But suddenly Ramsey’s there, pushing Conlan
aside, and as nonchalantly as I can, I lift the napkin from the
tray. “Go wait down there,” Ramsey says, angry. Conlan hesitates,
but Ramsey gives him a hard shove down the corridor, away from me.
“Go on.”
Conlan doesn’t argue, but he’s still looking
at my hand, the napkin I’m holding, and he doesn’t move until I
clench it tight in a fist. While Ramsey glares at him, I slip my
hand behind my back, tuck the napkin into the waistband of my
pants. “Jeremy,” Ramsey warns again. “I said—”
“I heard you.” There’s no malice in
Conlan’s voice as he drifts further down the corridor, hovers where
I can just see him if I turn. How can he talk like that to Ramsey,
who terrifiesme, and not have the balls to stand up to
Ellington? Who’s like a big brother,I think,
overprotective, he won’t even let you make your own
mistakes.
Ramsey scowls at me. Crossing his arms in
front of his chest, he stares until I can’t even swallow, I can