“Frankie? Where are you, and why aren’t you home yet?” Dad. Perfect.

“I’m at an animal hospital. A cat from the rec center got mauled by a dog.”

Silence.

“If you don’t believe me, feel free to come down here and check out the cat blood all over my clothes. Or call Miss Lorraine.”

“When are you coming home?” he asks.

So much compassion. “When I find out if the cat is okay.”

“I’m calling you in forty-five minutes.”

“Fine.” I hit end without saying good-bye. Tense doesn’t begin to describe our relationship.

My cell rings again and I ignore it. Dad can text whatever he forgot to say. I’m sure he’ll call back in two minutes anyway. I pull my knees up tight against my chest and rest my forehead against them.

The knotted rope of bells on the hospital door jingle and Marco walks in. He stops, and the door hits his back. He has fresh bruises on his face. A cut runs down the center of his bottom lip, and a ripped T-shirt is tied around the knuckles on his right hand.

My first day at Monroe was the only time I’ve ever seen a mark on him.

I point at his lip. “What happened?”

Marco shrugs and leans against the wall beside the door. “Ran into a guy’s elbow.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.

“And your hand?”

He frowns and turns his wrist, as if he forgot about the injury. “A guy ran into my fist. Do you care?”

I rest my chin on my knees. “Of course I do.” I shouldn’t say more, but I can’t stop myself. “I’ve never not cared about you.”

“Sofia called and told me what you did for Cyclops.” He glances at the door designated for employees only. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Why would you do something crazy like that for a stupid cat that doesn’t belong to you?”

“Maybe for the same reason you feed him.”

Marco rubs the cut on his lip with the side of his hand, and my heart skips. “How long have you known?”

“Since before…” I kissed you. “The night of the party.”

He sits in the chair next to mine. “Throwaways like me and Cyclops have to stick together.”

Hearing him talk about himself that way makes me want to kill his father … and mine. “Don’t call yourself that. Please.”

Muffled voices drift into the waiting area from the other side of the door. A moment later, a vet comes out.

“Is he going to be okay?” Marco asks.

The vet tucks her hands in the pockets of her white coat and gives us a sympathetic smile. “It’s hard to say. Your cat lost a lot of blood, and he’s in shock.”

Marco reaches over and takes my hand. The familiar buzz starts in my fingertips.

“If he makes it through the night, I’ll be more optimistic.” She holds out a bill.

Marco takes it and follows her to the counter. He opens his wallet and pays in cash. I bet all the money I had left racing Ortiz.

“Leave a number and we’ll call you if anything changes,” she says.

“Thanks.” Marco scribbles down a number.

She slips through the door and we’re alone again.

“I left your number.” Marco drops down into the seat next to me and takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. He stares straight ahead. “Cyclops can’t die.”

“He won’t.”

He nods, and his gaze falls on our hands. “I miss you.”

My heart aches. “Me too. But that doesn’t change anything.”

“It should.”

“We’ve been through this. I’m the daughter—”

“Of a cop, and I’m a car thief,” he says softly. “But if I wasn’t?” Marco watches me. He’s playing what if, and I already know how the game ends.

“Are you saying you stopped stealing cars?” I already know the answer.

He frowns and bites his cracked lip.

“You have to stop acting crazy and take care of yourself.” I can’t stand the thought of what else he might be doing—and if any of it involves other girls. “Sofia needs you.”

I need you—that’s what I want to say.

“I know.” Marco’s hand tightens around mine. He closes his eyes. “But when I’m racing or fighting, it’s the only time I don’t…” He pulls our hands against his chest, and his heart beats against my fingers. “Hurt.”

“Marco—” My voice shakes along with the rest of my body. I’m not strong enough to protect us both. I pull away from him and rock forward, holding myself together.

“I understand why you left, Frankie. You deserve someone who can pick you up at your house for a real date. Not a guy your dad is trying to lock up.” Marco gathers me in his arms and kisses the top of my head. “I wouldn’t want my little sister to date a guy like me. I wish I’d met you earlier—before I made all the wrong choices. I love you.” He’s out of his chair and through the door before I have a chance to say a word.

CHAPTER 37

COLLATERAL DAMAGE

My cell rings right after first period the next morning. “Hello?

“I’m calling from the Meadowbrook Downs Veterinary Hospital for Frankie Devereux,” the woman says.

Knots tangle in my stomach. “This is Frankie. Is Cyclops all right?”

Say yes. Please say yes.

“He isn’t doing well. He developed a staph infection after surgery. You might want to come see him tonight.” Because he’s dying.

“Is it okay if I come late tonight?”

“We’re open twenty-four hours. You can visit your cat whenever you want.”

My cat.

I end the call without saying good-bye. After the milk crate and the boxing gloves, the one-eyed cat is still going to die. I can’t save him—just like I couldn’t save Noah from getting beaten to death in a parking lot. I can’t save Marco and Sofia from losing each other. Or Cruz from her father or Abel from gambling or Lex from her fears.

I can’t even save myself.

* * *

Things can’t get any worse. It’s a stupid expression.

Things can always get worse. And in my experience, they usually do. So when I get a 911 text from Lex at the end of Shop, I’m not surprised.