Me: Okay.
I pause. Start another message.
Cole, I got a call tonight.
The words sit there. My thumb hits backspace. One letter at a time. The sentence disappears.
I stare at the blank text field. The cursor blinks, waiting.
I type:
Goodnight.
Send.
My apartment building comes into view. Inside, the hallway is silent. I lock the door. Check the windows. Slide the chain into place.
My phone lights up in my hand.
Me: In.
Cole responds almost instantly. The moon emoji. He's been sending it since high school. The nights I sat on my bedroom floor with my phone in my hand and the house quiet around me.I'm up if you need me.
I sit on the edge of my bed without taking my coat off. My keys are still in my hand, the metal warming against my palm. The jacket is heavy on my shoulders, holding the outside cold against my body like it hasn't decided I'm home yet.
The moon glows on the screen.
My phone buzzes again. Not a text. A call. The screen lights up the dark room.
Unknown. 413.
Chapter 10
Dante
Marco calls at six in the morning. I pick up on the second ring.
"It's early," I say.
"You're awake."
The phone screen lights the room in blue, but the ceiling above me stays dark. I've been staring at it long enough to know the crack that runs from the vent to the light fixture.
"Papà vuole parlare degli affari. Non è una richiesta."
Dad wants to discuss business. This is not a request.
Marco's Italian lands flat and precise in my ear.
"I'll call him after practice," I say. "I have a window between noon and one."
"He wants to meet. In person. I'm driving up."
"Then I'll see you after practice."
"There's something else. This needs to happen in person."
I sit up, and the mattress shifts under me. "After practice," I say. "The coffee shop on Elm. I'll come to you."
