“I’m fine!” I tell her blithely.

I’m hurrying across the sand toward Nero’s car. It’s hard to hurry, because my whole body feels limp and relaxed, in a dream-like state.

Nero is just stepping out of the vehicle. His silhouette stands out starkly against the streetlights behind him. I see his tall frame. Broad shoulders, strong legs in his tight jeans. He turns to the side and I see his thighs flexing, and the curve of his ass, which is as lean and powerful as the rest of him.

A surge of lust almost knocks me off my feet.

I’m aware on some level that the pill Levi made me take has kicked in. But here’s the thing—the Molly is not manufacturing emotions where none existed before. Instead, it’s like a key, turning the locks on every door inside of my brain. It’s flinging those doors wide open, letting everything I’d shut away come pouring out all at once.

When I walk up to Nero, it’s with the intention of throwing myself on him. I need him. Desperately. If I don’t get him, I’ll die.

He catches sight of me, and he turns to face me fully. He runs his hand through his hair, to push it back from his face. This gesture seems to take an endless amount of time. I see the ink-black strands of hair sweeping through his fingers, some escaping to fall down over his eyes again. I see his straight, dark brows drawing together. Those steel-gray eyes focusing on me. He bites his full bottom lip and releases it, a movement both uneasy and infinitely sexual.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” I say.

I would usually never say anything so vulnerable. But with whatever the fuck this is coursing through my veins, I’ve lost the ability to hide. I’m compelled to be honest.

“Yeah?” Nero says, surprised.

“Yes. That’s why I came.”

“I thought you were mad at me. Because I was with Bella.”

“It hurt my feelings for a minute,” I admit. “But I know why you were at the bank.”

He’s staring at me, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

“Are you . . . going to tell anyone?”

“No,” I say simply.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t give a shit what you do. I only care . . . how you feel about me.”

Nero frowns. “What’s going on with you?” he says.

“Levi made me take Molly.”

He lets out a surprised snort, like he thinks I might be joking.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” he says. “Let me look at you.”

He puts his hand on the side of my face and tilts up my chin so he can look in my eyes.

The moment his fingers touch my face, I feel an intense swoop of pleasure, like his fingertips are stroking down raw nerve. It’s a rush of warmth and sensuality, that seems to leave visible sparks in its path.

“Oh yeah,” he says, looking into my dilated pupils. “You’re high as fuck.”

He leans into his car, pulling out a bottle of water.

“You better drink this.”

He twists off the cap. I drink down half the bottle. It tastes delicious and refreshing, even though it’s not cold.

“You want me to take you home?” he says.

“No,” I say dreamily. “It makes me sad being at home. I want to spend time with my dad, but also, I want to cry every time I see him. I can’t stand it.”

“What’s wrong with your dad?” Nero asks sharply.

“Lung cancer.”

“Oh,” Nero says. There’s real anger and sympathy in his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

He seems to be searching for what to say or what to do. I can tell he feels uncomfortable and helpless, and that makes him even angrier.

Usually, that would make me feel awkward too, and one of us would say something stupid that would offend the other person. But right now, nothing can offend me. I feel like I’m seeing things in a completely different way. I understand Nero, and I understand myself.

“Do you want to go for a walk or something?” Nero says, desperately.

“Yeah,” I say. “I would.”

We walk along the lakeshore, away from the bonfire. We’re walking right along the waterline on the wet sand. I’ve taken off my sandals and Nero left his shoes behind, so the cold water laps against our bare feet. For me, this feels utterly incredible. Nero doesn’t seem to mind it, either.

For once in my life, I’m talking openly and freely without holding anything back. I’m telling Nero absolutely everything. About my dad and my brother, the fact that I’m flat fucking broke and I have no idea how I’m going to pay for Vic’s school or my dad’s treatment.

I even tell him about my mom. How I miss her so badly. And then I hate myself for missing her, because I know I shouldn’t care when she obviously doesn’t give a fuck about me. And how I feel guilty for having that hole in my heart, when my dad has always tried to make our family complete, with or without her.

We’ve walked far enough from the fire and the city lights that it’s almost completely dark. I can’t really see Nero’s face anymore. That removes the last shred of reserve. I feel safe telling him anything.

We sit down on the sand and I rest my back against his body to keep warm.

“If I lose my dad, I won’t have anything,” I tell Nero. “He’s the only person who ever tried to take care of me. I’ll have to help Vic all on my own. And I’m not that great of a sister. I don’t even have my own life figured out, how the fuck can I tell Vic what he should do?”

Nero is quiet for a long time. Long enough that I think I’ve said too much.

Then, finally, he says, “My mom got sick when I was little. My father thought it was a flu. She was up in their bedroom. He told us all to leave her alone and let her rest. I didn’t listen, though. I wanted to show her a pocketknife my uncle gave me. So I snuck in there.”

I can feel his heart beating hard, against my back. I’m silent, picturing Nero as a boy, already too handsome in a way that would be unusual and almost frightening in a child.

“I went up to her room. She was lying in bed. Very pale, not breathing normally. I felt . . . afraid. I thought I should leave. But she saw me and motioned for me to come over to her. She had . . . very pretty hands. She was a concert pianist.”

He swallows hard, his throat making a clicking sound.

“I lay down on the pillow by hers. She tried to brush my hair with her fingers. Which she did all the time. But this time, she couldn’t seem to move her hand right, and her fingers got tangled. I pushed her hand away, because I was scared. Her hand was clammy, and her breath smelled like metal.”

His arms are tightening around me, squeezing me too hard. I don’t say anything to interrupt him.

“I kept thinking I should go get my father. But I knew I’d be in trouble for waking her up, when she was supposed to be sleeping. Then all of a sudden, she started choking. Not out loud, though. Silently. I was right there, so I could see her face. Her mouth was open, without any sound coming out. Her body was jerking. I kept thinking I had to yell for my father, I had to get up and run down and grab him. But I was frozen in place. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even shut my eyes. I was just staring into her face while the blood vessels burst in her eyes. I didn’t understand what was happening, that she was suffocating. She looked possessed, with the whites of her eyes all bloody. It was horrible. And then she died, and I still didn’t move. I couldn’t move or speak at all, or make the tiniest sound. I just watched and let it happen. I let my mother die.”