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Me: Is it Kat? Is she okay?
Savannah: Sure she is. She’s eating with Shay and Victoria.
Thank fuck for that.
Me: Then what’s the problem? And don’t scare me like that!
Savannah: Didn’t mean to. I need you to tell Aidan that you won’t get Conor killed.
My brows lifted.
Me: Are you drunk?
Savannah: Maybe a little.
Me: FML
Me: I won’t get Conor killed.
Me: He’s still alive.
I snapped a shot of him and sent it to her. At Conor’s frown, I muttered, “Apparently, Aidan thinks I’m going to get you killed.”
“They have such little faith in me,” he grumbled.
“I think I’m the problem.”
Me: See? Alive.
Savannah: Then why is he telling Aidan that Dagda’s been shot?
Me: Because he has been.
Me: But Conor hasn’t. Look, I have to go. Sober up or you’ll have a killer headache in the morning.
Savannah: I don’t know why but I’m glad you’re back.
Me: I can feel your love across the state.
Savannah: Good. Bitch. Now, answer my other texts.
Ignoring her last message and turning to Conor, I let loose a heavy exhalation. “Everything okay?”
“No one’s incoming. We’re still safe.”
“Good. That’s a relief.”
He snagged my hand and, with the other, tucked something into my fingers, saying, “Here.”
My lips twitched at the candy corn he’d slipped me. As I eyed the bag that he rattled like a maraca, I asked, “This is to keep me perked up?”
“Fitting considering what just happened.” Something slithered into his eyes, something that had me accepting the candy and popping it between my lips.
“I don’t want you to say yes or no,” he murmured. “I just want you to wear something for me. Would you do that?”
“What is it?” was my wary reply.
Conor snorted. “It’s not a gimp suit or anything like that.”
