Page 109 of Bobby Green

“I like those.” Reg flipped through the book. “The girls were really awesome. Brave and smart and stuff.” He looked at Bobby’s mom and bit his lip. “They probably wouldn’t have let themselves get beat up by the bad guy.”

“No. But then, they probablywouldwork hard to keep their mentally ill sisters home with them instead of someplace they didn’t like.”

Yeah, he was going to make his lower lip raw, but he couldn’t help himself. “But I’m supposed to be the hero,” he apologized. “I’m supposed to have the house and the servants and the people who can take care of her.” He sighed. “Bobby had to have stitches when he fell through the fence chasing after her.”

“I saw the wound on his hand,” she said, head cocked to the side. “There was more?”

“On his shoulder,” Reg said glumly. “He’s been fixing the fence after work for the last week or so.”

“Hm,” she said. “That’s expensive.”

Reg shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, he’s got two jobs. Waiting tables and stuff.”

“Yeah.” Thankfully she changed the subject. “Reg?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever think that maybe the reason women read romance books is not so we can dream of a rescuer?”

Reg frowned. “None of the women in those books seemed to want one of those.”

“Right. What they really wanted was a work partner so they could rescue each other.”

Reg sighed. “Then you need to get Bobby to read some more of those books. I can’t even rescue myself.”

She stood and patted his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll figure out how. I’m going to go fix dinner. You should wake Bobby up and watch some television.”

He smiled at her. “Sure. Thank you. You know. For being nice.”

It was her turn to bite her lip. “Anytime, Reggie. I mean that.”

He thought she was just being polite—he really did.

But he went and shook Bobby awake, and they turned on the TV and found a movie—shit-go-boom style, as Bobby said, and Reg was right on board that shit. Bobby was sitting on a battered corduroy couch, and he pulled Reg into the V of his legs and wrapped an arm around Reg’s chest.

Reg toyed with his battered knuckles and the scabbing hole that was his closing wound. “Did you reopen your shoulder?” he asked anxiously.

“No,” Bobby said, kissing his temple. “I’m fine.”

They paused for a moment to watch the heroes kill people and run through some obstacles and kill more people. Sometimes TV was just so easy. “I feel stupid.”

“You shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have dreamed of hitting him. You wouldn’t think he’d attack you.”

“But I just laid there,” Reg mumbled.

“Remember when I got hurt?” Bobby reminded him. “You tackled your sister on the way to taking me to the ER? Hard-core, baby. You just need to know what’s coming, and you do fine.”

In the kitchen, Bobby’s mom let out a breathless little shriek, and then, loudly: “John Carey Industries myass!”

Bobby cringed, and Reg looked over his shoulder in horror. “Do you think she—”

“Got out the laptop and looked it up?” Bobby supplied. “Yup. That’s Mom.”

Reg sighed and tried to pull away.

“Where are you going?”

“To pack,” Reg told him resignedly. “It’s a real shame too—I think she liked me for an entire minute.”