“I thought it did. Turns out some things matter more.”
I resisted the urge to reach for him, to close the distance we’d maintained, but years of self-protection held me back.
“There’s something I have to ask you. I overheard Captain Jordan at a bar. He said you denied any professional involvement with protest organizers.” My words came out moreaccusing than I’d intended, old hurt rising to the surface despite my best efforts to hold them inside.
Ronan didn’t flinch from the question, his eyes staying steady on mine. “It wasn’t a lie. What we have isn’t professional, it’s personal. Has been since the holding cell.”
The distinction knocked me back a step. Ronan hadn’t denied me. He’d protected what was between us from being categorized, documented, reduced to notes in a federal file.
“That’s some lawyer-type semantic bullshit,” I said, fighting a smile.
“Maybe, but it’s also true,” he conceded, his own mouth curving slightly.
“I need to tell you something, too. That day in the grocery store, when I pushed you away . . . It wasn’t because I didn’t want you around. It was because of your warning. Once I found out I was on the watchlist, I knew you being seen with me could put a target on your back. I figured I was doing the right thing by keeping my distance.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “You were protecting me . . .”
“While you were protecting me,” I finished, the absurdity of it hitting us both at once.
A laugh escaped me, unexpected and genuine. “We’re a mess, you know that?”
“A well-intentioned mess,” he amended, his smile reaching his eyes for the first time since we’d started talking.
We stood there in the narrow space between food trucks, shaking our heads at ourselves.
“Of course, it got this complicated. Nothing about us has ever been simple,” I stated, feeling the tension between us finally beginning to dissolve.
“No, but simple is overrated.”
Another beat of silence passed between us. The noise of the food truck lot flowed around us, people ordering, laughing, living their everyday lives, while something extraordinary happened in our little corner of the world. The realization that neither of us had rejected the other, that we’d both acted out of protection, changed everything.
“What now?” I asked a question that encompassed far more than just the immediate future.
Ronan glanced back at the food truck he’d been in line for, then back to me. “I’m thinking we both need to eat. And talk. Really talk, without all these misunderstandings between us.”
“I’d like that,” I said, meaning it more than he could know.
He stepped closer. “I missed you, Nia.”
“I missed you, too,” I admitted.
“Come on,” Ronan said, nodding toward the taco truck. I followed him like we’d been together for years instead of just that one brief time at his cabin.
The man inside worked quickly, his hands moving fast as he put together orders and called out numbers. We joined the line, standing close together.
When we reached the window, Ronan ordered for both of us without hesitation, asking for extra hot sauce on mine and none on his, adding sides of Elote for both of us.
After he paid, we stepped away from the window and waited for our number to be called. Ronan picked up our food, balancing the tray as he turned to me. We found a small metal table away from the main crowd, where we could talk without shouting. The night had grown darker, the heat still heavy but somehow easier to handle now that the sun was gone.
“This smells amazing. I haven’t eaten since the granola bar I had this morning. I was too busy preparing lectures,” I said, unwrapping my first taco and inhaling the aroma of spices and grilled meat.
“How’s that going?”
I took a bite, the heat of the sauce bringing instant tears to my eyes that I blinked away. “Damn, that’s hot. Good. Students seem more engaged here than in Atlanta.”
Ronan smiled and handed me his unopened water bottle. Our conversation felt easy, like we were picking up where we left off. We talked about the sticky night and a new bookstore downtown. For a while, we were just regular people, setting aside the stress of watchlists and lost badges.
“I missed this,” he said during a lull in the conversation.
