I was still pacing when Hudson finally walked through the waiting room doors of St. Cyprian Hospital. His face and coveralls were splashed with grease and motor oil, but I didn't hesitate to fly into his arms.

"¿Estás bien?"

"I'm fine, it's Auntie. I came home and she was unconscious. She woke up in the ambulance, and she was confused. I haven't seen her since we got here."

Hudson placed his hands on my shoulders. "She woke up. That's good news."

I swallowed. "Hudson, I can't lose Trina like I lost my mom. Trina can't die, she can't—"

He cupped my face in warm, rough hands, wiping the tears that were falling. "Mi querida, no matter what happens to your aunt, you will never be alone. I promise."

"Aaliyah? Mr. Espinosa?" Dr. Stetter waited off to the side, clipboard in hand. Wizened by crow's feet, her clear blue eyes and gentle features brought a warmth to her demeanor that so many doctors I met seemed to be missing. Her white coat was as clean and crisp as the blue scrubs underneath. Brown hair was pulled from her face by bright, youthful clips. As Trina's friend and coworker, I trusted her when she told me she would do everything in her power to help.

Dr. Stetter smiled. "Katrina can see you now."

***

It was a relief to see my aunt sitting up in bed. Her hospital gown, and the IV in her wrist, had demoted her from doctor to patient. Her hair was a mess and she looked exhausted, but her eyes lit when we entered the room.

Hudson walked to the bed, kissing his fiancé's forehead. "Mi amor—how are you feeling?"

"Alive—thanks to my hero." Trina reached across the bed and squeezed my hand. "Lay it on me, Doc. How long do I have to live?"

"Katrina, you aren't going anywhere anytime soon." Dr. S lifted her clipboard, flashing her easy smile across the room. "But you do need rest. You got dizzy and fell while you were washing dishes. You hit your head on the sink, which is probably how you got the concussion. And your blood pressure's slightly elevated, so we're keeping you overnight. As for the hyperemesis gravidarum—we'll give you medication that's safe for the baby."

Trina's eyes were as large as dinner plates. "Abby, you're joking."

"I'm not joking, Trina. Congratulations, you're pregnant."

Hudson gave me a ride home, then returned to the hospital to stay with Trina. Cheek pressed to the cold glass window, I watched the unyielding darkness through tired, unseeing eyes. Emotions are exhausting. No wonder we try so hard to feel numb.

I closed the door to his truck; Hudson lowered the passenger window. "No te metas en problemas. Pero, I'm here if you do. I'll call soon, to check in."

"I'll be good, lo prometo." I waved, then walked inside the foyer, where I was swallowed by silence and shadows. The floorboards creaked behind me as I was hanging my jacket. Tyler stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. Dried blood was caked under his nose and splashed down the neck of his hoodie.

"Hey." Tyler jammed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "Thanks for texting me back."

"I almost didn't." I lifted his chain from my neck and walked forward. "Safe and sound," I said, handing it over.

"Looks good on you."

"I know." I watched him slip the chain over his head. "I'm gonna have to re-do those butterfly stitches. Are you okay?"

"Are you?"

I tugged his sleeve as I passed. "Come on."

Tyler followed me down the hall to the kitchen. I turned on the lights, wincing at the harrowing memory of finding Trina passed out on the floor. Swallowing my fears, I picked my way through the mess to the island. Everything was covered in powder from the fire extinguisher, there was water all over the floor, and the charred pot of spaghetti on the stove had the kitchen smelling like an ashtray.

After a night of chaos, the silence was just as exhausting. "Alexa, play the top hits." I ran the rag under warm water, then took a seat next to Tyler at the kitchen table. He sat backwards in his chair, accepting the rag with a frown.

"What happened? Looks like my kitchen after one of mom and dad's blowouts."

"I barely even remember what went down. It all happened so fast." I folded one leg beneath me. "Katrina's in the hospital. She's okay, they're just keeping her overnight as a precaution. She's pregnant."

"I'm gonna be an uncle? Me?" Tyler grinned wide. "I'm gonna spoil the shit outta that kid."

I almost cried. Not once had I thought about the baby. As usual, I was only thinking of myself.

"Hey." Tyler cuffed my chin with gentle fingers. "You had a rough night. I'm sorry I wasn't there. Why don't I stay, help you clean up?"

A breeze ruffled the curtains at the open kitchen window. Shadows from car headlights washed across the walls; I rubbed my arms, shivering from the goosebumps on my skin as I once again thought about town cars and gangsters.

I didn't want to be alone tonight.

"Aaliyah." Tyler's gentle voice guided my gaze back to his. "Something's up with you. What's going on? Is it my breath?"

Mine was hitching in my chest. "Your dad is stealing from you," I whispered.

"How do you know?" he said in a small, quiet voice.

I ran through every soul-crushing moment, starting with the night I visited Tyler at the Maison. "Q's pretty tough. When her dad went to Afghanistan, she wanted to understand what it would be like, so she watched these war documentaries that were pretty graphic. Even Q was shaken up. She's scared—that might be why she acts like she hates you."

"It's not an act." Tyler leaned forward and placed his hand on my knee. It felt like heaven, if heaven was warm and large and comforting... "That's why you were so upset that night. I should've known—"

"It's not your fault. And I'm really sorry. I should've told you sooner."

"I'm not mad at you and Quinn, Aaliyah. You didn't get hurt, that's what's important." Tyler exhaled long and hard, studying the darkness beyond the kitchen window. "The accident never happened, which means pops straight up lied to me. He put you and Quinn in danger—it's no one's fault but his " Brows furrowed, his somber green eyes searched mine; my heart jumped when his hand squeezed my knee. "This whole time you knew and didn't say anything. Why?"

"I didn't wanna mess things up with you and your dad. Plus, he pretty much warned me to keep my mouth shut." When Pete Moore opens his mouth, you listen. I was in a cold sweat just thinking about him. "A few months after you left town, he did the same thing. He told me to let you go. You're famous now, you didn't need any distractions while you were on the road."

"That miserable... fucking... asshole." Tyler sat back in his chair, arms folded. He scoffed. "I have to do something. He's only gonna get worse."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I have a way to pay his debt. I can settle this. Just promise you won't say anything."

"Don't tell me how to handle my dad, Aaliyah. It's my decision and I say he can go fuck himself. We're not bailing him out. This is his problem, not ours."

"Tyler... Aleksandr and Bortnik will kill Pete if he doesn't get their money. We can't just sit by and do nothing—"

"Aaliyah, don't front—you can't afford to pay his debt—and neither can I. Astrid forced me to cap my income—I'm basically on an allowance until I'm eighteen. I wanted to fire her, but it makes sense now. She knows my dad is a thieving piece of shit. And he's gonna get away with it."

"So what?" I scooped the rag from the table and dabbed at the dried blood on Tyler's nose and chin. "Teaching your dad a lesson won't fix what he's broken. Besides, now that your income is locked he can't steal from you. You're free, Tyler."

"I'm not," he said. Tyler's gaze never strayed from my face. "I'm what's broken. My music is the only thing I haven't wrecked. I spent my whole life trying not to be like the toxic piece of shit that raised me. I told myself things would change when he came on the road, that Pete would see my success and finally, finally stop looking at me like a failure... But now I'm just a paycheck."

"You're not broken." I pushed his hair from his forehead, soft, cool waves sliding through my fingers.

"And you're amazing... and sexy." Tyler dragged my chair closer. The freckles on his nose, his Cupid's bow, the shards of brightness in his dark green eyes, were dizzying. Noses brushing, our lips hovered in orbit like cosmic particles waiting to collide...

The phone rang.

Tyler groaned.

***