“What the fuck was that?” he asks. I cringe and rub my shoulder. “Abuse?” “Back at the house. Did you really jump off a roof?” “Aww, Brando, you do care.” He scowls and points at himself. “Risk manager. I’m the risk manager—of course I care. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that would have been if you fell and broke your neck?” “What I’m hearing is …” I say as I loop an arm around his neck. “You were scared I’d come to bodily harm, and you were worried for me. So sweet.”
