Текст книги "Breaking a Legend"
Автор книги: Sarah Robinson
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“Not even close,” Jimmy added.
“He used to party all the time, a never-ending parade of skanks, but lately I haven’t seen him even blink at a single woman,” Kane told her.
“Except you,” Quinn confirmed, watching her intently.
“He’s not even partying. I haven’t seen him drinking this past week. It’s crazy.” Kane continued, and the brothers all nodded in agreement.
“People change.” Clare kept a straight face, trying to contain her excitement. She didn’t want to tell herself that Rory was actually that taken with her; it left too much room for disappointment. What if they were wrong?
“Only with the right motivations,” Kane told her as she handed them all another round of drinks.
“Here, it’s on the house.”
“Is that a bribe, Clare?” Quinn teased.
“Bribe for what?”
“Leave her alone, Quinn,” Jimmy ordered.
“To win the Kavanagh clan approval, of course. Haven’t you heard? Our pops runs this part of town, old-school Irish Mafia, used to be quite the boxer back in the day for the Westies,” Quinn continued, sounding like he was both bragging and trying to sound intimidating.
Clare blinked at him, her mouth falling slightly open. She had heard some of the rumors and she had met Seamus, but while he was a bit gruff and certainly had a tough exterior, he had been gentle and kind with her.
“Trying to scare away my girl, Quinn?”
Everyone turned around to see Rory towering over them, arms crossed over his chest. With the intimidating stance he was holding himself in as he eyed his brother, he seemed to stand ten times his normal size.
“If she can scare.”
Quinn smirked at her, as if the two had a secret between them. She smiled back, feeling like she had just passed their test.
“Didn’t work,” Clare jested, trying not to stare at Rory, who happened to look irresistible at the moment in a skin-tight black T-shirt that showed every muscle outlined beneath.
“I like her, man. Don’t fuck it up,” Quinn told him as his brothers began ragging on Rory.
“I don’t plan on it.” Rory’s stature softened and he motioned for her to come over to the end of the bar, away from his brothers, where there was a break in the wooden surface. She smiled and quickly followed, pushing up the section of the counter that lifted so employees could get from behind the bar into the pub. Rory joined her in the gap and slid his arms around her, pulling her against him.
They were slightly hidden from view by the lifted counter and the wall on the other side of them, so she felt less inhibited about the public display.
“My brothers are assholes,” he said, grimacing.
“I think they’re sweet. They clearly love you.”
He moved to trail his fingers down her upper arm.
Clare felt her body shiver in response, but she was far from cold. She admired his silver eyes, eyes that seemed molten now as he stared intensely at her.
“So, I’ve been thinking, and I want to ask you…” Rory pushed a stray hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear, pausing for a moment.
Clare immediately blushed, feeling self-conscious as she realized she was wearing her apron still and reeked of alcohol from splashing beer on herself earlier.
“Ask me what?” She slid her hands up between them, resting her palms flat on his chest, enjoying the solid feeling of pure muscle beneath her.
“Go on another official date with me.”
“That doesn’t sound like a question.”
“Maybe because I already know your answer.” He leaned in toward her, kissing the tip of her nose gently. A bit light-headed just from his touch, she felt her body sag against him.
“Okay,” she whispered breathlessly. She couldn’t think of anything else to say; her mind had gone completely blank.
“Kane’s first match is on Friday night. Come watch. Then we’ll go out after to celebrate,” he told her as his lips grazed the corner of hers.
She just nodded, her hands gripping his shoulders to keep herself from collapsing. Even though he was bending over slightly, she still had to reach up quite a bit to touch his shoulders as he towered a foot above her.
A shrill, irritating voice cut into their conversation. “Clare!” She just rolled her eyes, cursing Cian in her mind for having the ability to completely ruin a perfect moment.
“I think your boss is calling.”
“Clare, the two-top by the window needs drinks. Go take—” Cian appeared behind her, already ordering her around. The moment he saw Rory standing there, he froze and his hand protectively came up to guard his face.
“What is he doing in here?” he seethed in a low tone.
“Cian, relax. I’m not going to punch you. Yet,” Rory said menacingly, just enough question in his voice to make Clare’s boss wonder if that was true.
Cian crossed his hands over his chest, trying to appear tougher than he was. “You’re banned from here.”
