His mouth curves immediately. “Oh yeah? Because they’re fast, athletic, highly respected—”
I snort into my wine, interrupting him. “No. Because they think they’re the fastest thing in the room.”
His brows lift and I take a sweet sip. “But they’re really not.”
“…Wow.” He leans back in his chair, gesturing his hand over the table. “After everything I’ve done.”
I laugh as I put down my glass softly back on the table. “Okay,” I say after a second. “But let’s do a real date question.”
He rolls his shoulders, pushes his sleeves a little higher, the watch around his wrist moving with him. “Let’s do it.”
“What are your plans for the future?”
He laughs at first, like he expects it to be a joke, then he settles back in his chair and actually thinks about it.
“Finish school,” he says. “Then I want to do the trainer program. Which is basically just supporting rookies with all the physical training.”
I narrow my eyes, processing it. “So… like a teacher?”
“Kind of.” He tilts his head once. “More like a coach, I would say.”
“That fits,” I say, nodding. “I can totally picture you yelling motivational insults at twenty-year-olds.”
He snorts. “That’s the only reason.”
I tilt my head. “What do you like most about it so far? Police training, I mean.”
He looks down at his glass for a second, then back up at me, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “You want the real answer?”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning forward slightly. “Or are you about to say something like ‘catching bad guys and driving fast cars.’”
“No,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “It just feels good knowing I can actually help people.” He shrugs. “Especially after what happened with Norman.”
Something in my chest tightens at that.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to be scared of the person who’s supposed to just love you. I’ve seen his dad—or Norman—a few times. He never said much. Just stood there with that hard, closed-off look, like he didn’t really want to be in the room. I remember always feeling relieved when Ryan ended up back at our house instead. And I know that he drank too much, that he had a temper. But we’ve neveractuallytalked about it.
“Well,” I say finally. “For what it’s worth… I think it’s pretty impressive you took all that shit and turned it into something good instead of, you know—” I gesture vaguely. “Becoming him.”
He looks at me like he wasn’t expecting that. Then his expression softens. “Thanks.”
And then, right on cue, the smirk comes back. “But yeah. Catching bad guys and fast cars did do it for me.”
That makes me laugh softly and at that exact moment, the waitress places our dishes in front of us. We thank her at the same time and then Ryan looks up at me again.
“What about you? What’s the best part of nursing so far?”
I shrug. “Kind of the same as you to be honest. I just like being there for people when they need it.”
He nods, wearing an expression that shows he’s really listening, so I keep going. “I’ve always wanted to do it. Even when we were kids.”
His mouth curves. “Yeah. I remember that.”
Geez—does he remember everything?
“You carried around a whole first-aid kit,” he says, smiling like he’s watching it happen again. “Bandages, wipes, even those tiny scissors. One time I scraped my knee and you wrapped it up like it was an actual emergency. Had me sit down, checked my pulse, told me not to move.”
“Oh my God, yeah I did.” I laugh, taking my first bite as the memory clicks into place. “I just felt so cool. Like I could save all the world’s problems with a bandage and some wipes.”
