I’ll be in my thirties. It seems so far away, like I’ll magically transform into a real grown-up then, instead of some girl who’s just pretending to have her shit together.
Some girl who won’t have unprofessional relationships with older men who can’t possibly keep my heart intact.
“Is that what you want? A change of pace?” I ask softly, moving to safer ground. I take his hand and his fingers curl around mine. “To strike out on your own with the consulting work?”
“It’s an option.” His voice is firm, guarded.
I remember the way he limped inside after chasing after those men, his knee torn up. The fury in his voice at failing to catch them.
I put my hand on his thigh. “You’re worried about your knees.”
“No need to remind me,” he growls.
“But it’s true, right?”
“True enough,” he admits. “Shit gets worse every year. Hereditary problems.”
There’s pain in those words, knowing he’s stuck with a destiny he can’t control. The worst fate for a man who’s used to being in control.
I pause, waiting for him to give me his full truth.
That’s not the end of it, I know.
“I’ve talked about this before. No point in dwelling on it,” he grumbles.
“And we can talk about it again. Sorry, I just like to know what you’re thinking.”
He huffs. “Fine. I can’t do my old job much longer. I’m keeping up today, barely, but in a few more years? Fuck, I can’t protect the people I care about, Clee. If I can’t keep clients safe, I can’t keep earning money that way. And if I can’t, if I ever have the slightest doubt, I won’t put them in danger.”
I watch the dark flicker in his face.
“Hey, I know that. Don’t stress. You can’t beat yourself up. You’re still strong and spry. Whatever happens isn’t your fault,” I whisper.
“That’s why I have to look after them without relying on just my body. I have experience, yeah, so I can figure it out. With the payout from your granddad, I can build my own business. I can keep going and provide.”
“For your family.”
“Exactly. Taking care of my people and living the quiet life. That’s the dream.” His eyes shine. “Hell, someday when you’re rich and famous, I’ll bring Kit around to your shows in New York or LA. She’ll love bragging about how she knew you before you got big.”
It’s a joke, I know, but it feels so bittersweet.
My fault, I suppose.
I brought this on by urging him to live in the moment, and I know what he’s doing.
In his own gruff stony-hearted way, he’s telling me we’re too different. He’s telling me that when the time comes, it’s okay tolet go.
A sensible decision from a man who’s wall-to-wall sense.
Fantastic sex aside, we’re still complete opposites. Different ages, different lives, different passions.
I want travel. Adventure. Grinding through a career that can get stupidly messy.
Holden, he wants his quiet. Peace dollars rather than fame to support the people he loves.
Kit will be off to college and he’ll be established in a new field. In eight years, I won’t even be the age Holden is now.
My heart stings.
