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“My boss. That’s got to be tough, for both of us.”
“Yes, sometimes, but usually we work well together, spark off each other.”
She looked thoughtful, nodded. “Know what I think? Sounds to me like I’m the brain and you’re the brawn.”
He laughed. “Sometimes. I think we’re each a little of both.”
She said nothing for a moment, then, “I wish I could see my mom and dad’s faces, see what Sean eats for breakfast.”
“He eats Cheerios, one sliced banana on top. He’s asking for a three-speed bike for his birthday, which he won’t get, of course, but he will get his favorite birthday cake—chocolate.
“I’ll show you a photo of you with your parents, okay?” He saw her chew this over. This was uncharted territory and he hated it, felt like a blind man trying to feel his way.
She nodded, rubbed her forehead. “It just hit me. I’m really pretty tired, Dillon.”
Savich kissed her forehead. “We’ve both had a long day. Let’s get ourselves some sleep.” He put their phones on the chargers and switched off the bedside lamp.
They lay side by side on their backs. After a couple of minutes of dead silence, Sherlock said, “This feels weird.”
“Yes, but weird is what we’ve got. Weird is okay for now, don’t worry.”
“Okay.” She leaned toward him, kissed his cheek. Neither of them said anything. She wished the bedside lamp with its thirty watts was on, she wanted to see his expression, but then again, she really didn’t know what she wanted to see. She whispered, “Good night, Dillon. Thank you for having my back.”
