Chapter 16
RONAN
Some habits die hard, even without a badge. I still walked like rules were for everyone else. I was second-guessing if I should’ve dressed up. Hell, why was I tripping? I used to make critical decisions without breaking a sweat.
As I got closer, I could see she was writing, probably preparing her lecture notes.
My nerves were worse than ever. I wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain or exposed. I’d faced armed suspects with more calm than I had walking up to this five-foot-six woman surrounded by notebooks and bare feet.
I shifted the bouquet from behind my back to my side, not quite ready to present them yet.
What was I even doing here? We’d made no plans to meet, hadn’t exchanged any messages since that night at the food truck.
For all I knew, she’d changed her mind and decided loving Birmingham’s ex-chief of police was more complicated than she needed.
Then I remembered her hand in mine on that park bench. How she hadn’t pulled away when I’d said those three words that changed everything. How she’d looked at me with eyes that held the same fear as mine, but also the same hope.
That was what I had now, hope. After weeks of protecting each other by staying apart, of misunderstandings and federal watchlists and resignations, we had found our way back to the possibility of something real. Something worth fighting for.
I squared my shoulders; the wildflowers grasped firmly in my right hand. I blew out air and stepped across the grass toward her. Toward whatever came next.
Her head came up as my shadow fell across her papers, those deep brown eyes widening for just a second before her whole face lit up with a smile that hit me like a physical force. Damn. That smile could probably power the whole campus if they hooked it up right.
“Ronan, what are you doing here?” she questioned, my name in her mouth sounding like something precious.
I pulled the wildflowers from behind my back, holding them out like an offering. A few stems had gotten slightly crushed in my nervous grip, but the purple and yellow blooms still stood proud, untamed in their beauty, just like the woman they were meant for.
“You said peace doesn’t stay long where love is involved, but I think we can prove that wrong.”
She set aside her pen, eyes moving between my face and the flowers like she was trying to read something written in invisible ink between us. Then she reached up, took the bouquet, and brought it close to breathe in their scent.
“They’re beautiful, and unexpected,” she said softly.
A small smile tugged at my mouth. “Good unexpected, or ‘security’s about to escort you off campus’ unexpected?”
She laughed that free sound I hadn’t heard nearly enough of. “Definitely good, but you still haven’t answered my question. What brings Birmingham’s chief of police to my little spot?”
I lowered myself to the grass beside her. “I resigned. Officially. Paperwork all signed and processed as of this morning.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Wait, I knew they suspended you, but . . . resigned? Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I held her gaze, wanting her to see the certainty I felt. “I’m sure. The DOJ position is official, too. I start in three weeks.”
“Whaaat! Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m asking you to stay after your lecture series, Nia.”
She set the flowers carefully on top of her stacked papers, buying herself time. I recognized the gesture, having seen her use it in community forums when she was gathering her thoughts, making sure her response was measured and true.
“You’re choosing this over your badge? Over the position you worked your whole career for?”
“I’m choosing us, and the truth is that badge stopped fitting right a long time ago. Maybe it never did. I just got so used to wearing it,” I corrected gently.
The sun caught the gold flecks in her eyes as she studied me, her expression thoughtful. “And what about the work you were doing in Birmingham? The reforms you were pushing for?”
“Still believe in all of it, but now I’ll be doing it from a different angle, one with actual teeth. I want to build a life where loving each other strengthens us, not divides. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night.”
Surprise flickered across her face.
“That’s a lot of certainty for a man who just walked away from everything he knew,” she commented.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
“Who are you now? Without the badge, without the uniform, who is Ronan Banks?”
I could have given her the professional answer: ex-police chief, future DOJ investigator, law enforcement reformer. Could have wrapped myself in new titles to replace the old ones, but that wasn’t what she was really asking. And it wasn’t what I needed to say.
“I’m still a man who believes in the work, just not from behind a badge.”
For years, I’d defined myself by my job, my authority, and the respect that came with it. I’d worn the title Chief Banks like armor, but sitting here with Nia, seeing the way she looked at me, none of those titles mattered as much as who I was without them.
