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What had happened to that whole thing about London being overcast? Fucking bullshit.
“Not speaking now?” Nick’s heavy footsteps moved closer. “Or did you—whoa.” He whistled. “Nice collection of bruises you got going there.”
“He went for my face,” Simon mumbled.
Not that he remembered it all that clearly. It seemed as if patches of their conversation had already been erased from his memory, rubbed out with an angry fist on a chalkboard. Others remained.
One thing he definitely couldn’t forget was that piece of paper. It was seared into his damn brain.
It could’ve been a forgery. Such things were possible. If he’d been thinking straight—thinking at all—he would’ve taken it with him and called Donovan to have him check into it. Not that Li couldn’t have done the same. She just had a vested interest in sugar-coating things for him, even if she wasn’t one to soft-pedal. But this situation was different, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think she wouldn’t do what she could to make this pill easier to swallow.
He didn’t want that. The pill was the pill regardless. He was just way fucking late finding out about it.
Thanks, Dad. One more thing to hate you for. Unless you were as in the dark about this as I was, and if so, I still hate you for being such a bastard your wife couldn’t even trust you enough to tell you she was pregnant.
“Doesn’t surprise me. Dude seems like a pussy who’d do shit like that just for spite.” Nick dropped down on the bench beside Simon and kicked out his legs. “I bet he looks even worse.”
Rather than answer, Simon lifted his hand and shook out his fingers. His knuckles were nice and bruised. “Getting old, man. He had speed on me.” Simon tipped back his head and risked never seeing the sun again. But the heat felt good even if it hurt. “When did we get old?”
“We aren’t old. Jesus. Old is when someone’s pushing your wheelchair and you’re mad because they’re going too fast.”
It made him laugh. “Christ.” He rubbed his ribs.
They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two. It wasn’t much different than the days they’d skipped school and sat on the beach, skipping rocks into the ocean to pass the time. Not needing to talk.
“Margo okay?” Simon asked when he could force out the words.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew how stuff would’ve gone down. She would’ve awakened to find him gone and gone to Lila, who would’ve gone to Nick. And Nick would’ve insisted on handling shit on his own. It was the way they’d worked for years now.
His family wasn’t blood, but it existed just the same. Sometimes it felt too tight and constricting. Other times, like today, he was just fucking grateful.
Even if he didn’t particularly deserve their concern right now.
“She’s fine. No thanks to you. Maybe leave a note or send a text or something next time, huh?” Nick knocked his shoulder into his. “Especially with what happened last fall—”
“Shit, I didn’t think.” Simon ground the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. Stupid. “I didn’t think.”
“Your usual MO.” Nick’s voice was entirely too cheerful. “Luckily for you, pretty sure she’s more worried than pissed. Though I think pissed is right behind. Probably why you were loafing around out here instead of actually going upstairs.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
But he had to say something. He should have earlier. At least texted to make sure she knew he was alive. He hadn’t realized the direction her mind would go in, but that was only because he’d been too damn focused on himself.
As usual.
He yanked out his phone and sent her a quick text to let her know he was okay and would be back soon, then turned off his phone.
Just a few more minutes, and he’d face the music. Both the music with her, and the music with himself and all he’d learned.
“I should’ve come right back.” He slipped his phone into his jeans pocket. “I could have. It’s been hours.”
“Where did you go?”
“Around.” Simon gestured vaguely. “Did a lot of walking. Don’t know where the hell I was. Thought about finding an all-night store and grabbing a bottle and just sitting on the curb like a goddamn wino.” He shook his head. “Just like the good old days, right, Nicky?”
“But you didn’t do that.”
“No. I’m not an idiot. I know if I start again, I might not stop.”
