Page 77 of Sinner’s Game

“Brandy?” he prompts.

I manage a smile. “Yes. I want to go home. I think it’s time to shift back to normal.”

We’re silent on the drive home, me thinking about what I have to say and Ronan probably lost in reliving what happened tonight. He reaches over and takes my hand as we drive up the canyon road toward my street. A moment later, he pulls into my driveway, then kills the engine.

“Should I come in?”

I draw a breath, then shake my head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’d better not.”

It’s obviously not the answer he expected.

“Oh.”

“It’s just that—I know what I said last night. And I meant it. I wanted comfort from you, and I didn’t care about strings. But the thing is, I still want you. And I know you don’t want the same thing. But I do. I want a relationship. I always have. If I let you in, I’m just going to keep getting closer to you. I’m already in love with you, and that means that when you end it, when you say it’s too close, you’ll pull away, and you’ll break my heart. And honestly, it’s about to break anyway.”

I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, and I wipe them away. He reaches for me, but I shake my head. I can’t stay strong with him touching me. And I know that I need to be strong.

“I just don’t think I could survive it. If I get any deeper ... I’m just. I’m just really sorry.”

“Angel, you know how I feel about you. But you know why I can’t. I thought I explained it to you.”

“You did, and I get it. It all ties back to Michelle. And Ronan, I’m so sorry that that happened. I’m so sorry she’s dead, and I’m even more sorry that you blame yourself. It’s not your fault. But you’re letting it eat away at you. You didn’t kill her. Sheldon Cartwright did. Your father did. And you let them kill you, too. I hope you find Cartwright someday, I really do. But it won’t bring her back.”

I sniff, fighting tears, still not quite believing I’m truly ending this. “You think you can avoid a relationship. That you can just walk away if you don’t get too close. But you can’t. You’re already close, and now you’re refusing to go all in because you’re terrified.”

I see him cringe and wish I could call back the words, but they’re true. This is a man who’s not scared of anything, and yet he’s a coward about love.

I draw a breath and continue. “I thought I was okay with casual, but I’m not. We can call it casual and say there’s no commitment, but it’s not true. Not to me. And I don’t think to you either. But I don’t care about what it is you really feel inside. I don’t want to console myself by telling myself that you really feel the same way about me that I feel about you, even if you won’t say it. Even if you won’t look toward marriage or a relationship. Even if you just call it casual sex.”

I know I should just stop, but I have to get this out, as much for me as for him. Because I don’t want to end it either, but for all these reasons, I know that it’s right.

“Brandy—”

I shake my head; I’m not done yet. “There’s nothing casual between us, Ronan. I know it, and I think you know it. But you won’t acknowledge it. Because you think you’re protecting your heart. But I don’t want to live that way. I can’t. I want all of you. Or none. And I want to live the truth, not a lie. I deserve that. And I think that you do too.”

“That’s what you need?”

“It is.”

For a moment, he actually looks scared, and I don’t think that I have ever seen him look scared in all the time that I’ve known him. Except for that one moment just a few hours ago, when he wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice when he’d fired that gun.

“Well, then I guess you should go.”

My tears run freely now. I open the door and get out of the car. I hold it open as I look back at him. “I’m not angry with you,” I say. “But I do feel desperately sorry for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“You look pretty glum, man.”

Ronan looked up to see Devlin standing beside him. Ronan was in the back of the bar at the Cask and Barrel, a favorite haunt in the Laguna Cortez Arts District. He reached for his drink, tossed the rest of it back, and put the glass down. “What are you doing here?”

The corner of Devlin’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything, not about Ronan’s harsh response, not about the fact that Ronan had just downed his third drink, and not about the fact that Ronan obviously wanted to be alone. Thus, the dark corner and the small table with only one chair.

“I’m really not in the mood for company.”

Devlin took two strides away, and for a moment Ronan felt a pang of regret that his friend was leaving. Then Devlin grabbed the back of a chair, dragged it over, and sat down, and that pang turned to irritation.

Devlin raised his hand, signaling for the bartender to bring over another round. “Brandy told Ellie what happened with Michelle. Ellie told me.”