I reach over and give his shoulder a squeeze. It’s bigger than I expected, and it’s sort of weird to be touching him. Sure, I did that night I patched him up, but it wasn’t like this. There were too many competing emotions, and he was rudely bleeding everywhere to pay attention to anything else.

“We’ll find him,” I say, squeezing a bit tighter.

He snorts. “I thought you were going to work on a payment plan?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop helping you.” I’m struck with an idea. “Maybe Luther will give me a name.”

“A name?”

“Sure.” I’m already getting excited over the idea. “If he tells me who organized the job, we can go straight to the source and find out what’s up.”

“You really think this Luther guy is your friend?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve known him for years. We have our own inside jokes and everything.”

“Right …”

It’s clear he doesn’t believe me, but that’s not the worst thing. It means he cares. Which is a bit cute of him, considering we’ve only just met. “I mean it. I’m going to help you find your brother, umm …”

“Colin.”

“Yes. Colin. Colin will be found.”

He watches me, studying my face for a moment. “Why do you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because he’s not your brother.”

I finally pull my hand back. “Well, no, but I feel partially responsible for this mess.”

“Only partially.”

I crumple the granola bar wrapper in my fist and frown at him. “You’re never going to cut me a break, are you?”

“Sorry, it might take a little bit longer than my ear takes to heal.”

I eye the bandage on it, curious over how much damage I did to spurn a grudge so large. “Can I see it?”

“See … what, you want to admire your handiwork?”

“Sure.” I shrug. “I’m assuming it’s horrifically mangled, judging by the way you keep bringing it up.”

“Is there some kind of etiquette for getting over gunshot wounds I don’t know about?”

“I’d say a week tops for minor injuries.”

“Minor? You think this is minor?”

“Well, I don’t think much of anything because I haven’t seen it.”

St. Clare looks torn on whether he wants to play into this game or not, but now that I’ve asked, I do really want to see it. Like this itch of expectation and curiosity I’m not going to be rid of until I get a peek.

Finally, he makes up his mind and reaches for his ear. The dressing is taped down, and when St. Clare removes it, it takes all of my effort not to recoil.

Okay.

That looks nasty.

“What do you think?” He doesn’t even try to hold back the challenge in his voice.

“It’s … umm … cute.”

“Cute.”

“You look like an elf.”