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As I predicted, she never returned to Kensington. But hell, how could she? She was offered her dream job just after spring break. Nor do I blame her; I just want to figure out if it’s possible for us to blend our lives together—if that’s what she wants.
I contemplate the kind of family outrage I’m going to stir up when I finally come clean about her, about the depth of my feelings for Fallon. But what if she doesn’t want to be with you? What if you wasted too much time? Dragging your feet, waiting for her to live her life before you moved in? I slam the door on that idea. I can’t—won’t—let myself think like that.
We’re going to face enough problems as it is.
My heart clenches painfully when I recall how she reacted when I declined her invitation to attend her graduation. Still in my world of denial, I demanded, “What would you have me say, Fallon?”
“That we’re friends? Friends show up when they’re asked,” she retorted.
“I know we’re friends. You know we’re friends. My family has no clue.” A pin dropping could be heard at a hundred paces with the silence between us after I released that bomb.
She whispered, “Still? I told my mother about you and me a long time ago, Ethan.”
That flabbergasted me. “You did?”
Her next words were like a knife driven through my heart. “I’m not the one ashamed of our... friendship.”
I heard the hitch in her voice by her choice of word right before she disconnected our call. I let out a blazing “Fuck!” even as I dialed her back.
I was sent directly to voicemail.
It took me two weeks of almost constant persistence to get her to speak to me again—even through text. I finally let out some of what my heart was feeling in voicemail, admitting, “Before you, there wasn’t anyone I wanted to protect, Fal. It’s instinctive. I don’t know what to say where you don’t get hurt.”
She begrudgingly came around. When I finally talked to her again, she texted me something I’ll never forget.
Fallon:
Don’t be ashamed of who I am.
Ethan:
I was trying to protect you. I care too much for you not to try to, Fal.
Fallon:
If I care for someone, I’ll go straight to hell for them. I want them to know they’re in my thoughts on the way down.
Frowning at the computer screen at the information I’ve located, I should be leaping with joy. Instead, a knot of worry has slithered into my stomach. The part of me that knows Fallon is the end of my heart’s journey—despite my underlying worries—is the man sitting in the hotel room, waiting to surprise her at her graduation.
The part of me hunting down the people who ordered the death of an Agency’s relative so they could pull her out of her special identity on the dark web makes me wonder how Fallon’s going to react when I can’t tell her about these assignments. Will she understand? Will she be able to handle the pressure? Will it just be one more burden on top of the twenty-year age difference between us?
Either way, I’ll know when I see her face tomorrow when she realizes Austyn’s husband Mitch isn’t the only man attending her graduation.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SEVEN VIRTUES, NORTH CAROLINA
“I’m sorry, I will not comment about whether or not DJ Kensington is at Seven Virtues University graduation. If she is, it’s not in a professional capacity.”
—Paula Stone
Wildcard Media Representative
With a rainbow of cords proclaiming her superior academic excellence draped around her neck, Fallon’s mother and I take photo after photo of two women hamming it up outside Seven Virtues Stadium. The crowd shifts and bulges around them as they carry on. Especially once they realize who is posing with Fallon, I think sardonically.
Austyn demands I get into a picture with Fallon. “After all, Uncle E. If it weren’t for you taking care of us, who knows if we’d have ever survived that first hangover,” she mocks, tongue in cheek.
Fallon’s mother snickers. “I’m just grateful I never knew about it, Ethan. I’d have been mortified.”