“Don’t be stupid,” she said, even though she had been planning on doing the exact same thing. “It could be hours.”
“You know, you’re not very good at this whole nursing thing,” he said. He had rested his head back against the wall, and there was a definite smile playing on his lips.
Corinne told herself to leave, but her feet didn’t move. All that was waiting for her in her room was a cold bed and an angry Ada. She didn’t want to face either right now. She sat down gingerly beside him on the cot, half expecting a snide comment, but he didn’t say anything.
“What about your parents?” she asked. “Do they know how you spend your time?”
His smile twisted into something sadder.
“My father died when I was a kid. My mother thinks I drive a grocery truck.”
“Impressive.”
“She wants me to run my own store one day. She likes the idea of not having to buy groceries anymore.”
“You could do the grocery shopping for her, you know.”
“I tried once, but I came home with cornstarch instead of cornmeal and a carton full of broken eggs. She never trusted me with the grocery money again.”
Corinne laughed. “The first time I ever saw a carton of eggs,” she said, “I thought there were live chicks trapped inside, and I broke every one trying to free them.”
Gabriel laughed with her this time, and the cot creaked beneath them. Corinne was surprised at how comfortable she felt beside him, with her bare arm brushing against the crisp cotton of his shirt sleeve. He smelled of smoke and blood and something else that she couldn’t identify. Something sharp but earthy, like concrete after rain.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
He had turned his head and was looking at her. She met his gaze, suddenly conscious that his face was only a few inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek.
“Sure,” she said when she had caught her own breath.
“Don’t you feel guilty at all? When you swindle unsuspecting regs—people like the doctor?”
His tone was cautious, and his eyes had a kind of regretful determination about them. He obviously was expecting her to react poorly. Corinne decided to keep her temper, just for the sake of being contrary.
“Before I answer, can I ask you something?” She kept her voice even.
Gabriel nodded, not breaking from her gaze.
“Have you asked Johnny if he feels guilty? Or Jackson?”
A hint of a frown flickered across his face, and he shook his head.
“Then why are you asking me?” Corinne said.
“Because I’m trying to figure you out,” he replied.
“And because I’m a girl, so my tender, feminine feelings ought to make me feel sorry for the marks that Johnny gives us? Is that why?”
His frown deepened, and he actually seemed to be considering the point. “Maybe,” he admitted.
“You know, we don’t pull jobs for the hell of it—well, maybe once or twice—and we just take enough to keep the Cast Iron open. It’s the only way we’re safe.”
“That doesn’t really answer the question,” he said softly.
Corinne had leaned closer, without really meaning to, and her shoulder was pressed hard into his. She wondered if he noticed, and if he could feel the uneven thudding of her pulse.
“No, I don’t feel guilty,” she said at last. “I’m not a nice person. Ada is, but not me, so the sooner you wrap your head around that, the better. I don’t like people expecting me to be something I’m not.”
His eyes searched her face for a few seconds. She desperately wanted to read his expression, but he didn’t give anything away.
“Okay,” he said, in a frustratingly neutral tone.
He faced forward again, and after a moment of studying his profile, willing it to give up his thoughts, Corinne did too.
“Why did you come here, anyway?” she asked. “Surely a job as a grocer would have been less complicated.”
He was quiet for a while, and she wondered if she’d somehow offended him, or if he had just fallen asleep. She stole a quick glance. He was staring straight ahead, a slight crease in his forehead.
“There are things I want to accomplish,” he said at last. “And being a grocer wasn’t going to help me accomplish them.”
Corinne nodded, knowing there was no use in pressing for details. Secrets were a dime a dozen around the Cast Iron. They fell into a peaceful silence. She let her eyes close, thinking that she needed to stand up and leave.
She woke up what must have been hours later, still sitting beside him with her head rested on his shoulder and the weight of his head on hers. Their hands on the bed were touching, just slightly. Hers was stiff with cold, but his was warm. After a long while, she tried to ease off the bed without waking him, but he was a light sleeper and woke with her first movement. His right hand moved toward his back, toward his gun, before he remembered where he was.
Corinne didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t want to leave without saying anything.