It’s impossible to hold on to my anger when he reminds me of a kicked puppy. The thing is that while this is definitely the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, I can one hundred percent see how Perry would have made that mistake. He doesn’t exactly think things through, and that can’t be one of the things I like about him if I’m also holding it against him. I sort of feel like I get a pass in this scenario, but the more pathetic Perry looks, the more I soften to him.

“Don’t.”

He steps closer. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t make me feel bad for you. If I get the sympathy in any situation, it’s this one.”

“Right. Yes. Sympathy.” He cups the side of my jaw with my ruined ear. “I just want to point out though, that everyone loves battle scars.”

“Not the person with them.”

“They’re sexy. Interesting.” He releases my jaw to touch his own bullet wound. “And now we match.”

“We match. What a relief.”

He misses my sarcasm. “And when we’re old and married, we’ll be able to tell everyone the story of how we met. Of our … meet shoot.”

I blink at him. “Don’t try and turn this into a sweet moment.”

“How I knew instantly that I couldn’t kill you.”

“Ah. So we’re going to turn our how we met moment into a story of how you committed a crime and got away with it.”

“Almost committed a crime.”

“Sorry, do you somehow think shooting a man in the ear isn’t illegal?”

“Well … only if you’re … caught.”

I give him a blank look, and the hopeful one I get back is too much. “You’re making this up to me,” I say, hating how easily I’m folding over something I should be holding against him for all time. “Later. For the rest of our lives, probably.”

His grin springs to life. “That almost sounds like a proposal.”

“Yeah, well, now we know that I’m actually okay and not at all being hunted, I guess we’re fifty percent closer to that being a possibility.” Because, what the actual fuck? This is … this is so beyond the realm of fucking anything that I really don’t know what else to say. All week, I’ve been running and hiding and stressed for my life … for no goddamn reason.

“I need to sit down.” I’m almost numb with relief as I sink into the nearest armchair.

“I need a drink,” Lars says. “A big, strong drink.”

“Hold on there, handsome,” Arlie says. “This guy might be okay, but we haven’t solved the Colin issue.”