Page 67 of Never Forget

Neither of us looks at the other or says anything for a long time. I’m still trying to make sense of what’s happening, fitting the Scott I know with the person I’m currently helping to commit a crime. Beside me, he bounces one knee nervously as he stares out the window.

I open my mouth to speak, to say what, I don’t know. I don’t get a chance to say anything before I’m cut off by Scott’s phone buzzing. He startles and fumbles to get the phone out of his pocket, eyes flicking over the screen. His brow furrows before he curses under his breath.

“What?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead he leans in to the driver, holding up his phone screen to show he paid more than the expected fare. “Can you let us out at the next intersection instead?”

The driver shrugs. “Sure thing, boss.”

He makes a lane change. The car barely rolls to a stop before Scott is pushing his door open and pulling me out behind him. Once I’m safely deposited on the wet sidewalk, he pulls the black ball cap from his head and settles it onto mine, tugging the brim lower until it shadows my face.

“There,” he says softly, reaching for my hand again.

“Scott…”

“Come on.”

Scott leads me to a subway entrance tucked between a deli and souvenir shop, the familiar green globe lamps marking the stairs descending beneath the city. The noise of Manhattan fades with every step underground, replaced by the rumble of trains below and the echo of thousands of hurried footsteps bouncing off dingy white tile walls.

Scott stops at a row of turnstiles, tapping his phone against a terminal set up for payment. He gestures for me to go through first before tapping again for himself. Beyond the turnstiles, we follow overhead signs until we reach the downtown platform.

People are everywhere. Businessmen with briefcases speaking into their Bluetooth earpieces. Tourists clutching shopping bags. Students of all ages wearing backpacks.

It’s been years since I took the subway. When the band first got signed and we spent our first weeks in the city, it felt like a theme park ride. The novelty of it, and of the rush of the city itself, hasn’t worn off. At first, I feel overly conscious of hiding my face, but nobody pays us any attention. Everyone seems too busy with their own lives and destinations to notice just another guy.

No one.

A gust of stale air rushes through the tunnel a moment before the train arrives, brakes screeching against steel rails. The doors slide open, and everyone surges forward as one. Scott keeps one hand wrapped around mine as we flow with the crowd inside.

It’s a pretty busy car. We don’t bother looking for seats. Instead, Scott guides me to the back, into a corner close to the connecting doors between cars. He positions himself in front of me, so I’m mostly hidden from view and blocked from being jostled. One arm braced against the wall over my shoulder as strangers crowd in around us, pressing his body into mine. I can’t say I mind, though not even his proximity can distract me from my desperation to know what is happening.

Scott meets my eyes, reading my need clear as day. He tilts the brim of my hat back and bends his head down so his mouth is practically touching my ear, sending involuntary goosebumps down my body.

“I know you have questions,” he says, quietly enough that only I can hear. “But for now, I just need you to follow my instructions and go with it, okay?”

I study his face. Whatever he’s doing, I’ve never seen him like this. This man ran straight into a mob towards a man with a knife without hesitation. But right now… he’s worried. Scared even.

“Okay,” I whisper, nodding. His shoulders visibly relax.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything later.” The corner of his mouth twitches into something that almost resembles his usual smirk. “And I’ll spend the rest of the night making it up to you.”

“Oh really?”

A real smile spreads over his lips. It’s full of promise that makes my heart beat harder and my pants tighten. “Oh baby, I’ll get down on all fours and bark like a dog if that’s what it takes.”

The fire in his eyes is a spark of relief to my senses. A small flare of normalcy. Reassurance that we can get back to whatever we are. That’s a future Naz problem.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

EIGHTEEN

SCOTT

The train disappears behind us with a rumble as Naz and I climb the stairs back to street level.

I check my phone again when we make our way back to street level, waiting for a message to come through. I’m not sure what to do other than wait for the next instruction since they changed the game plan last minute. It feels like we’re going on a wild goose chase, but it’s not like I have a choice but to follow through at this point.

I’m trained to stay calm in every situation, but that doesn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder every other minute, half expecting to recognize someone or see if we’re being followed. So far there’s been nothing, but that doesn’t do much to settle my nerves.