Tempest that I had something. That I wasn’t some losing bet. I wanted her to take a chance on us.