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I frown, because what else could I do? Certainly not kiss him or … do other things. "I'm not getting into your car." And what the fuck am I on about?

"Why not?"

"I've seen a documentary." Because it's true.

That gets him. A short laugh escapes before he can stop it, and he hides it behind the coffee.

"Heated seats. Excellent stereo."

"I'm sure the last one thought so too."

"Nobody has ever died in this car." He considers what he just said, then confirms. "Not one person."

I have to exercise superhuman effort not to roll my eyes. "Fascinating. Goodnight, Mr. Novak."

"Laszlo."

"Goodnight, Mr. Novak."

He doesn't follow, doesn't step into my path, doesn't do a single thing I've braced myself for since his oh-so-romantic marriage proposal.

"Your brother's nose," he says when I've got the door to my car open. His voice is level, calm. "You set it yourself, didn't you? After you left my house."

I don't say anything. I get in, lock the doors, and sit there with both hands on the wheel for a few seconds before I trust myself with the ignition. Why is he even mentioning this? Setting a nose is child's play for me.

Without a word, I drive off.

He follows me for twenty-two minutes out of the hospital. Not close, a few car lengths back, using his blinker at every single turn like a man with nothing to hide. I run a light I shouldn't and he waits it out. I take the east exit, which isn't my way home, and so does he.

After a while, I'm not frightened any more. I'm so angry I keep grinding my jaw.

There's a strip past a container yard where the road runs above the water. I came here the night I told my father about medical school, and after my first death on a table. Nobody knows about it. Not Julien, not Charles, not one living person I know.

I pull in hard and I'm out before his headlights have finished sweeping the fence.

"What is wrong with you?" I shout at him.

He takes his time to park, then gets out and stands there, looking out at the water.

"Your driving was unsafe and I was concerned about you. I wanted to see if you'd stop."

"There are men doing eight years upstate for this."

"None of them had my lawyer. And we need to talk, which I'm not doing in a parking lot where a security guard named Marvin can hear me."

"There's nothing to talk about. I said yes. You get your paperwork, I get my brother, and I'd rather not see your face until whatever day is chosen for me to keep my promise," I say, wanting to leave badly.

"Right," he says. "That's the conversation."

I fold my arms around myself. It's freezing, but we need to get this over with. Maybe then he will finally leave me be.

"Is your cousin alive? Nicko."

"Awake. Jaw's wired, but his mind’s alert. He wrote something extremely rude on a whiteboard about grapes."

His cousin is awake and rude. Both good signs. But the jaw isn't what I'm worried about. He took two blades to the gut and it's day four. Day four is the dangerous one. If something's going to go wrong, this is when it shows up. Nobody dies of the stab itself. They die a few days later from an infection everyone missed because they were too busy being glad he lived.

"Fever?"