Page 32 of My Best Friend Is Broken

The morning sun streams through the hospital window, and for the first time in years, I don’t automatically assume it’s going to be a bad day.

It might be. Probably will be, if I’m being honest.

But maybe that’s okay.

Maybe learning to survive the bad days is the first step toward having good ones again.

Chapter eleven

Nicky

I’ve left Liam in an institution. Again.

Okay, I didn’t put him in prison, but I did leave him there. I didn’t fight to see him, when visits might have made all the difference.

I rub my hand over my face. Yeah right. Who am I kidding? As if seeing my ugly face in a visiting room would have done anything. We might have had a laugh for thirty-minutes, but then the guards would have dragged him back to his cell, and his cellmate, or whoever the fuck it was who hurt him.

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. I want to ask Liam for names. I have connections now. Even in prison, I can reach people. Make them pay. Make them hurt.

But Liam is already scared and disappointed in me. Nevermind the fact that I very much doubt he is willing to share the details.

I know. He knows I know. It is forever going to be this unspoken thing between us.

And that’s just fine, as long as he is happy. Happy and safe and coping. That’s the only thing I want. I’d gladly swap all my wealth and status for Liam to be okay.

Sighing, I park the car. The sky is gray and rain is splattering down half-heartedly. It is a perfect depiction of my mood.

I get out of the car and jog up to the door. The doorbell chimes. A pleasant sound that lets you know it is an expensive doorbell only for people with good taste.

The heavy door swings open, and Molly smiles warmly at me. He isn’t wearing a dress today, or tiny shorts. He is wearing comfy-looking yoga pants and a loose-fitting tee shirt. His blond hair is up in a messy bun, and there is a trace of glitter around his eyes.

“Hi!”

“Hi.”

He steps aside to let me in, and suddenly, sense crashes into me.

“Is Dario in?”

Molly’s brows furrow. “No? When you rang, you said you wanted to see me?”

“I do,” I swallow. “But if Dario’s not home…”

Molly stares at me blankly for a moment, and then comprehension sparks. He rolls his eyes, grabs my suit jacket and hauls me over the threshold.

“Dario isn’t a dick. He knows I’m not going to sleep around.”

My cheeks are burning now. “It’s a respect thing,” I mumble. “A Made Man is never alone with another man’s wife.”

Molly puts his hands on his hips. “Well, he hasn’t married me yet, so you are fine.”

“You are still his,” I protest.

“I am,” Molly agrees with a proud smile.

He pulls out his phone and puts it on speakerphone. The calling tone rings out twice, then Dario’s voice echoes around the entrance hall.

“Everything alright? Molly Mio?”