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Outsiders were coming. I had to put on a game face. No one saw me vulnerable except Corrigan and Br— just Corrigan now.
A deep sense of mourning rolled through me like one giant riptide.
“Hey.” Corrigan came to stand right next to me.
I tensed. He was going to touch me, try to comfort me, and the injustice of that tore at me. It wasn’t fair. The man I loved shouldn’t have to console the woman he loves over the previous guy. And with that thought, I stuffed it down and I looked up. Straightening my back, I nodded at him. “I’m good.”
He gave me a half-grin. He had bags under his eyes, too. “Liar.”
“Let me pretend.” I grinned back, but like him, I could only form a half one. It wasn’t in me to force a full smile.
His hand lifted and touched the side of my face, his finger resting near the corner of my eye. He murmured, studying me, “You don’t have to. Not with me.”
I started to say something, but paused. We hadn’t talked about him and me, our new relationship status. I bit down on my lip. Was I ready for that conversation now? Right before Mena got here and Corrigan went to check on Bryce with Denton?
“Sheldon.” He moved to stand in front of me, and he held both sides of my face. “Stop worrying. I get it. I do. Your job is to grieve and then heal. Grieve Grace. Grieve what happened to you. Grieve Bryce. I’m not a douche bag. I get what happened. You chose. I do. I’m the guy. I got the girl, but you lost a family member. It won’t be the same. You have to mourn him. I will be here. I’ll always be here, waiting for you, picking you up, carrying you, holding you. I’m here. No matter how long it takes.”
My hands lifted and rested on top of his, holding him as he held me. I wanted to melt down and curse at the same time. “Goddamn. Why do you have to be this guy?”
He laughed, his lip lifting upward. “What guy?”
“The guy.” I gestured to him, from top to bottom. “You’re understanding. You’re considerate. You’re strong. You’re a fucking badass, too. You’re that guy.”
He pretended to groan, still grinning. “The annoying guy.”
I smirked. “Hell yes. The annoying guy because he’s so perfect. That guy.”
Laughing softly again, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on mine. Then he whispered, taking both my hands in his and holding them between us. He whispered to me then, “Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“I have to be that guy.” A cocky smirk came over him. “What other type of guy could handle you?”
“Oh.” I grinned and pretended to punch him in the chest. “Now you’re the smart-ass guy, huh?”
“I’ve always been the smart-ass guy,” he softened his tone and pressed his lips to mine, achingly tender. “But I’m the other guy too, the guy that loves you back.”
There it was.
We hadn’t talked about it, not really.
“That’s not fair,” I said.
“What’s not?” He lifted his head and leaned back an inch.
“That. What I said whenever I said it.”
He chuckled. “You said it quite a few times and you said it first when you woke up in the ambulance.”
“I was in an ambulance?”
He nodded. “You were. I was with you.”
“And Bryce?”
“He was, too.”
Oh . . . my chest tightened. “I wish I hadn’t said it.”
