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“I know—” he whispers, and for a moment, my blood turns to ice. He knows, he knows—
He’s fighting through something, though, and his lips thin before he speaks again. “I know nothing will ever happen. I’ve been trying to deal with it. Put it away. But I’ve been gone for you since we met in the boxing ring at RTC. It was almost impossible to spar. I couldn’t fucking breathe, but I also couldn’t let you down. I just…”
He paces away, the ball squealing in his iron grip.
He’s still going. “I’ve been thinking about telling you. Not to ask you out or anything, but because it’s hard to get through the day with these feelings blowing up inside me. I don’t want to mess up or make a mistake. Or worse, make you feel—” Finally, his voice breaks.
“Sheridan… I’m honored.”
I can see it, a picture just out of focus: Sheridan and me spending our lives together. He’d love me forever, always there for me with his smile and his open heart. We could find happiness, if I let myself feel it. But—
Different time, different place, different reality.
He bounces the ball. Catches it one-handed. Bounces it again.
“I’m not ready,” I say. “I just broke someone’s heart, and I broke myself doing it. I’m not ready.”
Maybe there’ll be a day in the far-flung future when I can consider opening the remnants of myself again, but that day is nowhere near.
“I know,” he says again, and damn it, what the hell does he mean? What does he know? “I’ve been watching you.” He flinches. “That sounds fucking creepy. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like that. I mean… I’ve noticed. You were happy, and then you weren’t. Something happened after New York. I’ve been trying to cheer you up, or distract you, or make you laugh.”
“You have. You make me smile every day.” Now my throat is closing. Now I’m the one choking on my words. “You make me smile when nothing else can, Sheridan.”
He’s back to mangling the ball, the muscles in his forearm flexing.
“I didn’t know you months ago, but now—” I inhale, blinking. My words are a rushing river, roaring out of me. “I can’t imagine my days without you. I think there’s a part of me that needs you.”
“There’s a part of me that needs you, too.” His voice is quiet steel. “You’re everything to me.”
Like Brennan is everything to me.
The basketball pounds the pavement, furious dribbling as he stares at the ground. “Do you want me off the detail? Should I request a transfer?”
“No. You’re a fantastic agent.” His eyes dart to mine. They’re full of questions, bunched like thunderheads. “Sheridan, I want you to stay, but if you need space, I understand.”
Finally, a tiny smile appears, made more of sadness than delight. “I want to stay.”
“Then you stay.”
Silence descends over the court. He stares at me, and I stare at him. Would Sheridan have been able to unlock my heart like Brennan had? If I met these men in reverse, would Sheridan be the man in my bed and Brennan just another president, just another job, on the periphery of my life?
You fall in love with people for different reasons. Sheridan is warm and wonderful and has earned a place in my life through his kindness and his steadfastness, his quick mind and his quicker smile. He’s the man who will cherish me for a lifetime, who will wake me with a kiss every morning and hold my hand in the sunlight.
Brennan is black lightning and blues, neon-soaked rain squalls, bayou midnights and creeping Spanish moss. He’s unknowable depths, flame-hot touches and bleu clair eyes. He’s the mystery, the moon rising in the west, the secrets written on bones and cast under dark stars.
Some part of me may need Sheridan, like the earth needs the rays of the sun.
But I was made to love Brennan Walker.
And then I was set down in this life, where that love is an impossibility.
Despair wraps around me again. The moment on the court has passed, and the warm glow of the light, the welcoming shelter of the trees, has shifted. Now the night is obliterating, a weight that is pressing me into the ground.
Sheridan senses the changes in me, and he shoots me a tight smile as he backs away, moving to the free throw line and setting up for a shot. I watch him sling another basket before I grab my jacket and tie set off down the track. He watches me go, and the only thing he says is, “I’ll see you Monday.”
I could set my watch to Sheridan’s quiet care and endless affection. He’s as reliable as the sunrise. What the hell does he see in me?
Less than five minutes later, my BlackBerry buzzes.
