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“No.” Her fingers brush my forearm. “Sometimes you look entertained.”

I should move my arm.

I don’t.

Her touch feels wrong.

Good.

Maybe wrong is exactly what I need. Maybe I need to remember who I was before Sweet started leaving coffee cups on my counter, a picture of her mama beside my bed, and trust in places I forgot I had.

Trixie leans closer. “You busy?”

“Yes.”

“With what?”

“Ruining my own life.”

She laughs. “At least you’re self-aware.”

Her hand moves higher.

I let it.

Across the room, Ghoul looks over and his smile disappears. Boogie notices too. Sweeney stops talking long enough to watch.

Good.

Let them.

Let everybody remember who I am before Sweet starts making them think there is something underneath all this worth trusting.

Trixie takes my glass, sips, and sets it back down. “You in a mood.”

“Always.”

“This one feels special.”

“It ain’t.”

“You want company?”

The answer should be easy.

It used to be.

Instead, I see Sweet in the garage saying, I slept with you because you kept giving the choice back.

My stomach turns.

“Not today.”

Trixie studies me. “That new girl got you housebroken?”

My head turns slowly.

“Careful.”