She looks so small. She’s short, but all her bluster and brightness made her seem big. Now she looks like a lost kid.

“I’ll be quick and quiet,” I say.

“I just want to leave,” she says, and her face crumples.

“We can go get my car and I’ll drive you home.”

I open the door to the kitchen and yell to Bodie that he needs to watch the register until Kelsye comes in for her shift.

“Where’s Carly?” he yells back.

“Supplier emergency,” I yell, and herd Carly down the alley, hoping that whoever Rosemary is, she’s hung up the phone so Bodie won’t end up talking to her.

“I’m so stupid,” Carly says when we get to the end of the alley. The sobs break through again, even though it looks like every single cell in her body is fighting to hold them back. “I don’t even have any place to go.” Blood from the scrape on her knee is soaking through her tights; bits of gravel are stuck to her skin.

I keep my copy of Adam’s key and my car key tucked in my left boot at all times, just in case. So I don’t even have to go back for my bag. We walk down Aurora Street to avoid the front of the cafe. Carly tries hard to pretend her knee isn’t hurting, but I catch her wincing when we cross Green Street and she has to step up on the curb. I grab her hand as we climb the hill on Hudson, because I don’t know what else to do, and I think about all the times I wished someone would hold my hand when I felt defeated. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but when you feel like that, sometimes having to say it out loud is the worst part.

We get to Adam’s and Carly doesn’t even look at me weird when I lean against the handrail on the front step to dig the key out of my boot. She’s stopped crying, but she keeps wiping her eyes and the smudged makeup makes her look like a cartoon bandit. She stares up at the building.

“You live here?” she says.

“I’m staying with a friend,” I say as I open the downstairs door, not knowing if it’s okay for her to know. Not knowing if I want her to. Just because she’s sad, it doesn’t mean I can trust her.

“You know Adam”—she points to her head—“with the hat?”

“Yeah,” I say, worried about what she’ll say next—what there is to Adam that she knows and I don’t.

“I think he lives on Hudson somewhere.”

“He does,” I say, turning my back as I walk up the stairs.

“Oh,” Carly whispers.

I unlock the door to the apartment and hold it open for her.