“You make it sound so simple.”
I lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m tired of complicating something that feels right just because the world says it shouldn’t.”
“I’ve spent my whole career fighting systems. I never really thought about building something instead, but now that you mention it, I’m tired, too.”
“Maybe it’s time we both tried something new.”
“I think I’d like to find out what that looks like.” Nia smiled.
I stood up first, brushing grass from my jeans before extending both hands to Nia.
She looked up at me, placing her hands on mine.
I pulled her to her feet with perhaps a little more force than necessary, bringing her body close enough to mine that I could feel the heat of her, smell the faint scent of whatever she put in her hair.
Her papers scattered across the grass as she rose, caught in the sudden breeze of our movement, but neither of us looked down or away. Some things mattered more than perfect order.
“Your papers,” I said, not making any move to release her hands or step back.
She glanced briefly at the papers now decorating the grass like oversized confetti. “They’ll wait.”
My arms slid around her waist naturally, like they belonged there.
“I’d like to take you to dinner tonight and tomorrow night. And every night after that, if you’ll let me.”
She laughed, the vibration through her chest into mine, where we touched. Her hands came to rest on my chest. “That sounds like more than just dinner.”
I tightened my hold on her waist just slightly, enough to draw her closer. “It is. It’s everything. I’m not asking you to trust me anymore. I’m promising you can.”
Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of my shirt. “Everything, huh? That’s a lot to promise on a random Tuesday afternoon.”
“I’ve been heading here since that holding cell. I just took the scenic route.” I chuckled.
I pressed my forehead to hers, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. Her eyes were so close I could see every fleck of gold and amber in the deep brown, every question and answer swirling there.
“I don’t want anything fragile. I’ve had enough broken things in my life.”
I tightened my grip on her waist and lifted her just enough for her feet to leave the ground. She let out a small sound of surprise and grabbed my shoulders for balance. I held her there, my strength matching her lightness.
“What we survived—federal detention, government watchlists, both of us trying to protect each other by staying apart—I’d say we’re anything but fragile. We’re iron forged in fire, Nia. That’s us.” I set her back down gently, keeping my arms around her.
She stood on her tiptoes, moving her hands from my chest to my face, cupping my jaw gently. Then she kissed me, right there on the campus green as students walked by and faculty glanced our way. She kissed me like we were just two people who had fought hard to find each other, not caring who saw.
Her lips were soft against mine, but there was nothing cautious in the way she claimed me. When she finally pulled back, just far enough to speak, we were both breathing harder, hands still holding on like the other might disappear if we let go.
“Pick me up at seven, and Ronan? Don’t be late,” she said, her voice husky.
She bent down to gather her scattered papers; the movement gave me a view that temporarily short-circuited my brain. When she straightened, arms full of papers and wildflowers, there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth that was pure mischief.
“And bring an overnight bag. I don’t plan on letting you leave.”
My body responded instantly to her words, a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the Alabama sun beating down on us. “Yes, ma’am,” was all I could manage, earning another of those laughs I was quickly becoming addicted to.
She backed away a few steps, still facing me, like she couldn’t quite bring herself to turn around just yet. “I have office hours until five.”
“I’ll be there at seven, on the dot,” I promised.
“See that you are.” With one last smile that held promises of its own, she turned and walked away, her sundress bright against the green of the campus, her bare feet now slipped back into sandals she’d gathered from the grass.
I watched her go, admiring the confidence in her stride, the way she held her head high like a queen surveying her domain.
Students parted for her as she passed, some greeting her, and she answered with warm familiarity.
Dr. Price was in her element, respected, admired, and powerful in her own right.
And tonight, she’d be waiting for me, Ronan, the man she’d seen beneath the uniform from that first moment in the holding cell.
For the first time since we met, there were no barriers between us, no badge, no watchlist, no fear, nothing keeping us apart.
I turned toward the parking lot, already calculating out how long it would take to get home, shower, pack an overnight bag, and make dinner reservations somewhere special. Seven o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.