She shrugs.
“It’s necessary sometimes, you know.”
“I’d rather do it on my own.”
“You must be so proud of yourself.”
“I’ve never done anything special.”
“Are you kidding? When I was sixteen, I was still being pushed around by the school bully.”
“You?” She looks at me, incredulous.
“I was nothing like I am now. My brothers always had to run to my rescue.”
“You make a great team,” she says, smiling.
“Yeah, we do. But I was the youngest, the weakest, the one who always had to prove himself to them,” I say without thinking.
Christine slides off the counter and comes over to me. She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles.
“I don’t think you have to prove anything to anyone. You can see in plain sight just how much you’re worth, Ryan O’Connor.”
I shake my head, embarrassed, and change the subject.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay here?”
She looks at me, knowing full well that I’m avoiding the topic, but she doesn’t press it.
“Everything’s under control.”
“Good.”
“Won’t you be late for training?”
“I already am.”
“Go on, then.”
I sigh. “See you tonight?” I ask, and it seems so natural that it doesn’t even make me want to be sick. “Maybe I’ll bring dinner?”
“I could always cook.”
“Seriously…?”
“Pasta bake.”
“Isn’t that what you always make when you want to be alone?”
“I think I could be convinced to share it.”
“Interesting…” I say, pressing my lips against hers. “What else could you be convinced to share?”
“I’ll tell you at home tonight,” she says, lowering her voice.
At home.
A spasm shoots through my chest.
“I can’t wait to come home.”
