“You’ve forgiven him,” I say as we pause to give my leg a rest.
Mark shrugs, noncommittal.
“You pick fights a lot, you know,” I say. “Chris, Tommy, and now Eddie. And there was our battle the past two years.”
“We weren’t fighting; we were flirting,” Mark says, offering me a bottle of water. “If anything, it was accidental friendly fire rather than a battle.” He sits next to me—on my left, of course—and nudges his shoulder to mine. “How is it feeling now?”
“It’s okay. And, yeah,” I grin. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’ll stop by the pharmacy on the way home to get a proper ice bag for you. And, if it’s okay, I’ll pop out of the house for a few minutes once we’re back. Pick up some clothes from yours, if you don’t mind giving me the house key.”
My grin fades. “I’ll come with you.”
“No,” Mark says. “I don’t want to risk any chance at all of a run-in. I’d lend you clothes to wear so you could get by until Chris is back, but you need your sleeves.”
I release a long breath, sinking against Mark’s side, and placing my chin on his shoulder. “I’ll agree if you bring Eddie. And before you say it, I know you don’t need backup. But I’d feel better if the two of you went together.”
Mark releases a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll bring him.”
After a rest, we return to the floor with the others. Riona gives all of us her stamp of approval by the end of the session, and I walk out with my arm wrapped around Mark’s waist. Relaxed. I’m tired from not getting much sleep and the stress of yesterday, but my mood is better. I danced with Mark in front of people. We’re making physical contact. I’m not back to where I started. Yesterday was just a small blip. A misstep. And those? Those I’ve had plenty of. I can recover.
My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.
“Hey,” I answer. “Isn’t it the middle of the night there?”
“I’m on Irish time.” Chris’s voice is husky. Thick. As if he’d either just woken up or was about to fall asleep.
“Are you calling to check in?” I ask. But there’s something in his voice that catches my attention. An unhappiness. An unease.
Chris sighs. “I can’t get the restraining order.”
I come to an abrupt stop in front of Mark’s car. A bolt of panic shoots through me, quickly followed by a towering wave of unease. I do my best to swallow it all down as I pull away from Mark and instead lean against the side of the car. Mark watches me closely as I move.
“You can’t?” I ask, trying my best to mask my emotions.
“I’m coming home.”
“No. Chris, don’t. You have to make your living,” I say quickly before sighing too. “What’s the problem? It’s been too long?” I should have realised it wouldn’t be possible. It’s not like anything that happened before was put into writing. Nothing was reported. Nobody was charged. Chris just took me away from the situation and nobody ever tried to reach out and take me back.
“The court only passes restraining orders when it’s part of an active case.”
And it’s not as if we have a case. Ronan approaching me wasn’t exactly grounds for a criminal arrest. If everyone filed lawsuits when a family member asked them for money, half the country would be in jail.
“I see.” My voice comes out thick despite my best efforts. “It’s okay, Chris.” I can feel his unhappiness through the phone. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not stuck in the house with him without a way out.”
“I can still—”
“Don’t even think about booking a ticket,” I warn. “I’m staying with Mark until you’re back anyway and you’re already there, so just do your job or you’re not going to have any money for that lawyer of yours.”
Chris sighs a good four times before saying, “Fine. I’ll talk to him again and see if we can figure something out together. In the meantime, stick next to Mark.”
“Get some sleep, Chris.” I hang up and drop my head, taking in deep breaths.
Mark leans against the car next to me.
“Touching a no-go right now?” he asks.
In answer, I rest my temple against his shoulder. He promptly wraps his arm around my shoulders.
