Kai nodded.

“So . . . what about it?” I said. “Out with it.”

“He told me stuff . . . about you.” He watched me vigilantly, like maybe I’d slug him any minute or something.

I folded my knees to my chest, maybe in an effort to protect myself. “Like what?”

“That you liked your . . . athletes.”

“Fuck.” I pushed my fingers through my hair in a flustered rush. I thought of the parties Nate and I had both been to where I’d flirt with the jocks and then either make out with someone or go home with them.

I never stayed after sex. I never wanted to. At the beginning, it felt like I was taking a stab at Miles. I felt strong and confident, determined to shit all over his memory. But then it changed to need fulfillment. It became a way for me to live out my ridiculous fantasies of him still wanting me.

“But it makes sense,” Kai said. “That’s why you chose to go away to college. To make a fresh start.”

I nodded, my lips too numb to make a sound. I rocked back and forth in my chair.

“You were working out everything that happened to you. Maybe you didn’t want to be that same girl anymore.”

Finally my lips became unstuck. “I didn’t. I don’t want to be her ever again.”

“Believe it or not, I liked that other girl,” he said. “The girl you were before you were with Miles. That girl was cool and funny as hell. She was confident and amazing. Confident in a different way. More self-assured.”

I shook my head. I sure as hell wasn’t confident back then. At least not with guys.

“And now?” I whispered. I felt like I was on display. Like he was chipping away at my exterior, trying to see deep inside.

“You’re that same girl . . . but on speed.” He grinned. “And maybe seeing Miles brought it all to the surface. Your way of working through it might not accomplish anything anymore. At least not at home. Not where people will talk.”

All I could do was study him. He always knew the right things to say. He’d been better at fixing me than he’d been at fixing himself.

“So if you feel like you’ve got something to work out, come find me again. Our secret, remember?” His eyes flared briefly with passion. He had been remembering our night. Maybe he’d enjoyed kissing me, too. It certainly appeared as if he had. A shiver raced down my spine.

He seemed adamant that it wouldn’t ruin our friendship. But just in case, I didn’t plan on asking him to take care of my needs ever again.

“Only if you come find me when you’re tempted to smoke an entire bowl of weed,” I hissed. His eyebrows rose in midair. “Use me, too. We’re not that different, remember?’

He sighed. “I remember.”

Chapter Eight Kai

I pulled into the underground garage of the Golden Arrow Casino and the attendant waved me in. My head was still buzzing from my conversation with Rachel. Damn, when she told me I was important to her, all my feelings for her had been on the very tip of my tongue.

But she was so afraid of ruining our friendship that I needed to make sure I tucked my feelings away. She’d spent the past three years trying to work out her problems emotionally—and physically—and eventually, her strategy would fall flat in the face of reality.

Just like it had for me. Little did she realize that I’d curbed my own behavior after I’d fallen for her. In years past, no one made me feel anything. I was all about having a good time. But once I recognized the way I felt about Rachel, she changed that and everything else in the world paled in comparison. Everyone else.

Rachel was a like a shock of red in a dreary sea of gray.

I parked in the employee row of spaces and then took the elevator to the second floor. Looking around at the new patterned carpet in the entryway to the lobby, I realized how long it’d been since I’d stepped foot in my family’s casino.

Being here reminded me of our roots. Faces that looked like mine. The bronze skin, dark eyes, thick ebony hair. Some of our people still wore it braided down their backs out of pride for our heritage.

A couple of women wearing the traditional buckskin dress at the entrance to the gift shop bowed to me out of fucking respect. That had always been something to get used to. One older gentleman I didn’t recognize straight away clunked me on the back as I strode by him at the blackjack table. “Long time no see, Shiye.”

I turned to look into his deep-set black eyes. My parents had taught me good manners, especially about respecting one’s elders, so I stopped to speak to him. Besides, I was already on their shit list after my father’s phone call this morning. “Sam, yá’át’ééh. Nice to see you. How have you been?”

He looked down at the deck of cards in his hand. Time had not been kind to him. Wrinkles lined his mouth and forehead, and there were bags beneath his eyes. Had he had patrons at his seats, there would be no time for small talk. But the place was mostly empty. At least at the gambling tables, which always saw more action in the evenings. The slots machines looked to be about half-full.

I stole a look at the clock just beyond the giant crystal chandelier. If Sam didn’t hurry, I’d be late, and then dad would accuse me of getting high this morning. Not that I hadn’t considered it. “Well, my grandson has been pretty sick.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, trying to sound more interested. The old man seemed pretty upset, so maybe his grandson didn’t just have the flu. “Which grandson is this?”

“Micah,” he said almost reverently. “He’s going to need a transplant.”

That made me turn my full attention to him. “What kind of transplant?”

“Heart,” he said. “He’s been placed on a list. We’ve all been pitching in trying to keep his spirits up, and your parents have been great about allowing me to trade shifts from time to time.”

“I’m so sorry. Please know that he’s in my thoughts.” I knew everything there was to know about trying to keep a hospitalized person’s spirits up. “If you ever need anything.”

I motioned to my father’s office and turned to walk away.

But his soft and tentative voice called me back. “Well, since you asked . . .” I couldn’t imagine what he could possibly want from me. Did he need me to take a shift? I certainly hadn’t gone to dealer training, but I wouldn’t put it past my father to ask me to get my license or any other license required to work in his casino. I’d put it off for far too long.

I took a step back toward him. “What is it?”

“Maybe you could visit Micah sometime. He likes rock music and, well, you study music and play in bands. Maybe you could bring your guitar and keep him company some afternoon.”

I was struck speechless. How bad off was this kid? The look of anguish on his grandfather’s face might have said it all. “Sure, Sam, anytime. But right now I gotta get on the clock. So let me ask you about visiting hours later.”

“Do your father proud,” he said as I strode away from him.

I knocked on the office door before firmly twisting the knob. I heard my father’s deep, rich voice as I pushed it open. “Come in.”

Mom was the first person I saw as I entered the lush space. She sat behind a small oak desk at the back of the room right beneath a giant portrait of a Navajo warrior in battle. She had her own office upstairs, but my parents always hung out in the same space, so it was no surprise to see them together. Mom rose first to greet me, stepping around my father’s large desk, which took up most of the middle of the room.

“There’s my favorite guy.” She tugged me into her arms, and I felt how thin and bony she was. My father was a tall and imposing man, so next to him she looked like a porcelain doll.

I kissed her cheek and pulled away. “Hi, Mom.”

Then I looked over at my father. He stood behind his desk and stretched out his hand as if I was a new employee or something. And maybe that was the message he was trying to send.