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“Because I wasn’t going to send you out with Mr. Tafta,” O’Shea admitted. “Andy, I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” he said. “I need you to forget everything you’ve heard in the last twenty minutes and not kick me out of the seminary program.”

“As I’ve told you previously, a person’s past has no bearing on their eligibility for priesthood.” The monsignor’s face was still creased with obvious concern as he looked at Andy. “If you still wish to—”

“I do,” Andy interrupted. “Trevor, please tell him that I’m fine so we can go.”

I had no idea what was up with him. He’d never been so rude to anyone as far as I knew. But as I stared at him I realized that there were deep lines in his face, between his eyebrows, around his lips and eyes…he was clearly in pain which couldn’t be helping the situation.

“Sir,” I said, turning back to O’Shea. “It’s been a rough couple days, and while I’d love to assure you that we’re all fine and everything will be sunshine and rainbows going forward…I won’t lie to you. But Andy needs to take a pill and get some sleep. If you’d like to finish this conversation later, I can promise you that we will come back.”

“No,” O’Shea said, his expression softening as he raked his gaze over me. “I think I have my answer, Mr. Hix. Please try to keep from engaging with Mr. Tafta again.”

“I can promise that, as well,” I told him, nodding as I stood and helped Andy to his feet. “Come on, Princess.”

“Don’t do that,” Andy complained.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

I opened the door for him and was grateful to see that Mark and Coach Tine were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t want to deal with round two after promising O’Shea that I’d behave.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I said, leading Andy outside.

“Not tonight, dear, I have a headache.”

“Oh you’re fucking hilarious.”

If he wasn’t in so much pain already, I might actually consider throttling him. But I just hooked my arm through his and walked him back to his apartment. He’d been through quite enough for one day without me piling on.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

~Andy~

I woke up confused and sore, with a warm weight pressed over me. I managed to get both of my eyes open, which was great, and I realized that I was in my bed, still fully dressed, with Trevor next to me, his arm slung over my chest.

“Stay there,” he mumbled. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“I need to piss,” I said, pushing him away and sitting up. “I don’t think you can help me with that.”

“I mean, if you need me to hold it for you,” he offered through a yawn.

“I can manage.” I chuckled softly as I pushed myself to my feet. “Christ, what time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “Piss and come back to bed. You need to rest.”

“I don’t always like it when you’re bossy,” I complained, shuffling out into the dark apartment toward the bathroom.

I didn’t bother looking at the clock on my way back to bed. Trevor was right, I needed more sleep. I felt almost as bad as I had the night Mark beat the crap out of me.

As I settled in next to Trevor again, he pulled me gently into his chest and ran his hand down my arm.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I went ten rounds with a tight end,” I admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you.”

“Shh…” he whispered. “We don’t have to do that now.”

“Yes, I do,” I said. “If I had just told you then maybe I wouldn’t have been humiliated in front of O’Shea today. I just…I didn’t want you to be mad at Mark.”