But I didn’t cope like that anymore.

I had grown up. I had matured.

Though I didn’t understand why seeing the Berettis now, after all this time, had made me feel like I was still that useless little girl with no prospects and no future. Even after I had proven to myself that I wasn’t. That I could do something with my life.

I clutched the plastic bags in my hands and hurried across the campus, not seeing anything. My eyes a blur of unshed tears that I refused to let fall.

I approached Flynn’s office and stopped before going through the door. He was at his desk, bent over a pile of papers, dark hair falling into his face. He was frowning and chewing on his lip as his pen moved in agitated lines.

I stared at him long and hard. My heart that thudded steadily and painfully in my chest reacted instantly to his proximity. The lingering self-hatred, the enduring resentment and bitterness bled out onto the floor. It had no place here. Not with him.

And then I was smiling.

I softly knocked on his open door, indicating my presence. Flynn looked up, a strand of hair falling in his eyes and he absently pushed it back.

“You’re on time,” Flynn said, glancing at the clock on his wall.

“You sound surprised,” I teased, stepping into the office and closing the door behind me.

“I am surprised. You’re late a lot,” Flynn said, never, ever pulling any punches. I chuckled and set the grocery bags down on the chair beside me.

“How’s your day going?” I asked, finding that the last of my jangled nerves began to fade. I was able to get air into my lungs.

Life was tangled and twisted. It was vicious and violent. It could crush you in its merciless grip before you ever had a chance to live.

And he was my safety in the nightmare.

“Good. I was able to finish the clay pot I had been working on. My sculpting foundations class liked it and they didn’t ask too many questions. That was nice,” Flynn answered, putting his pen down and turning on the lamp beside his desk.

“Aren’t students supposed to ask questions? Isn’t that the point of teaching them?” I asked, opening up the first bag and pulled out the items purchased in the throes of my Beretti induced panic.

I laid out cold pasta with pesto and tomato, a few bags of potato chips, a bar of chocolate and a container of sushi. Looking at the food I knew there was very little, aside from the chips and chocolate, that Flynn would eat. Major girlfriend fail.

“I don’t like questions. They’re usually ridiculous and if people took the time to actually listen, they’d know the answers already,” Flynn responded and I couldn’t fault his logic.

He looked down at the food on his desk and frowned. “This is what you brought for us to eat?” he asked, picking up the container of sushi and making a face.

I opened up the second grocery bag and was relieved that I had had the sense to pick up a ham and cheese sandwich. Nice to see I had done something right.

“Here. You’ll eat this right?” I asked, handing him the sandwich. Flynn opened it up and peeled back the bread.

“Yes. I’ll eat this. Though I don’t know why I couldn’t have just brought a chicken salad sandwich. We could have eaten those instead of this stuff,” Flynn said, throwing the plastic wrap in the trash.

“But then you wouldn’t have all of this,” I pointed out.

Flynn grunted and took a bite of the sandwich. “This is good. I like it,” he said and I felt a silly bit of pride at being able to pick out something that he liked.

I started eating the sushi, which was borderline disgusting. But I ate it anyway.

We sat together in companionable silence, neither requiring conversation the way some people do. We weren’t the sort of people to fill silence with meaningless chitchat. Our quiet said more than any words ever could.

“I decided to pick up a few shifts at JAC’s to make some money until something else comes along,” I told Flynn, cringing slightly.

“Why did you make that face?” Flynn asked before taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Did I make a face?” I asked lightly, sometimes hating how observant he was, even if he didn’t always understand exactly what he saw.

“Yes, you made a face when you said you were going to work at JACs. Are you not happy about it?” he asked, reading me like a book.

I sighed and put the empty sushi container back in the grocery bag. “I just feel like I’m moving backwards instead of forwards.”

“How is that possible? I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Flynn said, looking confused.

“I just mean that’s where I was working when I lived here before. I had hoped that I’d be doing something else by now.”

“And it’s bad to work there again,” Flynn surmised.

“It’s not bad. Just not what I want,” I admitted, feeling like Flynn was pulling truth out of me with pliers.

“Then don’t work there. Wait until you get a better job,” he said, as though it were the easiest thing in the world.

I laughed without humor. “I need money, Flynn. I can’t live off rainbows and fairy dust,” I stated sarcastically, knowing he wouldn’t catch it.

“Fairy dust doesn’t exist. That’s a dumb thing to say, Ellie,” Flynn responded, looking irritated with my efforts at joking.

“I just mean I’m almost out of money and I need to be working. I can’t sit around your house all day.”