Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
RILEY
Ciara shifts on the bed, groaning softly as she tries to roll onto her side, before muttering a string of curses and flopping onto her back.
“Are you good?” I prop myself up on an elbow.
“What do you think?” She drapes one hand dramatically over her swollen belly. “I’m carrying two small humans who think my ribs are a trampoline. I haven’t slept through the night in weeks, and if Ronan so much as looks at me with that worried face one more time, I might actually strangle him.”
I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “So…you’re good?”
That earns me a groggy smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Do you want me to grab you another pillow? Maybe wedge it under your back?”
Ciara shakes her head. “Unless it can teleport me to the day after I give birth, I think I’m stuck like this. I don’t think anyone will be able to tell the difference between me and a beluga whale at this point.”
“You’ll get your body back. Honestly, you look amazing.”
Somehow, she pulls off wearing a matching pink sweatsuit and a messy bun in a way that I could only dream of.
“You’re sweet, but my ankles are swollen to the size of grapefruits, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I washed my hair. Oh, and Ronan had to help me put on socks this morning, which was deeply humiliating.”
I chuckle. “I bet he said it was an honor.”
“You’re not wrong.” She smirks, then her expression softens. “But still, these kids better be cute for the hell they’ve put me through.”
“You know they’re going to come out looking like mini-Ronans, right? The Sullivan genes are strong.”
“Traitors.”
“Have you thought about names?” I take a pillow and lean it against the footboard so we can face each other.
Ciara’s eyes gleam with sudden mischief, and I frown.
“What?”
“I gave Ronan a whole list of my favorite names and told him I was dead set on them.”
“And?”
She laughs. “They’re all absolutely horrible. I told him I loved names like Wolfgang and Cornelius.”
“You did not.”
“Oh, I did. You should have seen his face when I suggested Wolfgang. He looked like he was about to combust. ‘Over my dead body, Ciara.’” Her impression of Ronan’s low growl is so perfect that I clutch my stomach, tears forming in my eyes.
“You’re evil.”
“Maybe, but it’s keeping me entertained.”
I shake my head, trying to hold in my laughter. “You’ll traumatize the poor man before the babies even get here.”
She smirks. “He’ll survive. Besides, it’s fun watching him squirm. I told him I wanted a strong, traditional name if it’s a boy, like…Thaddeus.”
I can’t help but snort. “That sounds like a stuffy old professor.”
“Exactly,” she says proudly. “And if it’s a girl… Mildred. ‘Milly’ for short.”
“Careful, that one could almost be cute.”
“I know.” Ciara winces. “I might end up shooting myself in the foot here. But you should do the same with Kieran. It would be hilarious.”
The thought makes my heart flutter and sink at the same time, but I force a smile. “Maybe someday.”
Ciara narrows her eyes at me. “You know, I would start thinking of names sooner than later. Nine months really is not a lot of time.”
“Moonbeam,” I blurt. “Moon for short.”
Ciara stares at me in mock horror, and I can’t help but laugh.
“No.”
“Yes!” I grin. “Moonbeam Sullivan. I think it flows beautifully.”
“If you actually name your kid that, I’ll personally stage an intervention and adopt it myself.”
“So you can name it something like Gertrude instead?”
“For your information, I think Gertie is a wonderful name.”
“You better be joking.”
We go back and forth like that for a while, tossing out progressively more ridiculous names until we both have tears in our eyes from trying to hold in our laughter. For a moment, it almost feels normal.
But it doesn’t take long for Ciara’s eyelids to begin to droop with tiredness.
Her hand rests protectively on her belly as she mumbles something about adding Bartholomew to the list before her voice trails off, and within seconds, she’s asleep.
She looks peaceful, but I know it’s a fragile peace. Any day now, her entire world will change, hopefully for the better.
I should close my eyes and try to rest while I can, but my mind won’t let me. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.
The faint hum of the old house settles around me, the sound of the clock ticking and the rustle of the wind against the windows.
I start counting the seconds as they tick by on the clock, hoping the monotony will help quiet my mind enough to let me drift off to sleep. But I’ve barely reached thirty when I catch the rumble of voices coming from downstairs.
It’s faint enough that I wonder if I’ve imagined it.
The voices are both too deep for it to just be Dr. Allen and his wife. Besides, I heard Mari disappear inside her room not long ago, and she never left.
Which means someone else is here.
Carefully, I slip off the bed so as not to wake Ciara and creep toward the door.
Every instinct tells me to stay put, but the not knowing gnaws at me.
Kieran and Ronan think they’re doing me a favor by downplaying the situation, but the reality of not knowing how serious things are is making me feel worse.
Holding my breath, I slowly open the door and creep down the hall, following the sound of the voices. It’s only when I reach the top of the stairs that I realize who Dr. Allen is talking to.
Ronan.
Sneaking down the first few steps, I peer over the banister.
Ronan is standing in the living room.
