Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty Three
Skyla
Ihit the call button, only to be sent to voicemail for the third time. Frowning, I look down at my phone to verify that I have service. Maybe it’s something with his phone? Maybe they’re in the air. That doesn’t make sense, though. They have Wi-Fi on the plane. He could at least shoot me a message.
Wesley promised me he would be home by lunchtime today, and with bedtime quickly approaching, my anxiety is rising.
My hands go to my belly, nervously rubbing it as I attempt to calm myself down.
Asher told me not to worry, that they’ll be here soon.
When I pressed for more details like if they were okay, he shrugged it off.
Something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut.
“Hey, I just got off the phone with Zay. They just landed,” Blake says as she steps into the room.
“Is Wesley with them? Is he okay?” I ask, unable to mask the fear in my words.
I hear heavy footsteps echo through the hall and look to see Ronan step into the light, though he doesn’t look as anxious as I do. Blake gives me a sympathetic look that has my stomach flipping and my eyes widening.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
“No! No, no, no,” she quickly says. “He’s okay; he’s fine. He was shot, and the doctor said that he needed surgery, but they couldn’t go to a hospital. They needed to come back to the States, so the doctor did the surgery in the air.”
“At that elevation? In a non-sterile environment? You’re fucking kidding me?” Ronan balks, shaking his head.
I look up at him with concern. “Did you know he was shot?”
He looks down at me and nods once. “Ash told me, but Vincent told him that he was fine. I didn’t know it was bad enough to require surgery. I…” He trails off, shaking his head as his arm comes to me, pulling me towards him like I’m a security blanket.
“Where is he now?” I ask Blake.
“They were moving him into the car. I guess the doctor recommended anesthesia, but since that wasn’t possible on the plane, they loaded him up with as many drugs as he could.”
I bury my head into Ronan’s chest, imagining the worst. His hand comes to the back of my head, rubbing it soothingly as he speaks to Blake.
“He’s gonna be okay, though?”
I turn my head to see her nod. “Yeah, it was two shots. One through his shoulder and one through his arm. They just went down and dirty. Dug in, scraped out the bullets and did what they could to clean up the tissue before sewing him up.”
Ronan’s body stiffens, but he continues rubbing my head. I think he’s the one who needs to be soothed right now, though.
Blake takes the moment to quietly slip away, and I pull my head back to look at Ronan. His features are hard and filled with emotion, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
“Hey, Ronan. Look at me,” I practically beg.
Slowly, he does, the fear plain as day in his eyes now that he’s looking at me.
“He’s okay.”
“He’s okay,” he repeats.
“We’re not gonna lose him.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and nods. We stand there in silence for a few seconds before I speak.
“Have you told him yet?”
His eyes open, and he tilts his head. “Told him?”
“How you feel about him?” I say gently.
Ronan has denied having feelings further than lust or friendship for years.
We’ve all allowed it because denial seemed to be where he was content living, and Wesley didn’t seem to mind…
too much. I can see the shift between them more than ever, though.
I see Wesley desperate for his love, for his words.
I think he needs to hear them just as bad as Ronan needs to speak them.
Ronan doesn’t respond for a moment—then he jerkily nods. That takes me by surprise, but I try not to let it show.
“When did this happen?”
“A few days ago. We were going to tell you, but things have just been so…”
“Insane,” I fill in.
He nods. “To say the least. I’m sorry.”
I tilt my head to the side in question. “What on earth are you sorry for?”
“I don’t know, I feel like I’ve… cheated on you or something. I love you more than anything in the world—you’ve been my number one since I first saw you in my pool.”
I smile at the reminder as he continues.
“But I… I love Wesley too. How fucked is that?”
I do my best not to invalidate his feelings, but how silly can this man be?
“Ro, you know that I love you; I love all of you. If I can love all five of you equally and it not be cheating, why can’t you love Wesley and me just the same?”
He frowns like he doesn’t see it that way.
I lift my hand to cup his cheek, pulling his gaze from the floor and back onto me.
“It’s not cheating. You’re in love; you’re following your heart.
Our relationship is all about trust and communication.
I trust you with everything I am. Now, if you told me you and Wesley were running away together and leaving me, that would be a different conversation. ”
“Never,” he insists, shaking his head fiercely.
“Or if you told me you fell in love with another woman—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence, baby,” he scoffs.
I smile at him. “Then I’m good. We’re good, and I’m so happy for both of you.”
He nods, and though he doesn’t say much, I see almost a lightness settle over him. As if a weight has physically been lifted from his shoulders. He stands a little straighter and smiles a little wider.
“I love you—so much,” he says.
“I love you more.”
I’m gently woken up with the feeling of someone rubbing my arm. My eyes flutter open, and I look up to see Wesley standing over me, wavering slightly as he looks down at me with a smile.
“I’m sorry, little one. Vincent took my phone; I just saw all your messages and calls.”
I lean up, and Liam slumps off me, turning around to snuggle with Asher as Ronan’s eyes flutter open on my right, looking up at Wesley.
“Hey,” he rasps.
Wesley smiles down at him. “Hey.”
“I heard you got shot, dumbass,” Ronan says, and Wesley laughs.
“I’m only laughing because I’m loaded up with drugs right now. As soon as they wear off, I’m fucked.”
Ronan nods at that as he sits up more. “Are you heading to bed?”
“Yeah, just wanted to say I’m sorry for worrying you,” he says to me before his eyes come to Ronan. “Both of you.”
I smile as Ronan slips out of the bed and stands beside Wesley.
“Come on—I’ll help you get settled.”
Wesley smiles at him again, then shoots me a quick wink before Ronan slips a hand into his and guides him quietly out of the room. I watch them go with a content sigh before settling back into the pillows, but I’m only alone for moments before Vincent appears.
“Siren,” he says.
“I missed you.”
He nods as he peels off his leather jacket and begins kicking off his boots and jeans.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he says as he climbs into bed with me, wrapping his arms and legs around me simultaneously.
The familiar scent of him fills my senses, and a calming sensation falls over me.
“I’m mad at you, though,” I murmur into his chest.
It’s like I can feel him frown or, more likely, can just imagine it as he speaks.
“What for?”
Pulling back far enough to look at him in the darkened room, I shake my head. “You took Wesley’s phone? So you knew I was calling and texting, worried sick. You couldn’t have answered? Shot me a text.”
His lips remain mashed together for several moments before he speaks. “I didn’t want to give you the wrong information.”
I frown, unsure what he means.
“He lost a lot of blood. He had to be carried to and from the plane. The doctor we brought with us only had so much in stock to give him. We thought he was decently fine at first, but… it got a little touch and go.”
Fear twists inside me. That’s not how anyone else made it sound at all. Maybe that’s why Vincent didn’t answer, though. He can’t lie to me—he refuses. He’d rather go off the grid for a week after he’s selected my birthday present, fearful I’ll get it out of him because he’s that loyal.
“You could have told me something,” I argue.
He gives me a dubious look as his hand softly runs up and down my spine. “Do you honestly believe you would have been content with an ‘I’ve got him. Talk soon’ text?”
“Well, no—”
“Exactly. I did what was best for you, siren. You and our baby.”
I want to argue, but Vincent decides that our conversation is over and presses his lips to mine.
He holds me like that for several seconds, like he craves my touch more than the actual kiss before his tongue slips out, tangling with my own.
We sit there for countless minutes, maybe even hours, holding each other, kissing and touching.
I try no less than three times to climb on top of him, but each time he gently places me back down onto the bed and resumes kissing me.
I’ll settle for now, but I better get no less than three orgasms when I wake up. You know, for pain and suffering and whatnot.