Page 55 of Shea's Hero

Itispretty big, now that she mentioned it. But it seemed to make sense at the time. With my new job in Sleepy Hollow, I wasn’t going to be traveling nearly as much, and I was envisioning lazy Sundays watching the Bills or spring evenings rooting on the Yankees.

Now that I have Shea back, though… I’m imagining new things. Game nights with Shea and my friends, like Leo does with his wife and the B and A team. Inviting my buddies from the station and the fire department over with their partners, grilling out on the patio I rarely use. And holidays, maybe shifting the TV over to make room for a Christmas tree like I did when I was with Shea before.

Am I jumping the gun? Letting myself get too invested too quickly? After all, there’s no guarantee this will work out with me and Shea.

But in my gut, I know this is real. That regardless of the cause, which was admittedly bad, the result was meant to happen. That we’re supposed to be together.

Shit. I sound like one of those guys in the movies my friends’ wives talk about, the ones where it’s always the same story—a woman from the city comes to a small town and discovers there’s more to life than her job. In those movies, apparently, the guys are so sweet and talk about soulmates and stuff like that all the time.

Before Shea, I scoffed at the idea of a soulmate. Of that one person who fits you so perfectly you don’t know how you existed without them.

Then, after we broke up, I didn’t want to think about it.

Now? It’s on my mind all the time.

All of it. The long haul, as my dad used to say back when I was a kid. Every anniversary, he’d kiss my mom and say affectionately, “When I married you, it was for the long haul. You’re never getting rid of me.”

Except he did leave, just not of his own choice, but that of a drunk driver when I was fifteen. And the long haul wasn’t as long as he hoped it would be.

“Oll?” Shea touches my cheek, her brows arched up with concern. “I was just joking about the TV. You know that, right?”

“Of course.” Forcing away the maudlin memory, I smile at her again. “I was just thinking. But I’m not upset. Far from it.” Then I pull her into my arms, lifting her so our faces are level, and press a kiss to her lips. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

She twines her arms around my neck and slants her mouth over mine, nipping my bottom lip before stroking the small sting away. “I’m happy, too. Is that weird? With everything that’s going on?”

“No.” I set Shea down and take her hand. “I don’t think it is. You can be upset about one thing and happy about another.”

“I suppose so.” A moment later, she brightens. “Well. I’m happy to be here. With you. Monster-sized TV and all.”

“Monster-sized?”

“Pretty much. Now. Are you going to show me around?”

“Of course. It’s more of the same, though. I’m sorry. If I’d known—” Shit. I cut myself off. Bringing up yesterday’s attack isn’t exactly the way I want to make Shea feel comfortable. “Anyway. Like I said. We can decorate. Maybe tonight we can order some things online. And we could stop at the furniture store after work tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” As we head into the kitchen, she swings our hands a little. “I mean, the kitchen is nice. I love the big island, and the windows let so much light in.”

But once we get to the rest of the house, I can tell Shea is struggling to come up with nice things to say. Like in one of the guest bedrooms, which is set up with a treadmill and more free weights than any one person needs, she says, “Well. It’s nice that you have a place to keep in shape at home.”

And in my bedroom, with the stark white walls and matching blinds, she offers brightly, “It’s nice and simple in here. So you won’t have distractions when you’re trying to get to sleep.”

“Shea. It’s not nice. I know it’s not.”

“It is.” She pauses. “Well. It could be. With some actual color. And maybe some curtains.” Her gaze drifts to the bed. “Although the bed is big. So that’s a plus.”

Oh.

And now I’m thinking about Shea on my bed, her gorgeous body spread out across it, looking up at me with sleepy bedroom eyes, and?—

Shit.

It’s not the time.

I’m more than old enough to control my body. Just because one part of me wants to make an appearance…

“Oliver.” Shea takes a step closer to me. Her pupils dilate. A hint of pink blossoms on her cheeks. “What are you thinking about right now?”

“The bedroom. New curtains. A new comforter.”

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