deep, if each time he did would be the last.

I looked at the television. For a guy with such a nice bit of plasma hardware, he didn’t watch a lot

of it. When he did, it was always black-and-white movies. Why have a great TV if all you can see

are shades of gray?

Someone banged on the door. My heart jumped into my throat like a jackrabbit on speed. I would

have leapt to my feet, but August was already rising, grabbing his cigarette and taking one last drag

before grinding it out. “Steady, princess.” He looked amused. “If there was trouble I’d be outside,

leading it a chase. This is good news. I can smell it.”

Now I was folding a blue sweater. I carefully focused on the sleeves while August got the door.

Please let it be him, I prayed. Please.

And then, wonder of wonders, God came through. I heard my father’s voice.

“Goddamn you, Dobrowski. Why do you have to live up three flights of stairs?” He stamped, as if

his boots were full of snow.

August sounded amused. “It’s safe up here. You look like hell. Did you—”

Clipped and final. “I didn’t get him. Where’s Dru?”

August sighed. “Safe and sound. She’s obsessed with toast, of all things. Move, so I can shut the

door.”

My eyes blurred. I let out a long breath, my shoulders sagging. My heart was thumping, a high hard

gallop of happiness. I knew what luggage felt like at the airport the moment it was picked up, the

instant familiar fingers closed on its handle.

It was Dad. He’d finally come back. He was here, and we were going to move on. Happiness filled

me until I thought I would burst, and I swiped the tears away angrily. If I broke down crying he’d

get That Look, like I was a weepy girl and he didn’t know what to do. But I couldn’t stop leaking.

Now I could admit that I’d been afraid I would be stuck here forever.

Now it was safe.

I rolled the sweater up as if I was packing it in a box. He was here. It meant we were leaving.

I couldn’t wait.

Jealousy

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

White walls. Sunlight. It smelled of lemons, of furniture polish, of fresh air. My eyes drifted open,

took this in. I stayed there, just looking, for a long while. Curiously, comfortably numb.

I heard someone breathing, and hot lightning-streak relief poured through me. Graves? Oh thank

God. Do I ever have a lot to tell you.

I rolled over slowly. My back had stiffened up; so had my arms and legs. My neck twinged. I felt

crusty and sweaty, my skin slipping against clean sheets. I was in my underwear and nothing else.

Not even the bandage on my wrist, not even a bra.