Chapter 40
Ronan
Rule number one: never assume I know what he’s feeling. I ask him. His instructions were clear on that one. So I ask.
“Is that not what you want?”
He doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches too long, thick and awful between us.
How am I supposed to follow the rules if he isn’t?
He said he would explain, but he’s not explaining anything.
He’s not saying a word. Not for the first time since I met Colton, I hate the way my brain works.
Hate that every second of silence feels sharpened into something dangerous.
Hate that I can’t stop myself from filling it with all the worst possibilities.
How could I expect him to want me the way I want him?
I start to pull away, but his hand closes around my waist before I can get far.
“Hold on a minute.” His grip tightens just slightly, not enough to trap me, just enough to keep me there. His throat works around a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard.
“I’m just surprised,” he says, voice rougher than before.
“And a little stunned.” His eyes flick over my face.
“You just announced that you want to marry me.” A disbelieving huff of breath leaves him.
“That’s a little crazy, don’t you think?
We just met,” he says more quietly. “And you really don’t know me outside of all the shit.
” His fingers flex once against my side.
“Hell, I don’t even think I know me anymore. ”
“Colton, I know who you are. You’re smart, kind, and strong.
You gave up your own life to protect your brother.
You just faced your enemies without backing down.
” I cup the side of his face. “You know who I am. Or more correctly, who I want to be for you and Ollie. I’ve been told that. ” Colton cuts me off.
“I don’t care what you have been told, Ronan.
I do see who you are, and I don’t want you to be any different from who you are right now.
I want everything with you, but let’s slow down for a minute.
I’m not saying no or that it’s not what’s going to happen.
I have a feeling that when you decide something, there is no talking you out of it. ”
He’s right. Once I decide something, it’s impossible to shake loose.
And I know this with the same certainty.
He’s mine. I realize something in this moment.
It’s not in the possessive way I thought about ownership of him, but in the quiet, soul-deep way that feels like fate.
Like, somehow I had been walking around with something missing my whole life, and now here he was. Mine. Forever.
I kissed him before I could say any of it. I poured everything into it. All the fear, the relief, the certainty, the terrifying amount of love already taking root inside me. My hands slid up into his hair, holding him close while he kissed me back just as hard, just as desperate.
A throat clearing behind me brings me back to the present, aware of our surroundings again. Still holding Colton against me, I look over my shoulder. Gloria stands at the top of the stone stairs, cheeks pink and a sly smile on her lips.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Murphy is waiting to speak to you.”
I roll my eyes. Dad’s just being impatient as usual. I swear the man only has patience for Mom. My attention goes back to Colton. His face is flushed, and he’s smiling shyly. I can’t stop myself. I run my finger across his cheek and press gently at the dimple. It’s fascinating.
“We good?” I ask, still tracing the divot.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
I nod and wrap my arm around his waist to lead him into the house.
Only now, so I notice the security guards.
My parents’ place has always been our safe haven, so I’m not used to being on guard here.
But since it was part of security that tried to kill Colton and take Ollie, I should be more diligent.
“Hello, Ms. Gloria. Could you tell me where Ollie is?” Colton’s voice is steady when he asks. Hopefully, that means he is doing okay mentally. I need some time to research PTSD and emotional numbness. Whether I can help him through it or we need to get a professional, it needs to be a priority.
“He’s in the playroom with Mrs. Murphy.”
I cock my eyebrow at her. This house hasn’t had a playroom in fifteen years. Not since my brothers and I were little. She notices my questioning stare. She smiles brightly.
“It’s the same one you all had when you were little.
It makes me so happy to hear the playful laugh of a child in this house again.
” She walks toward the hallway that holds several rooms. One being the old playroom.
I think it was originally meant to be a ballroom or something similar on the blueprints.
Mom turned it into a kid’s dream. So I’m not surprised when we walk through the door and find it that way once again.
“Holy shit,” Colton says under his breath.
I’m used to Mom doing things like this, but seeing it through his eyes, I can understand the reaction.
The room looks like a child-sized wonderland exploded inside it.
There’s an indoor swing and slide set tucked into one corner, shelves lined with books, bins full of toys, and a giant art table covered in crayons, finger paints, and stacks of paper.
Though, honestly, I’m not sure what kind of art a one-year-old is supposed to make. It’s not like Ollie can paint a landscape. Most days, he can barely keep food in his mouth.
Franklin is kneeling on the far side of the room, putting together what looks like a miniature kitchen set. Ollie stands beside him, solemnly handing him random pieces like he’s an assistant on a construction site.
“That’s broccoli,” Franklin says seriously, holding up a green plastic piece. “Broccoli makes you strong.” Ollie nods like he understands every word.
He’s just picked up a tiny frying pan when he finally notices us standing in the doorway.
His whole face lights up. Still clutching the pan, he starts toward us on unsteady legs, wobbling side to side with every step.
A sharp image flashes through my mind—him falling, hitting the floor with that toy trapped under him.
I’m moving before I can stop myself. I cross the room in two quick strides and scoop him up against my chest.
“Don’t wobble walk with things in your hand,” I tell him as gently as I can, easing the frying pan from his fingers.
He only blinks at me. Then his smile stretches even wider, and he presses his wet, sticky mouth against my cheek.
Every muscle in my body locks. My first instinct is to put him down and find the nearest sink, preferably with industrial-strength soap.
Instead, I tighten my hold on him automatically, forcing myself to stay still while drool and whatever he last ate cool against my skin. Ollie just pats my cheek proudly. I can only imagine what his sticky palm adds.
Colton laughs softly, and when I look over at him, his laugh becomes a full-on, belly-rumbling, bent-at-the-waist laugh.
“Your face. Oh my God, the look on your face.” He says between howling. He grabs a small towel from a padded table and wipes my cheek with it.
“Not funny.” I deadpan.
“It so is. He’s a baby Ronan, and he’s teething. He’s not some germ infested science experiment.”
“I know that. I’m just not used to it.” Not that I think I will ever be used to it, but here we are.
Ollie tugs at the toy that I’d taken from him.
I give it back. Since I’m holding him, he’s in no danger.
He babbles something about it and then reaches for Colton.
He takes the baby from me and discusses it as if it holds the secrets of the world.
“I’m going to see what Dad needs. I’ll be right back.” I kiss Colton and then Ollie.
Dad’s office is utilitarian in its furnishings.
A large desk sits in the center of the room, with heavy dark wood bookshelves lining one wall.
Everything is solid and expensive without being flashy.
The walls are mostly bare except for a few framed family photos.
Nothing in here is decorative unless it serves a purpose.
“You wanted to see me.”
“Yeah, Finn and Conor found where those bastards were hiding. They left their phones behind, but they weren’t there.” Dad’s mouth hardens into a thin line. “Until we track them down, I think you should stay here. I’ve increased security.”
I glance toward the door automatically, toward where Colton is somewhere else in the house.
“Colton wants to go home,” I say. “I told him we could.”
No matter how much I want him here, I want to give him what he needs more. And right now, what he needs is the apartment. Dad watches me for a second, like he already knows exactly why I’m saying it.
“Then explain what’s going on,” he says. “See if he’s willing to stay here a few more nights.”
“I’ll talk to him. I’ll need to pick up some of his things and some of mine if he’s willing to stay.”
Dad nods once, and that’s the end of it. I leave the office, pulling the door shut behind me. I’ll talk to Colton. But I won’t push. If he still wants to leave after I explain everything, then we’ll go. I’ll take a couple of the extra guards with us, make sure he and Ollie are safe.
Whatever happens, I’ll make it work.