“He’s not banned. The corporate manager already said you couldn’t ban anyone,” Clare said defiantly.
Cian just narrowed his eyes at her, his nostrils flaring. Giving up, he stormed off to the back room, cursing under his breath.
“Feisty.” There was a spark in Rory’s eyes as he gazed at Clare.
“Don’t forget it.”
“I’ll see you later tonight to take you home, mhuirnín.” He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead, then released her and strutted back over to his brothers, who were clearly snickering and being juvenile about the interaction.
Rory whacked Quinn on the back of his head, which told Clare Quinn must have made some type of smart-ass comment. Cian shouted for her again, and she scurried back behind the bar to finish her shift.
Chapter 14
“Clare, don’t you have a cellphone or something?” Cian barked as he wandered back into the empty pub to find her counting her tips at the counter.
“Yeah, why?”
“Stop using the bar’s number as your own personal line, then.” Cian scowled, pulling open the cash register and replacing the empty tray after having secured all the day’s earnings in the bank envelope.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have a call on line one. Hurry up—you still have side work to do.”
He waved her away as Clare pushed the bills on the counter together and pocketed her tips, heading to the back room that led to the office. She couldn’t imagine who would be calling her here, since only her new, local friends knew she worked here.
She picked up the receiver that was sitting on the desk, off the hook. “Hello?”
“I’ve missed that sound,” a scratchy voice rumbled, and Clare instantly felt her stomach drop.
“Clare?” the caller said when she didn’t respond.
“What do you want?” Her teeth were clenched together, her tone stern.
“That’s not a very nice way to talk to your boyfriend, Clare.”
“How did you find me, Travis?” She tried to stay stern, but her voice was faltering. She bit her lip furiously, angry at herself for showing fear and even more angry at him for causing it.
“You were never the brightest crayon in the box, baby. I’ve known where you are for a while. I’ve let you have your fun, your little bout of independence, but my patience is running thin. You have something that is mine, and I want it back. So, either you come home or I come to you. And you know that if you make me come get you, you’re not going to be the only one to pay for your mistake.” He went from nonchalant to forceful and threatening in a flash.
“I’m not coming back, and that money is mine; it was my parents’. You stole it, and I stole it back. You’re not touching it, or me, again. We are over. I’m not your girlfriend.” She clasped the phone receiver in her hand tightly, her body shaking.
“You know I’ve always liked it when you pick the hard way. A lot more fun for me. See you soon, baby.”
The line went dead.
Trembling, Clare placed the phone on the receiver, closing her eyes. She felt nauseated and realized she was about to vomit. Jumping up out of the office chair, she rushed down the hall to the employee bathroom and instantly emptied the contents of her stomach.
“Well, that’s just disgusting. You could have at least closed the door,” Cian said from behind her, as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Sorry,” she whimpered, kneeling over the toilet, waiting for the next round of sickness to hit her.
“You better not be pregnant. I can’t afford to hire and train a new bartender right now.”
“I’m not pregnant, Cian. I just need to go home.” She stood up and washed out her mouth in the sink, then wiped her face with some paper towels.
“Fine, I’ll finish up tonight. But only because I’m afraid you might puke on me. You have a couple days off anyway, but you better be good to go by Saturday.” He marched back to the office, not showing any further interest in her or concern for her well-being.
She unsteadily trailed over to her locker and collected her belongings, then called a cab from her cellphone to meet her out front. She knew Rory would be mad at her for leaving early, but she didn’t want to explain to him. Things were still so new between them. She didn’t even know how to define what they were to each other.
Once thing was certain: She wasn’t about to burden him with her problems.
Especially when it now seemed like she was going to have to run again.
–
Rory checked his cellphone for the time. Clare was normally done by now, but she had yet to leave O’Leary’s and meet him and Ace out front. Circling around the alley to the back of the building, he knocked on the metal door.
“Fuck, what do you want?” Cian greeted him after pushing open the heavy door. Rory ignored the man’s unpleasant attitude, staring past him into the back of the restaurant.
“Is Clare done yet?”
“No, she left like ninety minutes ago.” He crossed his arms, staring Rory down defiantly.
“She left early?”
“Yeah, she was really fucking things up tonight, so I sent her home.”
