Obsessed

Chapter 62

The evening had settled in warm and quiet, the sky outside a cool gradient of lavender and charcoal. The soft hum of the dishwasher blended with the crackle of something cooking on the stovetop. Ronnie and Mark stood in the kitchen, barefoot, the overhead lights casting a soft golden hue on the counters.

The table was half-set, plates stacked on one end, silverware clinking softly as Ronnie straightened each fork with surgical precision. Mark stood at the kitchen island, tossing together a salad—though he looked more interested in eating it than mixing it.

Ronnie glanced up from placing the napkins. “I still can’t believe he got into a fight.”

Mark barely looked up as he reached into the salad bowl and popped a cucumber slice into his mouth. “I can.”

Ronnie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m just saying,” Mark said around the crunch, “bullies suck. Someone’s gotta stand up to them.”

“He’s suspended, Mark. For a day.”

Mark leaned on the counter, expression calm. “And? He stood up for someone who couldn’t. That’s what matters.”

Ronnie placed her hands on her hips. “With his fists?”

Mark shrugged. “Not saying he should go around hitting people—but if someone throws the first punch, he’s got every right to finish it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, returning to the table. She adjusted a placemat unnecessarily, more to keep her hands busy than to fix anything.

“He almost broke the kid’s nose,” she added. “Thankfully, the parents aren’t pressing charges.”

Mark let out a soft scoff, tossing another cucumber slice into his mouth like it was nothing. “They shouldn’t. Their kid started it. Theo was just finishing it.”

Ronnie turned slowly to face him, arms folded tightly across her chest. “You can’t just solve things with violence.”

“Not everything,” Mark said. “But some things? Yeah, sometimes words don’t work. Sometimes, the only language a bully understands is a cracked lip.”

She exhaled sharply and returned to stacking glasses. “Well, now I have to bring him to work tomorrow. I called Reynolds—he said it was okay—but still.”

Mark wiped his hands on a dish towel and stepped around the island. Ronnie didn’t move as he approached. Her eyes followed him cautiously, the way they did when she was still trying to hold onto frustration like it was armor.

He stopped in front of her and gently cupped her face in both hands.

“Ronnie,” he said softly, “it’s going to be alright.”

She wanted to stay mad. She really did.

But the warmth in his eyes, the faint smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, and the way his thumbs brushed against her cheeks like she was something delicate he couldn’t risk dropping—it all chipped away at her irritation faster than she liked.

Mark dipped down and kissed her gently, lingering but not pushing on her forehead. When he pulled away, Ronnie let out a low growl of frustration.

“I hate when you do that.”

His smirk widened. “Why?”

“Because I want to stay mad at you, but I can’t when you kiss me like that.”

Mark leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Ronnie sighed and rested her forehead against his chest, arms wrapping loosely around his waist. “You’re the worst.”

He kissed the top of her head. “And yet, here you are. Hugging me.”

“Out of obligation,” she muttered.

“Sure,” he murmured, holding her tighter. “I believe that.”

The door creaked open, and Theo’s footsteps padded across the hardwood floor with a rhythm that suggested he was already bored. He plopped himself down at the table.

“Are we eating or are we just arguing tonight?” he asked dryly, glancing between the two of them.

Ronnie pulled away from Mark with an exasperated sigh and walked over to the oven to check on the baked ziti. “Nice to see you too, Theodore.”

Mark chuckled under his breath. “We’re having dinner. Promise. No more arguing.”

Theo raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Is it about me?”

“Of course it’s about you,” Ronnie said, pulling out the casserole dish and setting it on a cork mat with a dramatic thud. “You almost broke someone’s nose today.”

Theo huffed and crossed his arms. “It was an accident. Kind of.”

Ronnie shot him a look.

Mark sat down next to him. “Look, bud, I’m not saying violence is the answer, alright?”

Theo tilted his head. “But?”

“But sometimes it’s the only thing that gets a bully to back off.”

Ronnie made a strangled noise from the kitchen.

Mark grinned and raised his hands innocently. “Just sayin’. He didn’t start it.”

Theo smirked at him like he was a co-conspirator. “Thank you.”

Ronnie walked over with a serving spoon and pointed it at both of them. “You two are not allowed to team up on me. You are both impossible.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. “You love us.”

She rolled her eyes and served dinner in silence for a moment, tension cooling into something domestic and familiar. Theo watched them with a suspicious expression.

“So,” he said slowly, twirling a noodle around his fork. “You two kissed again.”

Ronnie paused mid-bite, eyes narrowing. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you were mad, and now you’re not. Which means he kissed you.”

Mark didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Kid’s observant.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. “Did you do the forehead kiss again? That’s her weakness.”

Ronnie nearly choked on her wine. “Excuse me?”

Theo shrugged. “You told Uncle Gale it was your favorite.”

Mark turned to her, clearly delighted. “Is it?”

“I’m not talking about this,” she muttered, stabbing a piece of garlic bread.

Mark leaned in. “You love forehead kisses?”

“Shut up.”

Theo grinned. “You do. Busted.”

Ronnie threw her napkin at him. “This is abuse.”

The table erupted in laughter—Theo's sharp and smug, Mark’s low and warm. For a moment, the chaos of the day fell away. The house, dimly lit and filled with the smell of fresh bread and spices, felt like a haven. A weird, sarcastic, loving haven.

Once things settled into a rhythm, Mark leaned back and rubbed his jaw. “So. Tomorrow. You’re bringing him to the station?”

Ronnie nodded. “Yeah. I have two interviews and a meeting with Reynolds. He’ll stay in my office and hopefully not touch everything.”

Theo raised a hand. “I make no promises.”

Mark gave Ronnie a knowing look. “I’ll keep an eye on him when I can.”

Ronnie gave him a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

Theo poked at his salad. “Do I get to play with the taser?”

Ronnie gasped. “Absolutely not.”

Mark gave Theo a mischievous grin. “We’ll talk.”

“Mark!”

“What? I said talk.”

Ronnie glared at him, and he winked back.

Later that night, the house had settled into a soft quiet. Theo sat on the floor, headphones on, humming to himself as he played with his building blocks. Mark and Ronnie were curled up on the couch, the last of the wine glasses resting on the coffee table.

Ronnie leaned against him, her legs draped over his lap. Mark ran his fingers along her shin absently, like a reflex he didn’t even think about anymore.

“I’m still mad about the fight,” she murmured.

“I know.”

“But I’m glad he’s okay. And I’m proud of him for standing up for someone. I just…” She exhaled. “I don’t want him turning into someone who lashes out first.”

“He won’t,” Mark said gently. “He’s not that kid. He did it for the right reasons.”

Ronnie nodded slowly, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

“You’re really good with him, you know,” she said softly. “He listens to you.”

Mark smiled and brushed her hair away from her face. “That’s because I don’t try to boss him around. I just meet him where he is.”

She looked up at him. “I love you.”

Mark’s smile deepened, eyes soft. “I love you too.”

He leaned in and kissed her—slow and deep, the kind of kiss that said we’ve been through hell and we’re still here. And for now, that was enough.