“Look, there’s no point discussing it any further. We can go back to you just being another agent and forget anything happened between us.” He grabbed his to-go mug and poured creamer into it. “We need to leave before I’m late for class.”
Even knowing it was for the best that we pretend I was nothing more than his protector, it didn’t mean the decision hurt any less. And Fallon accepting my choice without much of a fight made it even worse.
* * *
A couple of weeks later,Agent Day and I were tailing Fallon’s Mustang as he drove to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving. We were the only two in the car because Patrick Donnelley’s house was already bustling with Secret Service and most of the other agents on our team had the day off to spend with their families.
I’d chosen to ride with Day because things continued to be strained with Fallon. We still rode to school together every day, but not much was said when we were alone in his car. He’d also started studying at the library after class when he didn’t have rowing practice, so we rarely returned home before the end of my shift.
Part of me thought the distance between us was a good thing because I could go back to maintaining professional boundaries with him. However, I missed our flirty interactions and how easy it was to talk with him. I missed the way we playfully challenged each other, and how he managed to bring a smile to my face even when I tried to keep my emotions in check. I just plain missed him, but I didn’t know how to fix things.
“Does something seem off to you?” Day asked as we pulled onto the interstate.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Fallon’s been more subdued lately. Normally, he talks to everyone and jokes around, but he’s been keeping to himself a lot. I’m just wondering if we’re missing something we should be aware of.”
Since I couldn’t admit to my friend I was to blame for the change in Fallon’s demeanor, I said, “He’s got some tough exams coming up that are stressing him out.”
“That makes sense.” Day’s easy acceptance of my lie made me feel even guiltier.
Ten minutes later, we took the exit toward the Donnelleys’ house in Weston, just outside of Boston. When we turned onto their street, the familiar stone wall surrounding their estate came into view. I’d spent some time there when I worked for Fallon’s father, and I was in awe every time I saw their sprawling whitewashed brick home. The property had rolling lawns and trees as far as the eye could see, and the inside was even more impressive. I couldn’t imagine what it was like growing up in such a beautiful place.
We followed Fallon as he drove down the winding driveway and stopped near the garage, where several other vehicles were parked. He got out of his car, and without a glance in our direction, made his way up to the house. Day and I quickly climbed out of the government SUV and caught up to him just as one of Patrick Donnelley’s agents opened the door.
I greeted him with a nod and then moved inside. The Donnelleys had a large extended family, and it appeared everyone had descended on their home for the holiday. Children played and laughed while the other guests milled around the first floor and engaged in various conversations. I watched as Fallon kissed his mother’s cheek and shook his father’s hand before bypassing everyone else and making his way to the bar. He filled a glass with amber liquid, tossed it back in one gulp, and then poured himself another.
With his drink in hand, he walked over to where his siblings were seated on the couch. Both of them had their faces buried in their phones and seemed more interested in whatever they were looking at on the screens than the activity surrounding them.
When it was time to eat, Mrs. Donnelley made sure the chefs prepared plates for all the agents, and we decided amongst ourselves to eat in shifts; that way, we could continue to provide security while also enjoying the delicious meal.
Day and I each grabbed a plate and joined a few of the agents who chose to eat outside. With so many bodies in the house, the crisp autumn air felt refreshing. Day knew two of the agents, so he made the introductions.
“You guys are on Fallon’s detail, right?” asked Agent Ramos, one of Finnegan’s agents. “How’s that going?”
“Easiest detail I’ve been on,” Day replied.
Agent Pederson, part of Faye’s detail, snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you’re with the golden child.”
I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
“Just that you’re protecting the responsible kid who goes to law school and doesn’t get himself into trouble,” Pederson elaborated.
“You havin’ trouble with Faye?” Day teased.
Pederson shook his head. “You don’t know the half of it. I don’t think she’s spent more than ten hours at home this last week. I’ve gone to more nightclubs since joining her team than I did throughout my entire twenties. That doesn’t include the countless shopping trips I’ve accompanied her on. They should change my job description to ‘official bag handler.’”
We all laughed.
Ramos chimed in and said, “At least you haven’t had to travel to some seedy poker clubs. I swear Finnegan has to be the worst poker player ever. He says it’s just an unlucky streak, but I’m not convinced he knows what he’s doing.”
“Wow. I guess we do have it easy.” Day nudged me with his elbow.
If only he knew.
Throughout the night, I kept watch over Fallon while he did everything he could not to look my way. When the festivities were over, he drove home while Day and I followed him again. The two of us were on duty until the night shift started, which wasn’t for another hour. Fallon parked his car and headed for the elevator before Day pulled into our spot.
As soon as Day turned off our vehicle, we hopped out and rushed over to Fallon just as the elevator doors opened. Day gave me a questioning look as we stepped inside, and I shrugged, pretending I had no idea what was going on with Fallon.
