"I'm sorry if I ever?—"
"You didn't. You've never led me on or anything like that. This is all me. My feelings, my problem." He takes another drink, staring at the floor. "I just think you should know that he's not going to be around forever. Once you're safe, once whatever threat is handled, he's leaving. That's how these things work. Protection details end. He goes back to Dublin, or wherever the Mackenzies send him next, and you're left here. Without him."
The words hit harder than they should, because he's right.
I've been trying not to think about it—the expiration date hanging over everything RJ and I have built, but it's there.
It's always been there, lurking in the shadows like a monster under the bed.
"I know," I say quietly.
"So when that happens—if that happens—I just want you to know there are people here who aren't going anywhere. People who want to be with you for real, not because it's their job. People who have loved you their whole lives, even if they didn't have the guts to say it until now."
"It's not like that with us. RJ isn't with me because of the job."
"Maybe not. But it started that way. And when the job is done..." He shrugs. "I'm just saying. I'll be here. I've always been here."
I open my mouth to respond, but a voice cuts through the air like a blade.
"She won't need you to be."
RJ is standing in the doorway to the back porch, his expression carved from stone.
I have no idea how long he's been there, how much he heard, but from the look on his face, it was enough.
Njal stands slowly, his posture shifting into something more guarded.
He's not afraid—he's too well-trained for that—but he knows he's stepped into dangerous territory. "This is a private conversation."
"Not anymore." RJ crosses the room in long, deliberate strides, putting himself between me and Njal in a move that's pure instinct. Pure possession. The air in the room shifts, charged with tension. "Dalla's not a consolation prize you get to claim when I'm gone. She's not a backup plan. She's not something you've been waiting in the wings for. She'smine."
"RJ—" I start.
"And I'm not going anywhere." His voice is low, dangerous—the voice of a man who's killed before and would do it again without hesitation. "Job or no job, threat or no threat. I'm not leaving her. So whatever fantasy you've been building in your head, whatever future you've been imagining where I disappear and you swoop in to comfort her—let it go. Now."
Njal's jaw tightens.
To his credit, he doesn't back down—doesn't flinch under RJ's murderous gaze. "You don't get to decide that. She does."
"You're right." RJ turns to look at me, and something in his expression softens—just slightly, just for a moment. A crack in the armor. "She does. So ask her."
They both look at me.
Two men I care about, for very different reasons, waiting for me to choose.
Njal, with his sad eyes and his childhood memories and his quiet, patient love.
RJ, with his fierce protectiveness and his dark edges and his refusal to let me go.
It's not even a contest.
"Njal." I stand, moving to RJ's side, feeling his hand immediately find the small of my back. "I meant what I said. I'm happy with him. And whatever happens in the future—whatever threats get resolved, whatever assignments come next—that's for me and RJ to figure out. Together. Not you."
Njal nods slowly.
If he's hurt, he hides it well—but I can see the pain in his eyes, the way his shoulders drop just slightly.
"Fair enough." He looks at RJ, and something passes between them. Not friendship. Not yet. But maybe a grudging understanding. "You better be worth it, Brotherhood. Because if you hurt her, there won't be enough left of you to send back to Dublin."