Rory tightened his jaw at the comment, narrowing his eyes at Cian and seriously contemplating breaking his nose again. Ace snarled quietly next to him, feeling the animosity between the men. Rory put his hand out flat, a signal for Ace to calm down. Nervousness flashed over Cian’s weaselly face as he glanced at the dog and gulped.
“What are you talking about?” Rory tried to keep his voice calm and slow, when really he just wanted to smash a fist through Cian’s arrogant face.
“First, giving out the bar number like it’s her own personal line. I don’t tolerate employees using up our phone bill like that. Then puking everywhere the moment she finishes her call. Disgusting. That girl has been nothing but a headache since I hired her. Big mistake.”
“Cian, I’m trying really hard here to control my temper, but if you say one more bad thing about Clare, I will make you regret it.” Rory clenched his fists at his sides.
“Fuck, calm down, Irish Hulk.” Cian was getting bolder, and for a moment Rory considered helping him relearn his lesson. Not tonight, he decided, Clare needed him.
“Did she say where she was going?” Rory asked Cian.
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Thanks for all your help,” Rory said sarcastically, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he left. Ace dutifully followed him.
He dialed Clare’s number, waiting as the phone rang. But it didn’t ring, it went straight to voicemail. Rory hung up and tried again once he reached the sidewalk, wondering if his reception was faulty.
Voicemail again.
Cursing, he texted her, asking her where she was. He knew the route to her home like the back of his hand, so he began walking that direction, checking his phone every few minutes to see if she had responded. His mind was racing as a flurry of different thoughts bombarded him. He had just seen her a few hours ago, yet here he was, glued to his phone waiting for her name to pop up. He had never been that way with a girl before; it was frustrating as hell.
At his brisk pace, it wasn’t long until he and Ace were in front of her apartment building pressing on the buzzer for 3B. After multiple attempts with no answer, Rory began pressing her neighbors’ buzzers, hoping that one of them would let him in.
Luckily, someone did, and he heard the door beep. He grabbed the handle and swung it open, taking the stairs two at a time. He paused in front of her door, pacing for a moment as he thought.
Running his fingers through his wavy brown hair, he began second-guessing himself. Maybe she had just gone home early. Showing up on her doorstep might make her regard him as a crazy stalker.
Or maybe she was hurt. Or ill. What if she needed help?
He exhaled loudly, looking up at the ceiling and hating his indecision. Back in his fighting days, this never would have happened. He never would have let a woman get under his skin like this, let alone hesitate about what to do. Standing in Clare’s hallway, he found himself questioning all of it. Questioning who he had become, who he was before Clare, and who he was now that she had come into his life.
“Buddy, you ring my buzzer?” An older man poked his head out from the door down the hall.
“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry, sir,” Rory responded.
“Whatcha doin’ over by Ms. Ivers, then?” he asked, suspiciously.
Rory stepped toward the man, trying not to be as intimidating as his size made him appear. He hoped that the giant, scar-covered dog trotting beside him wouldn’t intimidate him, either.
“I’m trying to find Clare. Have you seen her?”
“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend or something?”
“No, I, uh—she just left early from work. I was just checking on her is all.” Rory found himself blushing, then mentally criticized himself for it. The man had asked him a simple question, and he hadn’t known the answer. Is she my girlfriend?
“Uh-huh.” The old man was clearly not buying it. “Well, you ain’t goin’ to find her here, son. She left a while ago. Had a couple suitcases with her. Doubt she’ll be back anytime soon.”
The old man shuffled back into his apartment, closed the door. Rory’s mouth opened, shocked. He couldn’t believe that Clare would just leave. He stepped back over to her door and knocked. He had to find out for himself. After a minute of knocking with no answer, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Finding a pick he kept in there, he fiddled with the doorknob, listening carefully for the click.
A few failed attempts later, Clare’s door popped open, and Rory quickly let himself and Ace inside, then closed the door behind them.
“Clare?” he called out, his gaze roaming around her apartment.
The very first thing he saw was her cellphone on a table by the front door. He picked it up and powered it on, seeing all his missed calls appear on the screen. She had left it behind.
She didn’t want to be found.
He had been inside her place only once before, but it had been late at night and they had made a beeline for the bedroom. Even when he had left the next morning, he had been distracted and hadn’t taken the time to really see where she lived.
