“I wasn’t going to be alone,” I start. But Logan squeezes my hip. I stop talking.

My dad’s brow furrows. “What exactly do you mean, Emily?” he asks.

“I—” I stop, not knowing how to continue. “I—” I close my mouth again. “Never mind,” I mutter.

“New York is a dangerous place, Em,” Trip says. He’s still smiling. Like a used car salesman. Or a shark, right before it takes a big bite out of an unsuspecting swimmer. He looks at Logan as though he’s confirmation of the danger in the city. “You never know what kind of people you might run into.”

I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and count to ten.

Logan is quiet. A little too quiet. He’s strung tighter than my guitar strings. “You okay?” I ask. I sign while I talk.

Trip smacks himself in the forehead with his open palm. “Oh my God,” he cries. “I completely forgot about your impairment!” He says the next few words, punctuating each one with a pause. “Do. You. Need. For. Us. To. Talk. Slowly?”

“I can keep up,” Logan says. “But thank you for the offer.”

“Just. Let. Us. Know. If. We. Need. To. Talk. Slower.” Trip smiles, and I want to punch him in the face.

Logan lifts his head, a smile I know he doesn’t feel tilting the corners of his lips. “Thanks.”

“Dad,” I begin. “Trip can’t stay here.”

Dad looks at Trip, and the mock confusion on each of their faces mirrors the other. “Why not?” Trip asks.

Dad points toward the open bedroom door. “You have two bedrooms. And plenty of space.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You, yourself, told me that you two were still friends when you came home. Is that not the case?”

He’s playing dumb. I know my father. And I know when he does and does not understand something. He understands all too well. “Trip’s my ex-boyfriend, Dad. You don’t think that will be a little bit awkward?”

Dad waves a breezy hand in the air. “It doesn’t have to be. You two can come and go as you please. And I’ll feel better about being on the other side of the country if he’s here with you.”

“He can’t stay here.” I’m putting my foot down. I won’t allow this to happen. “I’ll leave, Dad. I swear to God, if you try to make me do this, I’ll disappear again.”

Dad sits back, looking smug. “You know, I got a call from Matt’s doctor the other day.” Dad stares direct at Logan. “They said your brother is ready for phase two of the treatment. And they asked if I would be providing the funds.”

Logan’s arm falls from around my waist, and he lumbers to his feet very slowly. He looks down at me and presses a finger to my lips. His finger trembles. “Mr. Madison,” he says. He nods at my dad, and then at my mom. “Mrs. Madison. It was wonderful to meet you. I will say good-bye now.” He starts toward the door. “And as far as the treatment is concerned, if Emily’s freedom is the price, you can take your money and shove it up your ass.” He stops at the door. I’m latched onto his arm like a Velcro monkey.

“Please don’t walk out,” I beg. “Not like this. I can fix this.”

He peels me off of his arm. “I know you can.” He kisses my forehead, his lips lingering there as he breathes in deeply, his eyes closed. Then he pushes me back from him. “I need to go,” he says. His voice is hoarse. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’m going to deal with this, and then I’ll come find you. I promise.”

He nods. Then he steps out the door and closes it softly behind him. There’s a thud on the other side of the wall and I know Logan waited until he got outside to smash something.

“Good riddance,” Trip says, brushing his hands together like he’s wiping dust from them.

Logan

I plump a woman’s breast in my hand, imagining how the tattoo she wants across the top of it will sag in twenty years. “I don’t think this is the best place,” I say. I’m wearing gloves, and I’m behind the curtain at the back of the shop, which is where all the private tattoos are done. I tried to talk Paul, my oldest brother, into doing this one, but he didn’t have time. His daughter, Hayley, is with a sitter, and he has to go and pick her up. I volunteered to go instead, but he laughed, shook his head, and walked out.

I plump the woman’s breast again. I made her put pasties over her ni**les before I would even touch her. So it’s not like this is a sexual thing. For me. It is for her, apparently since she reaches for my belt buckle, and I brush her hands away, lifting my knee to block her. I don’t need this. I pass her shirt to her. “Put this on, please.”

Her lower lip juts out in an expression she probably thinks is sexy. I just think it’s pathetic. “You used to be so much more fun,” she pouts.

Yeah, back then I wasn’t in love with a woman I couldn’t have.

I’m still smarting over her father’s plan to move Trip in with her. The ass**le hadn’t even introduced himself to me. All he did was patronize me as though I’m stupid.

Are. You. An. Ass? Yes. You. Are. An. Ass.

But he is an ass who is now living with my girl.

The curtain shakes. It’s how people ask me for permission to enter in the private area of the shop. I call out, “Come on back.” Emily pops her head around the curtain. You busy? she asks, signing to me. I like it when she does that.