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That, at least, was consistent. He had never been a martyr.

He was willing to do uncomfortable things, but not so he could downplay his role in them. He wanted the glory.

He was hardly going around tying himself to wooden stakes.

And even though things were different now, he still didn’t have the kind of restraint required to turn away when he really, really wanted something.

He knew how to go without unless he didn’t want to.

That was a strange new revelation.

Because this version of himself had never really wanted anything.

Nothing beyond sobriety. Nothing beyond pulling himself back from the brink of death, simply because he knew that sinking into his own brand of oblivion was a piss-poor tribute to the people who had died.

And if he really wanted to do battle against the dark thoughts telling him he should have been the one who had been blown up instead, he needed to make a life worth living.

And that was the journey.

But beyond that, beyond survival, beyond building something that from the outside looked functional, he hadn’t wanted much of anything.

But now he wanted her.

He really fucking did.

“I’ll meet you at your place.”

HERHANDSWEREshaking as she texted Fia to let her know she was spending the night with Lydia.

Then she texted Lydia.

If my sister asks, tell her I’m going to spend the night with you.

OMG, what are we in middle school?

Maybe. Maybe a little. Except not.

I’m only going to ask you once. Are you lying to your sister because you are going to look at my brother naked?

Gross.

Are you?

I probably won’t just look at him.

Have fun. Don’t hurt him.

She stared at that.

I won’t.

And that was it.

It felt momentous. And also not as weird as she had thought. For her friend to know.

And maybe she shouldn’t find it intoxicating that her friend thought she had to warn Rory not to hurt Gideon.

No, she definitely shouldn’t find that intoxicating. That was silly. It was madness.