He wasn’t sure what he had pictured, but this certainly wasn’t it. The entire place was empty, barely a shell of a home. But not empty as though someone had left in a hurry, empty as though it never had anything in it to begin with. The kitchen had one chair up against a windowsill that was clearly used as a table.
There was a small table by the front door that held a bowl with a few keys in it, plus a random magazine. The living room had one small box television in the corner on top of a milk crate facing a futon that doubled as a couch. Farther back, only partitioned off by some folding screens he hadn’t noticed before, was the bedroom.
The bed was the one thing he remembered; it had definitely seen better days. It was flanked by a small nightstand and a dresser to one side. There was nothing on the walls, no photos or frames, no decorations of any kind.
How had I not noticed this?
He had been here before, but completely failed to pay attention to how she had been living. As he and Ace roamed the tiny place, the one thing he found that was remotely reminiscent of someone living there was a clay pot holding a small ivy plant on the bedroom windowsill. It was dark green, well fed, and the soil was moist when Rory reached in to feel it.
Guilt racked him as he sat down on her futon, feeling as if he had failed to take care of her, to give her what she needed. He had more money than he knew what to do with, and she ate her breakfast on a window ledge. Rory dropped his head, leaning his elbows on his knees as he thought about the signs he had missed.
Ace came over and sat in front of him, dropping down to the ground and making a sad, whimpering sound as he laid his head down. Rory reached down and scratched behind Ace’s ears, hoping that the small comfort would make both of them feel better.
The showers at the gym because there was only a half bath in here. The coffee and lunches she had with Casey that he always saw show up on Casey’s credit card bill, which he paid for her. He had always been one to take care of the women in his life, yet he had been completely oblivious to Clare’s needs.
And now she was gone.
Rory stood and picked up the ivy plant, taking it with him as he and Ace left the depressing apartment and walked slowly to his place on the other side of Woodlawn. He put her plant on the windowsill in his kitchen, unsure of why he had taken it. He just knew that if it had meant enough to her to care for it, he didn’t want that to be for nothing.
He had liked being with Clare; he still did. Now that she was gone, he realized that it was more than that. Sighing, he had no choice but to admit to himself that he had loved her.
He had been in love with her.
It was clear now, and he wished he had figured it out sooner. Then maybe he could have told her, instead of missing her. Now he wondered if he had ever really known her. Either way, she had left not only him, but her entire life in the Bronx. She had made sure there was no way to trace her.
She didn’t want him to find her.
She didn’t want him.
The thought was agonizing, and Rory was already in enough pain. His leg hurt him every day, but with all the new tension plaguing his body right now, the pain seemed to have doubled. It made him wonder why he had bothered going through everything he had to try to get off the prescription pills.
Rory stood in his kitchen, suddenly realizing that he didn’t have to go through that anymore. If Clare had given up on him, why shouldn’t he? He had gotten clean for her, but she had still left him.
He searched through his apartment, looking anywhere for leftover medications. Ace watched him in confusion as he tore open drawers and cabinets, hoping to find a forgotten bottle somewhere.
He had thrown everything away to be clean for her, but he was hoping that maybe he had missed something. Almost an hour later, he still came up empty. Making a mental note, he decided to ask one of the doctors who had given him prescriptions before at Legends. Or maybe ransack one of their lockers to find a prescription pad to tide him over.
He was desperate.
Melancholy overtook him as he changed his clothes and crawled into bed. Ace lay on the floor by the foot of the bed as Rory, tossing and turning for hours, let sleep find him slowly.
Chapter 15
No one had told her how cold it was in New York in late fall. Clare desperately missed the warmth and sun of California as she sat on a bench on the outskirts of Van Cortlandt Park, trying to decide what to do.
She had two suitcases filled with her clothes, plus her purse, and that was it. Her purse contained only the tips from one night’s work, and that wasn’t going to get her anywhere fast. She found herself wishing she was older: Her parents had left her a hefty sum of money in a trust fund, but she couldn’t touch it until next year, when she turned twenty-five.
Clare’s mother and father hadn’t known that they were going to pass away so early in life, leaving her stranded and at the mercy of someone like Travis for years until she could make use of her inheritance. They had meant the money to be a gift, not a means of survival, and yet now it was something much worse. Clare remembered how she had found Travis’s safe accidentally left open one evening when he was drunk.
That was the night she left.
