We pull into the parking lot of Dad’s facility and Nick turns off the truck.

“Thanks for bringing me here. And thanks for . . . um . . . last night?” I wince. “I mean, you were right.”

Nick looks out the window, then unbuckles his seat belt.

“Anyway,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I’ll find a ride back. You don’t have to wait.”

Nick opens his door and steps out of the car.

“Um,” I say, opening my door. “What are you doing?”

Nick shrugs. “I’m going in.”

I shake my head. “You really, really don’t have to do that.”

And yet, Nick Velez, unpredictable and confusing as always, walks with me to the front door and waits with me as I buzz in.

“This might be weird,” I say, turning to him.

He looks at me, his brown eyes laser focused on mine. “I’m gonna stay with you,” he says, and then he grabs my hand.

At this point we’ve kissed and shared a bed, but nothing—nothing—has been close to the total-system shock of Nick holding my hand. It’s like I can feel his heart beating against my palm.

The door clicks open and we walk in together. Tracey looks up from the front desk and smiles her typical, reassuring smile, but her eyes widen as she takes in Nick, and Nick’s hand in mine.

I can almost see her tell herself to be professional, and she plasters on a generic smile. “I’m so sorry I bothered you while you were gone.”

“We were headed back anyway,” Nick says. “I’m Nick, by the way.”

He lets go of my hand to shake Tracey’s, and I’d be dreading the conversation she’s gonna have with me later if I weren’t so worried about my dad.

“Tracey,” she says with a smile in his direction, and then she turns to me. “So your dad’s fine, as always, but I know you want me to keep you updated—”

“I do.” I nod.

“Okay. So, there was a lot of yelling. He threatened to hit Ralph because he thinks Ralph broke his television.”

I groan. “Okay. Um. I’m going to go talk to him. And I’m sorry he’s so confused, and so angry, and—”

Tracey shakes her head, her real smile back on her face. “Hey. That’s literally why he’s here, okay? You don’t need to apologize for it.”

I give her a grateful smile and start walking toward Dad’s room, Nick trailing behind me.

“This is a nice place,” Nick says, looking around as we walk down the all-beige, all-the-time hallway.

I look over my shoulder at him. “Did you think I put my dad in a shithole?”

“No,” he says, his long legs taking a couple of steps to catch up to me. “It’s just, when you picture a place like this in your head, you think of it as being clinical. Hospital beds and tile. I bet your dad’s really happy here.”

We stop in front of Dad’s door and I give Nick a tiny smile. “Yeah. Well. This is where pretty much all the money I make goes, so it had better be nice. But what am I supposed to do? Put my dad in a dump and spend my leftover money on a cruise?”