“What?” she asked innocently. “He’s thirty-two. He needs to start—”
“Baby,” Scott said. “Don’t.”
Opheliatskedand stood up from the chair. “Boys.” She slipped into the kitchen, and Scott moved to stand by Connor.
“So how’s all that going?” Scott asked.
Connor merely shook his head. “I don’t even know anymore.”
Brennan emerged from the hall and stood next to them with his hands in his pockets.
“She feeling better?” Connor asked.
Brennan shrugged. “She just said she’s havinga day.”
Connor studied his friend’s neutral expression. “Did she say anythingelse?”
“Maybe you should talk to her.” Brennan offered an aloof tilt of his head. “Especially if you want her to stick around longer than it sounds like she’s planning to.”
Connor narrowed his eyes, skeptical all of a sudden. “What do you mean by that?”
“Imean,” Brennan echoed, taking a large step to close the distance between them, “whatever happened today seems to have rattled her, and you need to go talk to her. Unless you really are okay with her leaving. And I don’t think you are.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “Did she tell you what happened?”
Brennan groaned and briefly clutched the bridge of his nose. “No, Sarge.” He dropped his hand at his side. “She didn’t say anything. Just go talk to her. Seriously. Do I need to hold your hand and escort you outside?”
Connor drew in a silent deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I’ll be right back.”
Scott gave Connor’s back a firm pat as Connor pulled the front door open and strode out. Liza stood next to the car fishing through her purse.
“Hey, Liza,” Connor said, but she didn’t look up. He jogged until he reached her. “Are you all right? We all heard you coughing and gagging in there.”
She scoffed. “Well, that’s not mortifying or anything.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.” Liza pulled her hand out, holding the key fob, and clicked the button. “My stomach is weird. When I’m stressed out, I get nauseated.”
“Huh.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the hood of the car. “Sounds like an ulcer or something.”
“It’s not an ulcer.” She pulled open the door. “It’s just a reaction to stress, and today was unexpectedly stressful.”
Connor squinted at her. “What was so stressful about it?” He already had an idea what it was, and it involved his lips on hers when they shouldn’t have been.
She briefly cut her eyes toward him and then looked at ground. “Oscar is stressful. His situation is extremely distressing, and I have a fierce need to help him get out of it, so thinking about all the work we have to do is also stressful.”
“Is that all?”
Liza lifted her chin and flipped her palm at him. “Isn’t that enough? You’re not worried about him living in rot and mold for the past three years? As an orphan with no family? He needs out of that, and we’re his quickest way to get there. That comes with pressure.”
“Of course I’m worried about him.” Connor stood up straight again and angled his body toward her. “I was asking if there was anything else bothering you.”
“I don’t know what else would be bothering me, Connor.”
“Yeah, you do.”
Her features fell into a distinctly sad expression. “If you think I’m bothered or stressed about you kissing me, you’re wrong. I don’t know what that was supposed to mean, but in all likelihood, it didn’t mean anything. In all likelihood, you just wanted to make me stop crying because it was awkward. I’m not going to read into it, so you didn’t need to come out here and clarify your intentions. I know you don’t have any.”
