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I sway toward Lila, waiting for her to pull back, but she doesn’t. My hands come up, gloved fingers closing around her upper arms, crushing her to me as my mouth catches hers. I’m braced for her to stop me, but her body folds against mine instead. Her lips are warm and soft, parting in a single sigh.
That’s all it takes.
I push her back against the wall, kissing her the way I’ve never let myself. I want to swallow her up. I want her to feel my regret in the slide of my mouth and taste devotion on my tongue. She makes a sound that’s half gasp and half a moan and pulls me closer against her. Her eyes close, and everything is teeth and breath and skin.
“We’ve got to—,” she says against my mouth, her voice seeming to come from a great distance. “We’ve got to stop. We’ve got to—”
I stagger back.
The hallway seems very bright. Lila is still leaning against the wall, one hand against the plaster, like it’s holding her. Her lips are red, her face flushed. She’s looking at me with wide eyes.
I feel drunk. I am breathing so hard that I feel like I’ve been running.
“You should probably go,” she says unsteadily.
I nod, agreeing, even though leaving is the last thing I want. “But I have to talk to you. It’s about Daneca. That’s why I came. I didn’t mean—”
She gives me a nervous look. “Okay. Talk.”
“She went out with my brother. She’s been going out with him, I think.”
“Barron?” She pushes off from the wall, paces the carpet.
“Remember when I thought that you’d told her about my being a transformation worker? Well, that was him. I don’t know exactly what he told her, but he mixed up enough truth with the lies that I can’t convince her to stay away from him. I can’t convince her of anything.”
“That’s not possible. He’s not the kind of boy she would like. Daneca’s too smart for that.”
“You went out with him,” I say before I think better of it.
She gives me a scorching look. “I never said I was too smart.” Her tone makes it clear that if she were smart, she wouldn’t have just been up against the wall with my tongue in her mouth. “And I was a kid.”
“Please,” I say, “just talk to her.”
Lila sighs. “I will. Of course I will. Not for your sake either. Daneca deserves better.”
“She should have stayed with Sam.”
“We all want things that aren’t good for us.” She shakes her head. “Or things that aren’t what they seem.”
“I don’t,” I say.
She laughs. “If you say so.”
Down the hall a door opens, and we both jump. A man in jeans and a sweatshirt emerges, a stethoscope around his neck. He starts stripping off plastic gloves as he comes toward us.
“She’s doing well,” he says. “Rest is really the best thing for her now, but in another week I’d like to test her mobility with that arm. She’s going to have to move it as soon as she’s able to do so without pain.”
Lila looks at me, her eyes slightly too wide. Like she’s trying to gauge my reaction. Like there’s something for me to be reacting about.
I take a chance. “Your patient is my mother,” I say.
“Oh—I didn’t realize. You can go see her now, of course.” He reaches into his pocket and comes out with a card. He smiles, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth. “Call me if you have any questions. Or if Shandra does. Gunshot wounds can be tricky, but this was a clean one. Through and through.”
I take the card and shove it into my pocket as I start down the hallway. I’m walking fast enough that Lila would have to run to catch up.
“Cassel,” she calls, but I don’t even slow.
I push open the door. It’s a regular guest room, like the other one. Big four-poster bed, but this one has my mother in it, propped up and watching a television that’s on one of the dressers. She’s got a bandage around her arm. Her face looks pale without her usual makeup. Her hair is a mess of curls. I have never seen her like this. She looks old and frail and nothing like my indomitable mother.
