Page 145 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Yes.”

“You disappear. You lie. Police keep coming back. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Trust me.”

“I do.”

“No, you don't.”

“I do.”

“Then stop asking.”

“That isn't trust. That's stupidity.”

The sentence landed hard. Elliot's mouth opened. Nothing came out. Ronan regretted it immediately. Again. He was getting good at regret.

“Elliot.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

He turned toward the stairs. Ronan followed.

“Don't walk away.”

“Why? So you can ask where I'm going?”

“Stop.”

“Bedroom. Second floor. You can check the location if you want.”

“Fuck you.”

Elliot turned on the third stair. His face had changed. Anger finally broke through the control.

“Maybe later, if I'm allowed to leave the house without filing a fucking itinerary first.”

Ronan stared. For one second, the absurdity almost made him laugh. Then Elliot disappeared upstairs. A door slammed. Ronan stood at the bottom of the staircase. Silence returned. He hated it. Dinner at their parents' house lasted twenty-seven minutes. Elliot barely spoke. Rebecca noticed immediately. Of course.

“You two fighting?”

“No,” Elliot said.

“Yes,” Ronan said.

Their mother looked between them. Thomas continued cutting his steak.

“Wonderful.”

“About what?” Rebecca asked.

“Nothing,” Elliot said.

Ronan closed his eyes. Rebecca frowned.