I stared at the phone screen then put it back to my ear. “What? Like, New York, home? Why? Did something happen? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But after what happened with the picture and everything, I got to thinking that it wasn’t fair to put you through all that.”
“All that? What the fuck does that mean, all that?” I hadn’t realized I was raising my voice until I caught several people eyeing me, one even filming my conversation. “Listen. I’m coming back, and we’ll talk.”
“No, don’t. I’m happy to keep working with you until you find another PA, but I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what? Fal, please.”
“Bye, Patrick.”
The call ended, leaving me frustrated and furious, but being in a public place, I had to keep my cool. I called for a car, and on the way to the hotel, got a plane ticket home. I quickly packed my things and got to the airport, breezing through security and boarding the plane with minutes to spare. Panic welled in my chest at the thought of losing Fallon. It choked me. I couldn’t imagine not having him with me, by my side. Us. Together. The way I looked forward to seeing his face every morning on the pillow next to mine. How he lay tucked into my side while we slept, as if he knew I’d always be there to protect him. I loved his hair in my face and his breath against my cheek. His sweet, sleepy smile and the fierce possessiveness of his grip when we made love.
He and I, we had unfinished business, and when I got home, we were damn well going to talk.
**
Eight a.m. might have been too early, but I didn’t care. I went straight from the airport to Fallon’s apartment. I couldn’t get to him without being buzzed in by someone, and on a hunch, I buzzed Josh the dog walker, hoping he’d be home. Luck was with me because a moment later his voice came through the tin box.
“Yeah?”
“Josh, my man, it’s Patrick Sloane again. Can you buzz me in?”
“What? No shit? Yeah, sure.”
I pushed the door, and Josh stood in his doorway, pants on and shirt untucked, tie slung around the collar. Obviously getting ready for work. His dog circled between his legs, then sat. “Thanks, buddy. I hope you got those tickets and enjoyed the game.”
“Hell to the yeah. Right on the fifty-yard line? It was sick. My buddy and I had a blast. Thanks so much.”
“For all your trouble, I’ll make sure to have my PA hook you up whenever we’re home. For postseason, too.”
“Are you kidding me?” His eyes bugged out. “Damn. Wow. Thanks so much. That’s so cool.”
“No problem.” I started climbing the stairs.
“Who’s your friend living here?” Josh called out. “I can tell you if he’s home.”
“Uh, Fallon McKenzie. He’s my personal assistant.”
The dog barked, and Josh shushed him. “Oh, the blond guy on the third floor? I saw him come in.”
Eager to get away, I raised my hand. “Great. I should ask him for a key.” Not wanting to get caught up in conversation, I took the stairs two at a time and stood in front of Fallon’s door, my nerves making it hard to catch my breath.
I knocked twice before I heard footsteps. The door opened with him grumbling, “I hate when people just let anyone in. Oh…shit. Patrick. What the hell.” He tried to close the door, but I stuck my size thirteen foot in it and pushed.
“Yeah, me. Let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to say,” he responded with a mulish thrust of that stubborn jaw.
“Says you.”
“Yeah, I think that’s how it goes.” He gave me his back and walked away, but I slammed the door shut and followed him, which didn’t take long, considering how tiny his place was. At the window, he faced me with a grim expression.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I disagree.” I reached out to touch him, but he shook his head, and my hand fell away. This couldn’t be solved with a kiss. “Talk to me. What made you run away?” I thought for a second. “It was Dev, wasn’t it? You freaked out after dinner with them. Did he say something? What didn’t you tell me?”
“Nothing.” He held up his hands, then let them fall. “Don’t you see how this was never going to end well? That near miss in the elevator woke me up to how impossible us being together was from the start. Just getting to the postseason means every step you take will be scrutinized, and if you win the Super Bowl, it’s ten time worse. You have no idea the hoops I jumped through for Dev and Brody so they could have their privacy.”
