Walk the Line (Man of the Month 12)

"Brent," she said when Faith was finally tucked back in and they'd returned to the living room, both of them knowing by unspoken consent that they couldn't return to his bedroom. Not together, anyway.

It was the first word they'd said to each other since he'd found her and Faith on the bed, and it seemed to hang in the room like a warning. Because, damn him, he wanted to answer her. Wanted to respond not just to his name, but to that tone. A tone that said that she was with him. That she was his.

But he couldn't trust it. How the hell could he trust it when he already knew that she was talking with companies on the west coast for jobs when she graduated in two years?

And wouldn't that be great? Two years of getting closer to Faith and then, wham, bam, boom, there she goes.

No.

No way in hell was he doing that to his daughter.

"Brent," she said again. "Listen to me."

"I'm sorry, Elena. I'm so damn sorry, but we both knew this wasn't permanent."

"Maybe I want it to be." She looked defiantly into his eyes, and his heart twisted as his resolve weakened. But no. No.

He drew in a breath. "It's not about what you want. Hell, it's not about what I want. It's not even about what Faith wants. It's about what's best for her. And Elena, that's not you. It can't be you, because we both know you're going away."

"No," she said earnestly, "I'm not." She drew in a breath and pressed her fingers to her temples before perching on the edge of the sofa, looking a bit like a lost little girl herself in the old robe of his that he'd given her.

When she lifted her head, he saw pain in her eyes, and he hated that he was the one who put it there. But there would be pain--that was inevitable. And it was his job to see that it wasn't Faith who suffered.

"Listen to me, Brent. I'm not going anywhere. I was planning to tell you tomorrow. I made up my mind. I'm staying right here."

He flinched, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of her words.

"I get it, you know. I understand what you're doing for Faith, and I get it. Hell, I agree with it. I grew up without a father, remember? I understand what you're trying to protect. And because I do, I decided to stay."

He said nothing, but he sat in the chair opposite her.

She licked her lips and plowed on. "I love you," she said, and instead of settling over him warm and soft, the words seemed to burn through him, leaving painful scars that seared his soul.

"And I know you're going to say I'm too young," she continued, "but I'm certain of it."

"Elena--"

"No." She cut him off sharply. "Dammit, Brent, I want a chance. You don't have to say you love me back right away," she added, and the fact of his love sat heavy inside him.

"But I know that you do," she continued. "I can feel it, Brent, and I know you can, too. And ... well, because of that, I've been looking at only certain jobs. Ones that are either here or that will let me work from here. There are lots of opportunities. I don't have to go away to do what I want. You're afraid of stealing my dream, and I get that. But you aren't. And you're afraid that I'll change my mind and steal Faith's heart. But you're wrong. I won't. I'm staying. For the work. And because I love you."

She sat back, her expression tight, almost exhausted. "Please," she added softly. "Please say something."

"I can't take the risk," he said, forcing the words out. "She'll only remember tonight as a dream. Won't even know what she called you. But it doesn't matter. That feeling is already inside her. It's going to be hard enough having you leave as a friend. I can't risk her mother walking away."

"I told you." Her words came out clipped, bordering on angry. "I'm not going to."

"You say that now, but you're not even out of graduate school. Things change, Elena."

"Don't you treat me like a child." The words snapped and crackled, alive with fury. "I'm not Olivia, dammit. And you need to stop looking for her around every corner. Brent, please," she added, her tone softening. "Don't deny yourself or Faith a relationship just because you're scared."

A cold hand tightened around his heart, and his mouth went dry. But all he did was shake his head. "I think you need to go now."

"Brent. Please."

"I'm sorry. But you need to go."

Elena didn't want to talk to anyone, much less Hannah or Selma, who were so happy with their men and had been so convinced that she'd find happiness with Brent.