"Then tell her tomorrow."
"What if?—"
"No more what ifs." Flynn stands up, apparently done with this conversation. "Here's what's going to happen. Tomorrow, you're going to wake up and pull your head out of your arse. You're going to have an actual conversation with your wife about what you both want. And you're going to stop sabotaging the one good thing that's happened to you in all these years. Got it?"
I want to argue, but I'm too tired. Too worn out, completely and to the bone from… everything. "Got it," I mutter.
"Good." He heads for the door, then pauses. "For what it's worth, Sean? She's good for you. You're different with her. Less... dead inside."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm serious. You smile more. You're less of a miserable bastard. And I've seen the way you look at her when she's not watching. Like she's the only good thing in a very dark world." He opens the door. "Don't fuck this up."
And then he's gone, and I'm alone with my thoughts and the last of the whiskey.
Maybe I am damaged, but Maeve doesn't care. Maybe that's what this feeling is—not love, because I don't know what love feels like, but something close to it. Something that makes me want to be better. Something that makes me want to try.
I down the last of my whiskey and head to the bedroom door. It's closed, and I can't hear anything from inside. She's probably asleep by now. I should leave her alone, let her rest.
I don’t know if there’s a future for this, a real one, anyway. We’re bound together regardless, but maybe I could try… something. Something to see if we could fit together in a way that I’ve never tried to fit with anyone else.
I go back to the couch and lie down, but sleep doesn't come. Instead, I stare at the ceiling and think about tomorrow. About what I'm going to say to her. About whether I can actually dothis—let someone in, let myself feel something, let myself want something beyond just survival.
Or if it’s too late for me, after everything that I’ve done, and everything that I’ve had to let myself become.
20
SEAN
Flynn is sprawled at the kitchen table when I wake up the next morning, looking far too comfortable for someone who's supposed to be on security detail. He's got his laptop balanced on his knees and a cup of coffee in his hand, and he glances up at me with a knowing smirk that makes me want to throw him out the window.
"Morning, sunshine," he says, far too cheerful for this early in the day. "Sleep well?"
I grunt in response and head for the kitchen, needing caffeine before I deal with whatever shit he's about to give me. The apartment feels smaller with him here, more crowded, and I'm hyperaware of Maeve still asleep in my bed. My bed. Where I could be with her, right now, if I wasn’t such a fucking coward.
"You know," Flynn continues, because he's never known when to shut up, "for a man who just kissed his wife for the first time since that party, you look remarkably miserable."
I pour coffee with more force than necessary, the dark liquid splashing against the sides of the mug. "Don't you have somewhere to be? A patrol to do?"
"Nope." He takes a sip of his own coffee, still watching me with that irritating expression. "Security's covered. Which means I have plenty of time to tell you what an absolute idiot you're being."
I turn to face him, leaning back against the counter. "I'm not in the mood, Flynn."
"Yes, you are." He holds up a hand, cutting me off. "And before you give me some shite about how you're too old for her, or too damaged, or whatever other excuse you've been feeding yourself and have probably convinced yourself of again since our conversation last night, let me remind you that she's your wife. She's already yours. The only thing standing between you and actually being happy is your own stubborn pride."
I stare at him, my hands gripping the edge of the counter hard enough that my knuckles go white. "You don't understand."
"I understand that you've been alone your entire life because you're terrified of losing someone the way you lost your ma." His voice is gentler now, and that somehow makes it worse. "But Maeve isn't going anywhere, Sean. Not unless you push her away so hard she has no choice. And even then, you’ll still be married, because you have to be. You’ll just be married to a stranger who hates you."
“If I fuck this up, she’ll hate me anyway.”
Flynn shrugs. “At least you will have tried.”
The truth of his words settles in my chest like a stone. I think of Maeve last night, the way she looked at me after I kissed her, the vulnerability in her eyes mixed with something that looked almost like hope. I think of how I pulled away from her, again, because I'm too much of a coward to face what I feel.
"What am I supposed to do?" The question comes out rougher than I intend, and I hate how lost I sound.
Flynn grins, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Take her out. On a proper date. Show her you're not just some brooding bastardwho only knows how to kill people. Show her the man I know you can be."
