Page 25 of Shea's Hero

Her cheeks go pink. “So do you.”

We stare at each other for a second, a frisson ofsomethingmoving between us.

No. Shea made her choice.

Ruthlessly shoving down the burgeoning emotions, I work to keep my smile steady. “Okay, then. The coffee shop it is.”

Once we step outside, I rest my hand lightly at the small of Shea’s back, not in an affectionate move, but one of protection. Her muscles tighten beneath my fingers, and she sucks in a small breath. “I need you right beside me,” I explain quickly. “I’m sure it’s safe here. But just in case.”

“Oh.” She glances at me. “Right. That makes sense.”

It does.

But that doesn’t change how it feels to touch her again.

How familiar it is.

How the heat of Shea’s skin seeps into mine, bringing with it sizzles of electricity.

No.Remember. This meeting is about closure. About making sure things are cordial between us. It’s not supposed to be a reminder of everything I lost.

But it’s hard to keep perspective when we’re sitting across from each other in a tiny booth at Common Grounds, our knees bumping under the table every time we move. It’s hard when Shea’s so close to me I can see the flecks of silver and green in her eyes and the tiny freckle just above her left eyebrow.

And it’sreallyhard to remember why I’m here when she licks a spot of foam from her upper lip, and my mind jumps to how I would have kissed it off in the past. How I would have leaned across the small table and captured her mouth with mine. HowI would have cupped her cheek, stroking my thumb across her satiny skin. And I would have?—

“So, how do you like being a cop?” Shea sets down her mug and props her elbows on the glossy wood, resting her chin on her enfolded hands. “It must be a big change from the—” She cuts herself off. “From what you used to do.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that she remembered to keep my old career quiet. Having a brother who used to be Special Forces, the whole confidentiality thing isn’t new to her.

Shoving my thoughts about kissing Shea to the side, I think for a few seconds before replying, “It’s different, yes. In a small town like Sleepy Hollow, everyone knows who I am. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Going from something so… private… to a position so visible.”

“Yeah, I could see that.” Her forehead wrinkles. “Do you miss it?”

“Not really.” At the surprised rise of her brows, I continue, “I think I was getting tired. Always traveling…” Shit. Now I’m veering dangerously close to breakup territory. “Anyway. Maya got hurt really badly. I don’t know how much you know…”

Sympathy darkens her gaze. “Niall told me the basics. Poor Maya.”

“Yeah. I wanted to be closer to her after that. Not out of the country all the time. So I worked on getting transferred back to Langley. Then Maya got married, she and Cole started trying for a baby, and I didn’t want to miss it. Being an uncle, you know?”

Shea nods. “I get it. Niall and Jade just found out—” Her mouth snaps shut.

“Just what?”

Blushing, Shea leans towards me and whispers, “Jade… she’s pregnant. It’s still early, so they’re not telling other people yet. But I know you won’t say anything.” With a pleased smile, she adds, “So I’m going to be an aunt. Which is so exciting. It’ll betough with them in Texas, but I’ll visit lots, and I have plenty of vacation time…”

Oh.

Now I get it.Reallyget it.

That’s why Shea was so fierce at the Hop-less Horseman. The Shea I knew years ago would have done anything to protect the people she loved. And with Jade being pregnant, I could easily see Shea risking her life to protect her. To protect her unborn niece or nephew.

Shea never thought she was brave. She’d go on and on about how amazing I was, insisting that what I did was so important. So courageous. And she’d say the same things about her brother. But whenever her job would come up, or her hobbies, Shea brushed them off like they meant nothing.

They did, though. Shea loved to write, and she was good at it. Really good. When I met her in Virginia, she was working as a technical writer, but her dream was to get into journalism. To tell stories that would help people.

I know Shea works at a company that provides writing services, but she mentioned something about remote work, so maybe she does journalism on the side. Living so close to New York City, this would be a good spot for it.

Realizing she’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for some kind of answer, I say, “That’s really exciting, Shea. Congratulations on being an almost-aunt.”

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