“Are we good?” “Yeah, we’re good.” “What was all that about the other night?” He strikes a match and sets it inside. “Nothing.” “Didn’t sound like nothing.” I tear open the cake mix package and dump it into the bowl the kitchen supplied me with. “Henry thinks you have feelings for me. I told him we’re just friends,” I say as casually as possible. Ronan says nothing. “I’m right... right?” “We’re just friends.” He sighs, resting his palms on the top of the woodstove. “And yeah, I have feelings for you.”
