“Call or message that address. Say you want to put in an order for Indian food, to go. They’ll set up your transport to… to where you were headed before.”

Cuba. It seemed so far away now. A dream. Someone else’s dream.

“Thank you,” he told her. He reached out and put a hand on her arm. “For everything.”

She smiled, a tired smile, a 3am smile.

“How’s…” he started. “How are…”

Levi, he wanted to say. Abigail. Your mom. Earl and Emma Miller. The people who risked their lives for me.

And Bobby. Tyrone…

Melanie nodded. “They’re fine. Everyone back home is safe. The… people looking for you moved on.” Then she shook her head. “I’m not sure about the boys. Sorry.”

Rangan nodded.

There was silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally, “If I’ve put you at more risk… by being here… by coming out”

She shook her head, still smiling. “I came for…” she paused, reaching for a name. “for Angel. For Cheyenne. They’re friends of mine. But I’m glad to see you. I’m glad I could give you that.” Her eyes pointed at the slip of paper in his other hand. “I patched you up. I’m invested.”

He let his hand rise, then, from her arm, up to her neck, up to the side of her face, touching her softly.

She sighed, and placed her hand on his.

“Oh, Rangan.”

He leaned towards her, his lips parting.

And she pulled his hand away from her face.

“No,” she said, gently, clearly, her eyes searching his.

“I…” he said.

She smiled sadly at him.

“You’re hurting. You’re in shock and loss. You’re looking for something. You think I’m it, but you don’t know me.” She searched his eyes. “And to me… you’re just passing through. And I’m still going to be here.”

She squeezed his hand, held onto it for a moment, then took a half step back, and let both their hands fall before releasing his.

Rangan took a breath, his chest aching.

“I hope you get away,” Melanie said. “Be careful out there. It’s getting worse, not better.”

She moved forward then, put her arms around him in a hug, and Rangan hugged back, sinking his face into her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Thank you,” he said, “for everything.”

“Don’t make a habit of it,” she whispered.

Then she let go, looked one more time into his eyes, and turned and walked away.

Rangan waited, alone in his tiny room. He heard the heavy outer door open and close. Finally, he ventured out into the common room.

Melanie was gone. Angel was gone. Cheyenne’s eyes were closed. She was breathing deeply.

Tempest sat alone on a couch, a flask in her hand. She looked up as Rangan entered.

He gave her a tiny, nervous nod, and turned to leave.