“Sometimes, Taylor…” He plants his hands on his hips, his upper lip curling. Hesitating. “Maybe it’s better to hide.”
“That’s what you’re doing,” I whisper. “Hiding. Running away from what happened in Boston with the kidnapping.”
“So what if I am?” He’s shutting himself off. Lights are going out. Exits are being sealed. It’s like watching a brick and mortar wall being built in fast motion capture. “I like it that way. The way it was before I accepted this job. I like having no connection to a case. Not getting in so deep that every failure is personal. Not having to worry that someone I care about could get taken or traumatized. Or having her fucking head blown off. Willingly.”
“Don’t group me in with what happened in Boston.”
He grinds a fist into the opposite palm, knuckles white, grooves deepening around his mouth. “I will group you in, Taylor. I can’t help it. You’re pain waiting to happen and I’m not going to be a sitting duck. I can’t fucking do it.”
“Myles—”
“What do you think a relationship between us would look like, anyway?” His expression is hard now. Closed off. Intuition tells me he’s about to put the final nail in the coffin and there is nothing I can do to stop him. I put myself in danger and he’s not equipped to deal with that kind of trauma. That lack of control. I brought his worst fear to him on a silver platter and he’s lashing out. There’s nothing I can do about it. “Maybe you’ll come on the road with me, half pint, and we can hunt down bad guys together. Make a cool handshake and bring your students along on stakeout field trips.”
My throat starts to burn, along with the backs of my eyes. “I know you just want to push me away. I know that’s what you’re doing.”
“You should have waited at the end of the block,” he blurts, swiping sweat from his forehead. Pacing away and coming back. Opening his mouth and closing it. Silence.
So much silence.
“Maybe I made a mistake blocking the mayor in with my car when I didn’t know if the threat was serious. Okay? Maybe it was a mistake. But even if I’d gone and waited at the end of the block like a good little soldier, there would have been a next time. A time for you to feel vulnerable—if we tried to make this work. In the future, I’d have gotten a flat tire on the side of a dark road without you. Or maybe I’d finally get the courage to go skydiving with Jude—”
The look of absolute horror he gives me would be funny if this conversation wasn’t so excruciating.
“And you’d remember I’m a liability. A threat to the emotionless life you’re so determined to lead. And you’d push me away. Best to do it now before things get too complicated, right? Get it over with?”
I take a step closer to him and his jaw bunches, fingers flexing at his sides. Almost like he’s scared I’ll touch him and he’ll crumble. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d apologize for his harsh words and we’d kiss and go home together, but our root issues would still exist.
“There is nothing emotionless about guilt,” I continue, doing my best to keep my voice even. “About the way you’re punishing yourself. Terrible things happen sometimes, but you can’t avoid the high of happiness or joy, because you’re too afraid of falling from a great height. Maybe I learned some of that lesson myself since we met. I just…” This is getting too hard. Standing so close to him and not walking into his arms, having that warmth permeate me when I need it the most. “You never made me any promises, Myles. Even if you wanted to. So I hereby absolve you of any guilt where I’m concerned. Okay? That being said…” Chin up, I look him right in the eye. “It’s your loss, bounty hunter.”
“Taylor,” he rasps.
Turning on a heel, I walk away. I leave him behind me, literally and figuratively, because I don’t have another choice. I won’t get more attached when he’s made it clear that he’s an island in the middle of the ocean. Unreachable. A loner that commits to no one. My dream is to have the opposite. A warm, committed relationship where it’s a given that we are in every adventure, every tragedy, together. No questions asked. Myles wants the road—and he never made any bones about it—so my only option is to give my statement to the police, go home and embark on day one of mending my broken heart.
Chapter 20
Myles
* * *
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on the edge of my bed in this motel room, staring into space. My bag is packed on the ground. Did I ever even unpack it?