“Okay,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. His face lights up. “Okay?” “Yes, okay.” I give him a shaky nod, a bit dazed. “I’ll take it. If I’m pissed at you again, which I will be, then I won’t ignore you.” “Good,” he says softly, sincerely. But then, in true Holden Becker fashion, he ruins the moment. “And you missed me, too, right?” “Don’t push your luck, Beck.”
