Page 51 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“Sometimes,” he shrugs, his voice quiet and ignoring the heat behind my question. “I like those sleepy moments with him the most. I like hearing what’s on his mind, even if it’s mostly gibberish.”

I soften slightly, my defenses lowering because I get what he means. “He’s getting better, though. His sentences are clearer, and he’s making more sense.”

Troy nods, his gaze slipping past me, as if he’s avoiding eye contact.

“I can try to keep him up later next time—if I know when you’re getting home. That way you can say goodnight to him.”

His eyes flick back to mine, narrowing slightly. “It’s fine, Georgia. I’d hate to throw off his routine.”

My mind flashes back to when I accused him of not caring enough about his grandson to tell me about his governor bid. I wish I could take back the harshness of those words, but the truth is, even after considering every angle, I still believe he was wrong. Heshouldhave told me, and he still hasn’t admitted it was wrong not to.

“Alright... I’m heading to bed, then,” I say, stepping away, out of his warm hold and towards my room, but before I can get far, his hand wraps around my forearm keeping me in place. The sudden contact sends sparks shooting up my arm as I’m turned to face him.

“Georgia, wait...” His voice softens, and for the first time, there’s something raw in his eyes. “I’m sorry. For everything.” He exhales, running a hand over his jaw. “You were right—I should have told you about the campaign. Trust doesn’t come easy in my world.” He pauses, glancing at Liam’s door. “But I trusted you with him from day one. I knew he’d be safe with you.” He swallows hard, his voice dipping lower. “And I knew I’d be safe with you too.”

I blink, completely caught off guard. “Thank you...”

He nods, his grip loosens slightly, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “I only texted you earlier today about being in the city because I saw a photo online. Looks like someone recognized Liam as my grandson and posted a photo asking who you are.”

My stomach twists. “Oh... what does that mean?”

Troy rubs his jaw, deep in thought. “It means I’ll need to hire security for you and Liam the next time you go to the city. Just let me know when that is, okay? I don’t mind you going, I just want to make sure you’re both safe.”

Safe.

Right, that makes sense.

In all my five years working for the Smiths, I never had to worry about security, or anyone caring to notice me at all. I’d fade into the background during photo ops and stay out of the news. But Troy’s life is different—public. He’s a single, young lawyer running for his first office position and the world is naturally going to be interested in who he is and what he’s up to. The instinct to shield Liam from it all tightens in my chest. I wonder if Troy feels the same.

“Okay.” I nod, but my pulse is racing now, still aware of his hand lingering on my arm.

“Georgia, I…” Troy steps closer, his body pressing into mine as his hands slide up my arm, across my shoulders, stopping at the back of my neck, holding me there firmly in place, head tilted upwards to meet his piercing gaze.

I freeze, my breath catching because this, the way that he’s holding me is intimate. He’s so close—too close. Our breathing syncs, our air shared, and for a moment, it feels like we’re teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Is he going to kiss me?

There’s a spark between us, strong and real, just like the night I kissed him this past weekend. But now, in the quiet darkness outside Liam’s door, no alcohol fueling me forward, the weight of our new responsibilities press down on us—his duties as a father and politician, and mine as Liam’s caretaker.

By daylight, we return to our separate roles, but here in the shadows, something smolders between us, flickering to life just like it did last weekend. And I wonder whether he’ll give into it.

“I…” His voice trails off, and he just holds me there, waiting. One of his big hands cradle the back of my neck, the other is wrapped possessively around my hip. But I’m not making the first move this time. Not again. I don’t think my heart can take the rejection of another unreciprocated kiss.

Finally, he sighs and releases his grip on me. “Good night,” he says, his voice a little rough, his eyes searching mine for something.

I look away.

“Good night, Troy.” I step back, his touch softening, and head down the hallway to my room.

And I don’t dare look back.

Chapter 18 – Troy

Eighteen Years Ago...

“One more, daddy?”

“Alright, Max, one more book.”

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