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When I return a few minutes later, I find what looks like a thousand shopping bags lined up neatly on the dining room table and Conner standing over them, shamelessly inspecting my purchases. When he hears my approach, he looks up and grins. “Looks like you and Miss Molly had a fun day.”
Because, despite his approving tone, it feels like an accusation, I instantly feel the need to explain myself. “Patrick was kind enough to give—”
“I know.” He gives me that grin again before stepping away from the table. “Even though my dad gave Cap’n control over it, he still insists that it’s family money.” He shrugs. “Which means he feels the need to consult my brother and me every time he wants to buy more than a stick of gum.” The grin turns into a grimace. “A Kia wouldn’t have been my first choice, but my cousin is unfailingly practical when it comes to things like that.”
There are definite perks to being a Gilroy.
That’s what Patrick said to me this morning when he insisted I take the credit card and the car.
We’re family. We take care of each other—whatever it takes.
“I kept every receipt,” I tell him like I’m launching some sort of defense. “I know what I spent, to the penny, and I—”
“How’s the hunt for schools goin’?” he says, effectively taking the wind out of my sails. “You find one you like?”
I’ve found a few but the tuition was enough to make me feel faint. “Uhhh…” I watch as Conner turns away from me completely to make his way into the kitchen. “I have an appointment set up to take the entrance exam at Bay State College,” I say while he sticks his head in the fridge like he owns the place.
“Bay State?” Conner says, straightening up from the fridge with a couple of beers in his hand. Pulling a Tiki bottle opener from the side of the fridge, he pops their caps off. “When?”
“Tomorrow.” I tell him. “I don’t have much hope that I’ll get in but—”
“You’ll get in.” He sounds sure. Like it’s already a done deal. “It’s a private college,” he says, coming around the counter toward me He offers me one of the beers in his hand and I take it. “Expensive.”
“I know.” I nod in commiseration. Cari said she’ll pay for it but the thought of her forking over that kind of money for me makes me a little lightheaded. “I got decent grades in high school and scored pretty high on my SATs so, I’m hopeful I can qualify for some sort of partial scholarship. Maybe a work-study program.” I refuse to think about what I’ll do with Molly if I have to find a job.
One crisis at a time. That’s how I manage.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” He tips his beer toward his mouth to take a drink with a shrug. “These things have a way of working themselves out.”
Because that’s never been my experience, I don’t have an answer for him. “Ryan told me what the two of you were fighting about on Sunday,” I say instead. When all he does is look at me, I feel the need to elaborate. “Me. You were fighting about me.” My cheeks start to flush, and I suddenly wish I’d kept my mouth shut. “You were pushing him to—”
“I remember.” He points to the bruise starting to fade on his cheekbone. “I’m just trying to figure out why he’d tell you something like that.”
Because I asked him.
Instead of stating the obvious, I go for broke. “You know him, right?” I look down at the beer bottle sweating in my grip. “You’re friends.”
“We were best friends,” he says it cautiously. Like the conversation’s taken a turn he hadn’t anticipated. “Before.” He doesn’t tell me before what. I have a feeling it isn’t any one thing. That before is a collection of events, too heavy and personal for him to unpack in front of me. That for Conner, family means something different than it does for Patrick and despite the fact that he gave my financial support his stamp of approval, I haven’t quite met the terms of his definition.
“Oh...” I slide my thumbnail under the label on my bottle and start to pry it up with the kind of precise delicacy you’d expect to see in a brain surgeon. “So, you’d be the person to ask if I wanted to know something… personal about him,” I say, risking it despite the wariness I sense in him.
“I don’t know Ryan anymore,” he states bluntly. “None of us do—but I’m probably the most informed on his injuries and medical condition.”
Because I have a strange feeling that he knows exactly what I’m trying to ask, I force myself to look him in the eye. “We had lunch with him today at the center—Molly and me.”
“Did he do something?” His face falls into a frown. “Did he say—”
“No.” I shake my head, fast and tight. “He was great. Patient with Molly. Played games with her,” I tell him. “Sunday he told me he wasn’t interested in me and even though he insisted it wasn’t, I assumed it was because of Molly but today—”
“You figured out it wasn’t about her. You figured out it’s about you.”
My neck goes stiff at his matter-of-fact assessment and I have to force myself to not look away. “Yes.” I nod my head. “He keeps telling me he’s not equipped to—”
“That’s what he said? Equipped?” Now Conner laughs, the sudden explosion of it, jerking my eyes wide and forcing me a step back. When he realizes I’m not laughing with him, his laughter tapers off to a chuckle. “I’m sorry,” he says, wiping at his eyes. “I’m pretty sure there’s a question in there somewhere—are you asking me in what capacity Ryan is ill-equipped to pursue a relationship with you?”
Because that’s exactly what I’m asking and I’m mortified by Conner’s direct question, I just stand here and nod. “He said that if we were to ever…” I let the sentence trail off like a coward. Clearing my throat, I try again. “He said I’d want to run. That I’d wish I had when he gave me the chance.” I set my bottle on the table next to me and cross my arms over my chest. “I want to know what that means.” I don’t tell him the rest. What Ryan leaned over and whispered in my ear.
I can’t fuck you, no matter how much I want to.