I don’t need to hear what he’s saying to know it’s bad. I can tell from the stiffness in his shoulders and the way he keeps clenching his hands into fists, as if he’s fighting the urge to send one into the wall.
Something is very, very wrong.
For a split second, I worry that they’re discussing my pregnancy. But then I realize that would be ridiculous. Only Ciara knows, and she hasn’t had the chance to tell Dr. Allen without me being present. Unless he could somehow have guessed it on his own…
If Kieran finds out from someone other than me that he’s going to be a father, I don’t think he would forgive me.
I don’t bother muffling the rest of my footsteps as I descend the stairs, and at the sound, Ronan spins around and freezes at the sight of me.
“What’s going on?” My voice shakes, but I force myself to stand tall as I face Ronan.
If he has a problem with me carrying Kieran’s child, then he can say it to my face. He might think he can intimidate me, but he’s wrong. I’ve dealt with many intimidating men in my life, and I’m past the point of trying to appease them.
Both men look up at once and their conversation instantly dies at my approach. The doctor’s face is grave, but it’s Ronan’s expression that makes my stomach turn to lead.
“Pack your things. I’m taking you both back to the house.”
“Back? Why? What happened?”
“Don’t argue.”
“Has something happened to Kieran?”
Ronan ignores my question. “Now, Riley.”
The urgency in his voice makes my skin prickle, but I don’t push him for an explanation. There will be time for that later.
Right now, I need to go and wake up Ciara and get her the hell out of this house.
She’s still fast asleep when I enter the bedroom, so I cross over to her and start shaking her shoulder.
“Ciara. Wake up.”
“Riley? What is it?”
“Ronan’s here. We need to go. Now.”
Her eyes fly open at my words. “Ronan’s here? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. But it sounds urgent.” I kneel by the small pile of belongings we managed to unpack and quickly shove them back into our bags. Though my hands are shaking so badly it takes me a few attempts to zip them closed.
Ciara pushes herself upright, grimacing slightly as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed.
I grab her arm to steady her, but just as I help her stand, the crack of gunfire cuts through the house.
The sound is deafening, and I swallow a cry as the floor shakes beneath my feet.
Before I can even catch my breath, another gunshot cracks through the air, and Ciara gasps, her legs buckling beneath her.
My body reacts before my brain can catch up, and I force her down into the small gap between the bed and the dresser, dragging blankets down from the bed to cover her.
“Stay down. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”
My heart is hammering so hard against my ribs that it hurts to breathe as more gunshots sound from downstairs.
I catch the sound of footsteps beyond the bedroom door, followed by a scream so gut-wrenching it knocks the air from my lungs.
Mari.
Ciara throws the blanket off of her and claws at my hand.
“Riley—”
“I promised Ronan I would take care of you, and I don’t plan on breaking that promise. So, stay here, and stay hidden.”
Ciara’s green eyes are wide with fear, but I force myself to pull my hand free and get to my feet.
My legs are trembling so badly I have to hold onto the dresser as I make my way toward the door.
It feels idiotic to be moving toward the sound of the gunshots, but if something has happened to Ronan, it’s up to me to protect Ciara. I might not legally be a Sullivan, but I consider myself one in every other way, and I know that Sullivans do whatever it takes to protect their family.
And Ciara is my family.
I slowly peel the door open and edge out of the room, making sure to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible.
The gunshots seem to have stopped, but I know the worst will be far from over.
The first thing I see when I reach the stairs is blood. It’s everywhere. Splatters of it cover the walls, and a large puddle of it is seeping into the dark wood flooring of the living room.
“Oh, my god,” I gasp.
Dr. Allen lies sprawled among the pool of blood with his chest torn open by at least a dozen bullet holes.
Ronan is kneeling beside him, his hands pressed desperately against the wounds, but blood continues to seep out of them.
Mari crouches beside him, her own hands covered in blood as her body violently shakes with the force of her sobs.
“Riley.”
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
“Riley. I need you to hold pressure on these wounds.”
I blink, and Ronan is staring up at me with nothing but determination in his eyes.
Shaking, I descend the stairs.
I’m so consumed by what I just saw that I almost trip over the two bodies lying in a heap at the bottom.
“Quickly, Riley!”
Bile burns my throat as I stumble over the bodies to where Ronan is crouched over Dr. Allen.
“Put your hands here,” he orders.
I sink to my knees beside Dr. Allen, trying to ignore the strangled sobs coming from Mari, and place my hands on one of the bullet wounds in his side.
The amount of blood pooling beneath him is enough to tell me that he’s gone.
“Ronan…” I look down into Dr. Allen’s unseeing eyes.
Ronan’s jaw tightens as he presses down harder on one of the wounds, not hearing me.
“Ronan, it’s no use. We can’t save him.”
Mari’s answering cry echoes around the still house, but it’s enough to pull Ronan out of whatever dark place he disappeared to.
“We need to get out of here. Now.”