Having access to his safe, she stole back the contract that he had made her sign, which turned her trust fund over to him when she turned twenty-five. She hadn’t really thought any of it through—how she was going to keep him from finding her, or where she was going to go.
She had just left.
A couple of people had helped her, but from what she later heard, they paid the price. Guilt swarmed through her as she contemplated what Travis might have done to them. Shaking her head at the thoughts, Clare reminded herself that that was exactly why she refused to let anyone else help her again. She was on her own, and as soon as she turned twenty-five, Travis would have nothing to hold over her anymore.
Pulling the coat around her tighter, Clare wondered what her next move should be. She had purposely left behind her phone and any possible way of finding her. She couldn’t risk Travis’s using anything to track her down. It was better that she left now, not knowing where to go.
If she didn’t know where she was going, Travis wouldn’t, either.
Seemed like sound reasoning, until the cold began biting through her thin jacket. Pulling herself up, Clare grabbed her bags and headed toward the Bronx River Parkway to find a bus stop. Still racking her brain about where to go, she played through the list of possibilities.
She could try to go back to California, but she had no family there and Travis had certainly made sure to get rid of all her friends. Plus he would definitely find her there; it was his turf.
Although, apparently, he could find her anywhere.
Sniffing, Clare tried to push the fear out of her mind.
The friend who had sublet the apartment to her was out of the question; Clare didn’t know her that well anyway. She was the daughter of friends of her late parents. Anyway, Travis had clearly figured out that avenue.
That was her entire history, her entire network of people. All summed up in fewer than the fingers on one hand. Approaching the bus stop, Clare realized she had no options left.
This was it.
She was alone.
“Clare? What are you doing at a bus stop?” Or maybe I’m not alone, Clare thought, as she turned to find the voice’s origin.
“Casey, hi…” She fumbled awkwardly with her words, trying not to meet Casey’s eyes as the tall redhead sauntered up to her.
“You know, Rory’s been blowing up all of our phones tonight looking for you?”
“He has?” She felt more guilty by the second.
“And here you are, at a bus stop, with a bunch of luggage.” Casey’s statement definitely sounded more like a question. “Did you guys get in a fight or something?”
“What? No!” Clare said hurriedly.
It was bad enough that she felt guilty for leaving; she couldn’t handle people thinking it was Rory’s fault on top of all that.
“I just need to get out of town”—Clare bit her lip nervously—“at least for a while. Please don’t tell Rory.”
“Why not? I’m your friend, Clare, but I’m Rory’s family first. And to think I was worried Rory would be the one to break your heart. If you just up and leave him for no reason in the middle of the night, I don’t think he will come back from that. He’s been through too much already.”
“I just don’t have another choice. I don’t want to hurt him—that’s why I need to leave. Believe me, Casey, he is in danger if I stay.” Clare felt tears beginning to threaten.
Casey pushed her hands into her pockets, carefully surveying her. Clare gulped anxiously, hoping Casey would give up and leave. Her friend’s eyes were narrow and calculating, telling her that she might not get that wish.
“Come on, you’re coming to my place.” Casey stepped forward and grabbed one of Clare’s suitcases, then carried it off with her.
Clare jumped up in surprise. She needed that luggage—it contained all she had left in the world. But Casey was moving swiftly. Frustrated, Clare followed her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a big deal. Worst-case scenario, she decided, she could leave in the morning.
Ten minutes later, Clare was sitting on Casey’s couch while her friend opened a bottle of wine in the kitchen behind her. She was grateful to be somewhere warm, and she had to admit that her feet were tired from working all day. The soft, plush couch was definitely inviting.
“Here you go—some red wine to make you talk.” Casey smiled at her, handing her a freshly poured glass.
“Thank you.” Clare accepted the wine, sipping gratefully. “But there isn’t anything to talk about.”
“Clare, either you talk to me now or I’ll call Rory.”
“Some friend you are,” Clare scoffed, more than a little annoyed.
“The worst. Now talk.”
Clare studied Casey over the rim of her wineglass as she took a few more sips. Finally, she concluded that she really didn’t have a choice; Casey wasn’t going to drop the issue until she knew what was going on.
Now she just had to figure out what to tell her, and how much.
“Casey, I’m not trying to hide things or be dishonest. I promise. It’s just that by telling you or Rory, it puts you guys in the line of fire. And this is my fight. I don’t want anyone else hurt because of it.” Clare hoped to reason with Casey as a last resort.
