Page 226 of Lodestar

For someone who hated being at odds with her, I did it often. The last couple years of talking shit through with Conor made me wonder if I tested her—tested everyone in my life if I were being honest—because I was just waiting for them to abandon me.

And when they did, instead of getting hurt, I could be like, ‘See, I knew they wouldn’t stick around.’

The glimpse into my nature made me fidget, until Conor rumbled, “Think Savannah needs to use the bathroom.”

His insight had me hiding a laugh. “Think that’s less to do with constipation and more with her being mad at me for ghosting her.”

How was that my voice? I sounded like I’d choked on a frog.

“Ah, well. You’re getting good at asking for forgiveness. Say that you’re sorry and mean it and I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“You’re more generous than she is.”

He snorted and curved his arm around me as he guided us toward the front door. “You’re my penguin. I can’t be at odds with you. Where would the logic be in that?”

“We’re not penguins,” I pointed out. “We’re very much humans. Not birds.”

Rolling his eyes, he groused, “Of course, you’d be one of the freaks who never watchedFriends. What is it with you and pop culture?”

“I saw one episode and wanted to shoot myself. That dude shouting, ‘Pivot,’ was so fucking annoying.” I chuckled at his gasp of outrage. “Plus, I don’t even watch the show, and I remember that blonde chick was talking about lobsters.”

“Huh?”

“She did. She was talking about lobsters, which, by the way, don’t mate for life so that makes even less sense because, at least, penguins do.”

He scratched his chin. “I’m still calling you my penguin.”

“Well, yeah, but that makes sense because theydomate for life.” I sniffed. “Anyway, I don’t hate pop culture.” I smirked. “I hatewrongpop culture. I just avoid the rest at all costs.”

“You really are the antichrist.”

“Admitting to not watchingFriendswas what it took to figure that out?”

“There’s just no helping some people.” Pitifully, he shook his head but tapped his finger against my nose. As I swatted it away, he continued, “Savannah loves you. She won’t be mad for long.”

Nodding, I mumbled, “I’m used to her being pissy with me. That’s how we spent most of our fourteenth year on this damn planet.”

He snorted but fell silent as Aoife appeared in the doorway and finally opened it up.

Cin, ever polite, asked, “Did you make brownies?”

Because Aoife hadn’t been raised in a barn, she frowned, her gaze switching between Conor, whom she knew, and the strange person she’d never met who was asking for baked goods. “Well, yes, but they’re for dessert?—”

“Dessert makes a great appetizer,” was Cin’s cheerful retort. “Can I have one, please?”

“Yeah, um, sure.” Aoife frowned at Conor. “Conor, who is this?”

He shot her a happy grin that twisted my heart into a knot. That happiness was because of me. It fucked with my head that I was the source of that joy.

“This is Star,” he greeted. Aoife and I shared a smile. Hers was polite but not unwelcoming, and mine was strained. “That’s D—” He paused. “Cin.”

“Cin?” Aoife’s frown deepened. “Is it ‘D’ or Cin? People tend to have the same initial, Conor.”

“I’m Cin. D is my nickname. But it’s for people I’ve kicked ass with.”

“Oh.” The other woman blinked. “You’re like Eoghan. Come in.” What kind of family was I about to walk into when ‘handles’ were dinner table conversation and an ice breaker?

I guessed inviting spies into her house was totally an everyday occurrence for Aoife O’Grady.

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