“Maybe not for fall, either. You heard the doctor,” she argues. “Six weeks on crutches.”

“There’s more to Harvard than rowing. I just need to convince my dad of that.…” He pauses, frowning, and I follow his gaze behind me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Lucky stares at Adrian, arms crossed. “Visiting a dumbass.”

“He drove me here,” I say.

“Well, he can drive himself back home,” Adrian says. “He’s a felonious deadbeat who threw a rock at my family’s business. I don’t want him here.”

Lucky snorts. “That makes two of us, bucko. Though it’s a little entertaining to see you on your back.”

“Screw you.”

“Like you screwed yourself?” Lucky says. “Guess you’ll have to wait a little longer for that Olympic medal.”

“Bet I get one before you finish vocational school, grease monkey.”

“Oh-ho-ho, that cuts!” Lucky clutches his chest dramatically. “It’s so tragic that I actually have to work for money instead of paddling a canoe for gold medals or waving at the Victory Day flotilla crowds from the deck of the largest yacht in the harbor while good ol’ Daddy Warbucks buys me Italian sports cars that I wreck.”

“Hey, the first car I totaled was German.”

“You totaled another car?” I say, stunned.

Lucky laughs darkly. “This is Wreck-It Ralph’s third accident. The second one at that exact same spot.”

“None were my fault,” Adrian assures me. “A truck veered into my lane last time, and the first one was when I was fifteen—I wasn’t even on a public road.”

“He smashed his father’s Porsche,” Lucky says. “But it doesn’t matter at Summers & Co, because a world-class surgeon and a replacement car are always on the horizon.”

Adrian groans and shifts his shoulder into a different position. “At least I didn’t have to scour junkyards for parts to rebuild a shitty motorcycle,” Adrian says as the numbers on the blood pressure section of the screen near his bed begin climbing. “I know I’m living a charmed life. I’m fucking happy about it. Zero shame. And I know that if you had the choice, you’d be sitting where I am right now too.”

“Enjoy sitting,” Lucky says. “Because I don’t think you’ll be doing much walking anytime soon.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need to throw rocks at windows for kicks. Is that how you show your lady friends a good time? Property destruction? By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask, Karras … What is it with your family and these Saint-Martins, huh? Just can’t stay away?”

What?

“I think the morphine has addled your brain,” Lucky mumbles.

“Stop it,” Evie says, dropping my hand. “Both of you!”