I sigh. “I’m sure they paid him well.”
He starts to say something, stops, and instead reaches for my neck, hand hovering an inch from my skin. “Can I?”
He is heat even without contact, a gravitational force. My nerve endings cluster below his palm. If I were smart, I’d say no.
So, of course, I nod.
His hand is light, fingers skimming the puncture like he can’t believe it’s there. Except every pass underlines its existence. Proof that, yep, Greg did that. The same Greg who used to plan adventures into abandoned towers, and taught me to love rooftops in the first place.
“Who paid him?” asks Niles quietly.
“Brinkers. The kids from the market. You remember the girl with the knife? They want something from Mom.”
His hand goes still. “Your mom.”
I grin, except my lips don’t want to twist the right way. “Yeah. Apparently, she’s alive—and a god, by the way—and they need her for—their home or something.” Which is beside the point. All of this is beside the point, which is, “They fed Greg a line, and so he dosed this power tech before he dosed me, and now the tech’s probably lying unconscious somewhere, because I’ll bet no one shot him with Clarity to wake him up.”
Niles blanks out.
“That’s how the Brinkers woke me,” I say. “It’s an antidoser. It’s supposed to be regulated, or at least it was when Greg—” Was dealing, I don’t say, because there’s no way in hell I’m having that conversation.
Niles is still a blank slate. My explanation must suck. I don’t know that I care. My head hums and my blood buzzes, and I’m losing time.
“I have to go.”
“Now?” Niles glances at the kitchen’s digiclock. “It’s three thirty.”
“I told you, I have to make sure the power tech isn’t dead.”
That my cousin didn’t kill someone. That he hasn’t become Mom.
I remove Niles’s hand from my neck and don’t—do not—wrap my fingers through his. Instead, I squeeze between him and the couch into cold open space.
The floor tips into the walls. I lock my knees, reach for the back of Niles’s chair—and get him instead. His arm wraps my waist. Solid, bare. I turn, which puts us chest to chest, his hand splayed on my back. “Seriously, Niles—”
“I’ll find him,” he says. “Give me a description and tell me where. It shouldn’t be hard—if he’s dosed he’s probably still down.”
What?
Niles would—what?
I mouth the word but can’t get it out. Nothing sticks. And it gets worse the more his lips quirk, skirting a smile, his smile. The real one, hidden and hinted and all the way to his eyes.
He winks. “Trust me, I’m good at this shit.”
“No, you can’t go and—you don’t even know him! Hell, I don’t even know him.”
He shrugs. “Well, there you go.”
“That’s not—don’t be stupid!”
His grin hits, full tilt, both arms squeezing tight as he leans back and lifts me.
My toes hang, dangle. I lay anchored to his chest.
“But it’s fun being stupid,” he says.
I clutch his shoulders. The room swishes with my feet, but his face keeps focus. Cheeks wide with his warm mouth, under laugh-scrunched eyes.
How could traipsing through the city in the dark make anyone cheerful?
“Why?” I ask.
“I told you.”
“Niles.”
“We’re both from the neighborhood. Gotta stick together.”
“Niles.”
He grows serious. “I’m sober, you’re not. You can’t even stand without weaving—not that that’s stopped you.” He straightens, his hold relaxing. I slide, feet reclaiming the floor by inches, heart scattering beats against his chest. His smile scatters with them, catching on a whisper. “And maybe I’m only so much of an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole,” I say.
“Yeah.” Unassured, disbelieving, fingers snagged in my shirt even as he slides back to give me space. His lips snag, too—pale, full, and catching the light. Soaking it in. “Do you want to crash here? Your dad really did a number on—”
I lean forward to see if he tastes like his smile. He freezes, then pulls back just as my lips reach his. Almost jerks.
The air tastes acidic, empty. His arms disentangle, and I’m alone.
So neighbors who stick will kick out dads and search for strangers, but they don’t kiss.
Or else they don’t kiss me.
“It’s late,” he says.
I hug my chest and feel his. “And I thought this day couldn’t get worse.”
He flinches. “Kit—”
“Skip it.” I walk toward the door without tripping. Mostly. Amazing what a steel ball in your gut will do.
Niles reappears my side. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have given you that sweet—”
“Find the technician and we’ll call it even. Here.” I stop and dig in my pocket for my transaction card. “I’ll give you the reds for his board.”
Not like Dad needs them, he can stay with Annie.
The card isn’t in my right pocket, so I try my left. My back pockets, the low side one.
Then I try them all again.
And again.
“What’s wrong?” Niles asks.
I smile. A real smile, that slips into a laugh. Then I’m doubled over, giggling, my chest ripping apart.