“Why?”
“What?”
“You said sorry. Just now.” He held out his hand, palm up; Justin put fingers into his without hesitation. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“I did say it, didn’t I.” Even that hair managed to sigh. Fire-crackles and dismay. “I’m a disaster right now. I’m—”
“Don’t you dare,” Kris interrupted, and squeezed the fingers in his. “Don’t say it.”
Apology cut off, Justin discovered a bubble of self-directed wry amusement. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you. My job. Professional, capable, managing musicians…”
“Saving babies. You do that a lot?”
“I try to be good at helping other people. Even when my life’s a mess.” Justin, a bit uncertainly, added, “You remember the fire that started in that hotel downtown, last year, and the people who couldn’t figure out how they got out,