“Girl, listen, I may be only twenty-one, but I’m no stranger to this. I teach a self-defense class, which has given me a pretty good sense of why you enrolled. Maybe I don’t know the specific details, but I’ve known since the day I met you that you’re running from something or someone.”
“You have?” Clare frowned.
“Yeah, we all are. Everyone has demons. Some are in our heads, some are in our pasts. Others have a pulse and are lurking around in our futures.”
“Which one are you?”
“All of them?” Casey paced her kitchen. “My whole family died in a fire when I was four years old. My older brothers, Declan and Liam, were born around the same time as Rory and Quinn. My dad was Seamus’s brother.”
“I’m so sorry, Case.”
“Yeah, it’s been awful. Rory and his brothers and their parents have all been my only family since then. They took me in right away. Plus, after everything Rory did to save me—well, that’s why I can’t have you hurting him. I can’t let you just run off without telling him why.”
“Wait—what do you mean, save you? What does the fire have to do with Rory?”
“He’s the only reason I’m alive. Our house was right next to his; our dads did everything together like that. He saw the fire from his bedroom window. He was eleven years old when he pulled me out of the house.” Casey finished the last of her wine and got up to pour herself more.
Clare felt tears stinging her eyes as she thought of Rory, everything he had been through and everything he had done. He had told her about the fire, but never once had he mentioned his role in saving his cousin’s life. The thought of him as a little boy facing such a terrifying ordeal was heartbreaking.
She realized then and there that Rory was like that: He didn’t want appreciation or gratitude; he just wanted to help. He spent all his free time volunteering at a shelter, and Clare was the only person in his life who knew. He was training his brother and he had saved his cousin, and he never once asked for a thank-you.
Clare’s chest suddenly felt heavy and tears wet her cheeks as she put her glass down on the coffee table, doubling over to drop her head between her knees. She was trying to regain her breath, but ended up beginning to sob instead. Casey appeared at her side almost instantly, rubbing her back gently.
“Clare, it’s okay, it’s over. Why are you crying?”
“I love him.” She stared up at Casey, realizing that it was true. She knew it now without a doubt, and the thought terrified her.
“We all know that.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m in love with Rory.” Clare sniffed back her tears, calming down as she realized that she sounded a little hysterical.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes! It is! He will find me, he will know I love someone else, and he will hurt him. It will all be my fault.” She dropped her head into her hands again.
“Who? What? Slow down, Clare.”
“Travis Creighton—he called me at O’Leary’s. He knows where I am and he’s coming for me. This is such a fucking mess!” Clare started crying again, feeling frustrated with everything.
Just when she realized that love had been staring at her this whole time, she was going to lose it.
“Is Travis the one you’ve been running from?”
Clare nodded her head.
“You don’t have to tell me any more, but we definitely need to call Rory. He’ll know what to do.”
“But Travis is so jealous—you don’t understand. Rory would be in danger if he got involved. Travis has a serious temper; he’s always high on something.”
“Clare, stop. Have you met Rory? He’s not easily frightened. At the very least, don’t you think he can decide for himself if he wants to be involved or not?”
Clare thought about that for a second, then slowly nodded in agreement. She hadn’t really thought about it that way before. She knew that Rory could handle himself, but she was worried he would feel forced to help if she asked him. Casey was right though: Rory did what he wanted; no one could make him do anything.
Not even her.
Casey got up and grabbed her phone out of the bedroom, then called Rory. Clare watched in apprehension, sipping some more wine and pushing herself as far back into the couch as she could. She grabbed a blanket from the edge of the couch and wrapped it around her legs, feeling comforted at the tight hold. She took a few deep breaths and wiped at the tears under her eyes.
“He’s not answering his phone.” Casey frowned. “I’ll keep trying to call him, but in the meantime, the second bedroom is yours. I never bothered to replace my roommate when she moved out a few months ago, so why don’t you stay here for now?”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out like that.”
“Clare, you’re staying here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And to think, I’m the baby here,” Casey teased her.
–
Rory rolled over onto his back in bed, staring at the clock on the nightstand. He was due to be at Legends soon to train Kane, which was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and then stared up at the ceiling, wondering what the point of getting out of bed was.
