“Really?” Ethan says. “So you can sign off on the insurance forms? You know whether or not he should get a pig valve or a mechanical one? Do you know what medications Uncle Gavin is taking?”

A small voice in my head is saying He’s got a point. I ignore it. “How would I know what pills Uncle Gavin takes? Don’t you know that?”

Ethan throws up his hands in exasperation. “Yes, because I’m the responsible one, I’m in charge, I know everything.”

“Man, it must be exhausting, carrying that cross everywhere.”

His face grows hard. “Fuck off, Susannah.”

“Gladly.” My fingers are itching to do something—fix a motor, make a fist—and I can’t stay in this room anymore, arguing with my brother and trying not to look at my uncle in the hospital bed. “I need to pee,” I say, and before Ethan can respond, I open the door and stomp into the hall.

I get all the way to the elevator before I hear Caesar say behind me, “The ladies’ room is the other way.”

“I’m good,” I say, watching the elevator floor numbers count down.

“Suzie,” Caesar says, and I sigh and turn around to face him. He’s got my duffel bag over his shoulder—I’d left it in Uncle Gavin’s hospital room. “What are you doing?” he says.

“Doing what I do,” I say. “I’m going to find Peaches.”

He frowns. “Find Peaches? Why?”

“Because I have to do something.” I gesture down the hall toward my uncle’s room. “I can’t fix anything here. I can’t sit in that room and see my uncle …” I take a breath. “My uncle was having a heart attack, and when he saw me, he had time to tell me one thing. And he chose to give me a name. So I’m going to go find Peaches.” I pause. “Plus Ethan’s being a dick.”

Caesar considers responding to that. Instead, he says, “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Thank you, but you go home with Frankie. This is something I need to do. But if you could tell me where Peaches lives or hangs out, that would help.”

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. I mean, I could do it myself, but I’d need access to a laptop and it’d take longer—”

“I meant are you sure about me not coming with you.”

“Oh,” I say. “Um, yeah. I’m sure.”

He narrows his eyes slightly. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

I hold my hand to my chest. “Me?”

He shakes his head, exasperated, then hands me my duffel bag. “I’ll find you an address.”

“Tell me your cell number,” I say. “I’ll get a phone and text you in an hour.”