Page 83 of Lock Up the Darkness

I smiled out at him. “I get it.”

“Plus, you know, you’re not too bad to look at either.”

I slapped his hand off my arm and he laughed.

Then he eased back and snatched up a couple of my comic books, taking in the covers. “All Nightwing, huh? He’s your favorite, or you just brought out that collection?”

“Both.”

“How come?” he asked, as he flipped through the pages of Prodigal, a crossover with Batman.

“What?”

“Why is he your favorite?”

“I like that he’s human, but he’s accomplished so much and become one of the most beloved and competent heroes in the DC universe. He’s learned all those skills through a shit-ton of practice, hard work and crazy-level determination. He’s one of the greatest—if not the greatest—fighters. He was Batman’s right-hand, then he made his own way and came out from under his shadow to shine on his own.”

He stopped flipping through the pages and zeroed in on me. “Like you and your dad?”

I looked away. “Maybe a little.”

An awkward silence descended as the weight of it all, me and my dad, took me over. With my injured state, the meds… it wasn’t as easy as usual for me to just simply shake it off.

Thankfully, my phone buzzed, cutting through it.

I picked it up to see yet another text.

Asher: Don’t give him hard liquor. It makes an angry drunk out of him. Beer only.

Aurora: Noted. He’s fine.

I rolled my eyes and put my phone down.

“What?” he asked.

I blew out a breath. “Just Asher.”

“Wondering if I’m here?”

“He already predicted it. He was just telling me how to handle you.”

“Is that so?”

“Something about a bowl of ice-cream with syrup and only beer for alcoholic refreshments.”

“Well, it’s manipulative, but accurate.”

“I don’t actually have any ice-cream.”

“Really? None?”

“No, I don’t like it.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s too cold.”

He busted out laughing. “Wow, you’re the first person I’ve ever come across who doesn’t like a food staple.”

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