Ronan was quiet for a moment, watching his line bob in the water. “That explains a lot about you.”
I shot him a side-eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How you think. Or always questioning, analyzing. It’s impressive.”
His compliment surprised me, and I stepped too close to the edge of the dock. My foot slipped on the wet wood, and for a second, I lost my balance, almost falling into the water.
Ronan moved faster than I would have thought possible, one strong arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me firmly against him. “Got you,” he said, his heart pounding against my back.
“Oh shit, I almost took an unintended swim.”
Ronan’s eyes crinkled with amusement, though his arm stayed securely around me. “Can’t have my favorite activist drowning on police property. Imagine the headlines.”
“Chief Banks Fails to Protect Yet Another Black Woman. Sorry, that was?—”
“No, it’s fair. That’s the world we have to go back to, isn’t it? Where everything between us becomes political again.”
I rested my hands on his chest. “Maybe. Or maybe we bring a little of this back with us.”
He studied my face, eyes searching mine for something. Whatever he found made him smile, small but genuine. “I’d like that.”
“We should get back to fishing, since you promised to feed me fresh catch and all.”
His thumb brushed my lower back, sending a pleasant shiver up my spine. “One more cast,” he agreed, but his eyes said there was more at stake than fish.
Hours later, after we’d eaten, we moved around each other in the bedroom, gathering our items, my earrings from the nightstand, his watch from the bathroom counter. We worked together to strip the bed, fold blankets, and close windows. There was something intimate about these domestic tasks, about seeing how easily we moved around each other, anticipating needs, passing items without having to ask. Like we’d done this for years instead of hours.
Ronan did a final walkthrough. I stood outside, trying to memorize it, the way sunlight filtered through the trees, the gentle lapping of water against the shore, the perfect quiet broken only by birdsong. A peace I hadn’t known I needed until I found it here.
“Ready?” His voice came from behind me as he locked the cabin door, keys jingling in his hand.
I nodded, but I wasn’t ready. We headed to the car. Ronan opened the passenger door, and I slid inside as he walked around to the driver’s side. For a moment, he just sat there, hands on the wheel, not starting the engine.
“What?” I asked when he took too long.
“Nothing.” Ronan drove slowly down the gravel road, like he didn’t want to leave either. When we reached the main road, and he turned toward Birmingham, I felt a tightness in my chest.
“You’re quiet,” he commented after we’d driven for a few minutes.
“Just thinking.”
“About what happens next?”
I glanced at him. His profile was strong against the sunlight streaming through the driver’s window, his hands steady on the wheel. “Among other things.”
“You know, nothing’s actually changed. The world’s still the same as it was a day ago.”
“We’re not, though.”
His eyes met mine briefly before returning to the road. “No. We’re definitely not.”
The silence that followed wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it felt heavier than before. It was full of questions we didn’t have answers to yet.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about bringing some of this back with us. I want that, but I’m not sure how we can make it work.”
“Romeo and Juliet for the social justice era,” I said with a small laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it.
“Hopefully with a better ending.”
