“You’re not going to give me your shirt too?” It’s lighthearted enough to cool my boiling blood. Lo’s reddened eyes flicker to me like it’s okay. It’s not. I don’t like seeing him hurt, not even for a fucking millisecond, and if it had to be someone, I’d rather it have been me. “Next time, darling,” Connor says. “I just had this dry-cleaned.” He passes him the water bottle. “We’ll meet you at your place.”
