I allowed myself to really admire him—the fatigue etched into his brow, the broad strength of his shoulders, the restraint in his stance, authority, not from barking orders, but from everything he held back.
I realized, all at once, I’d been wrong about him. I’d made him small to fit the story I wanted to tell. And right now, I found his truth irresistible.
He caught me staring, tongue-tied. “You good?” he asked.
I nodded, trying to hide how fast my heart was beating. “Yeah. I just . . . You surprised me.”
A smile curved his lips. “Is that right?”
Ronan leaned his broom against the wall. Suddenly, it felt like the whole room was holding its breath.
For the first time since meeting him, I didn’t care about hashtags or headlines. I just wanted the man in front of me, flawed but protective by nature.
His admission surprised a laugh out of me. “Now that I’d pay to see. Chief Banks with a bullhorn outside city hall, protesting his own department.”
Ronan smiled. “It’s kind of what I’m doing now, right?”
I nodded, reluctantly. “Good point.”
Ronan eyed my water bottle. “You want some? I can give you a waterfall if you’re not worried about my radical germs contaminating you.”
His laugh was deep. “It’s been a minute since someone offered me a waterfall.”
“Come on, hold your head back.” I opened the bottle, a smile tugging at my lips.
To my surprise, he tilted his head back. I raised the bottle above him and poured a stream of water into his mouth. A few drops escaped and trickled down his chin. The absurdity of the situation struck us, and we fell into laughter.
I put the cap back on the bottle after we stopped laughing. When our eyes met, I saw the man behind the uniform. He seemed more open than I expected, making me rethink my earlier assumptions. It was easier when he was just a face on a billboard. This Ronan had a surprising sense of humor.
Then, without warning, the lights went out, plunging the holding area into complete darkness. For a second, there was stunned silence, as if we all needed a moment to process the darkness. Then, commotion as voices came from all directions.
A guard shouted. “Remain calm. It’s a power outage, and an emergency generator should kick on shortly.”
“Shit.” The word slipped out as I tried to steady myself, reaching around in the dark.
Strong hands caught me, one gripping my upper arm and the other finding my waist. The sudden contact startled a gasp from me.
“I got you.” Ronan’s voice was low and close to my ear.
I should’ve straightened up and pulled away once I got my footing. Instead, I froze, aware of Ronan’s hands on me, the solid wall of his chest inches away from my face.
“You good?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I answered but made no move to step back. Something about the darkness made it easier to stay in his bubble of proximity.
Ronan’s hand remained at my waist. The warmth of his palm through the fabric of my shirt made my heart hammer in my chest.
“Never thought I’d be in a blackout in a holding cell,” I said quietly, not exactly sure why I kept my voice low.
He made a sound that might’ve been a soft laugh. “Yeah, it wasn’t on my bingo card either, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than having these honest conversations.” His thumb moved slightly against my waist, sending awareness up my spine.
“Honest because of the darkness, or despite it?” I reached up, resting my hand on his chest. I felt his intake of breath at the contact.
“Honest because it’s you,” he said simply.
My heart rate kicked up. “You don’t even know me.”
Ronan’s hand found mine resting on his chest. “I know enough. I know you fight for what you believe in. I know you care for people when they’re hurting. I know you see through bullshit faster than anyone I’ve ever met.”
