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21 TABBY fter a tense elevator ride during which we both said nothing and tried to pretend nothing had happened, we come downstairs to find Ryan doing pushups in the middle of the lobby floor. Connor stops several feet away and crosses his arms over his chest. “Working off some steam, brother?” “Fifty,” Ryan grunts. He’s breathing a little harder than normal but doesn’t look as if he’s exerting himself all that much. I’d bet good money he could easily do another fifty more without breaking a sweat. With a pointed look at Connor, he says, “I could ask you the same question, brother.” He glances at me and then goes back to his pushups. “Oh, for f**k’s sake!” I say, aggravated because we’re so obvious. I set my hands on my hips and huff out a breath. Ryan stops at the top of a pushup a
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