Page 78 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Then probably not.”

There was a knock. Elliot looked toward the door. His face emptied. Ronan recognized the transformation. The private Elliot disappeared. By the time Ronan opened the door, the golden boy had returned. Dylan stood beneath the porch light. He looked like shit. Gray hoodie. Unshaven. Eyes bloodshot. For once, no easy smile.

“Hey.”

“Come in.”

Dylan stepped inside. Elliot appeared behind Ronan. His voice softened instantly.

“You okay?”

Dylan looked at him. Some of the tension in his face loosened.

“Not really.”

Elliot nodded. No sarcasm. No jealousy. Just concern.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Beer?”

“Yeah.”

“Please.”

Elliot walked toward the kitchen. Dylan watched him go. Then looked at Ronan.

“Your brother is being nice to me.”

“Stepbrother.”

“Whatever.”

Dylan lowered his voice.

“Should I be scared?”

Ronan almost laughed. Instead his eyes moved toward Elliot. He stood at the refrigerator with his back to them. Perfect posture. Perfectly calm. The same man who had threatened Dylan's fingers less than two weeks earlier.

“No,” Ronan said.

The answer came automatically. Because Elliot was Elliot. Jealous. Possessive. Difficult. Sweet when he wanted to be. Cruel when he was angry. A thousand contradictions Ronan understood better than anyone. Elliot returned carrying the beer. He held it out. Dylan took it.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Their fingers didn't touch. Elliot made sure of that. Ronan noticed. Dylan didn't. They ate twenty minutes later. For the first few minutes nobody mentioned Lucas. Then Elliot asked gently, “What did the police say?” Dylan stared at his plate.

“Not much.”

“You told them he thought someone was following him?”

Ronan looked at Elliot. Dylan did too.

“How'd you know that?”

Elliot's eyes moved toward Ronan.