Ronan
ronan
O ne moment, Willow was on the barstool beside me, and the next, she was on the dirty floor. I leapt to my feet, my arms outstretched. It was too damn dark to see if she was seriously injured, but she wouldn’t look at me, at anyone, and that made me uneasy.
She’s hurt.
She’s hurt.
She’s hurt.
The thought planted like an unwanted seed in my mind, repeating over and over until it was the only thing I could focus on.
“Willow.” My voice came out harsher than I intended, but I couldn’t control myself. Fear had already wrapped its icy fingers around my throat and squeezed.
How badly was she hurt? Had she cracked her tailbone or hurt her spine? The thoughts whirled in my head like a tornado, spiraling around and around, each one worse than the last.
And the only thing I could focus on was that she was hurt. Not that she was on the floor, or that she might be embarrassed.
She was hurt.
My vision blurred, past and present blending together. For a moment—a fleeting moment that came and went so quickly, I wasn’t sure it even happened—I was back in Trinity’s room five years ago. Her blood was on my hands— she was hurt.
My heart crawled up my throat, pulse beating rapidly as I glanced toward my sister. But she was fine—of course she was. It was Willow that was hurt. We were at The Taphouse, not in Trinity’s room.
There was no blood.
No death lingering in the air.
Nothing but neon lights and music blasting from the speakers.
I was fine, and Trinity was fine, but Willow wasn’t.
Reaching down, I wrapped my hands around Willow’s arms. She winced as I pulled her to her feet, but her gaze remained downcast. “Are you injured?” I demanded again, my voice still too harsh. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, but it was impossible. I wanted to pat my hands all over her soft body, take stock of every inch of her and make sure she was truly alright.
When she didn’t immediately answer, I took another deep breath. I needed to get myself under control.
Before I could get a word out, a blonde and a redhead flanked either side of her. I hadn’t realized I was still holding onto Willow until my sister gave me a weird look, one I couldn’t decipher. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t let go of her.
Truthfully, I didn’t want to.
“You okay?” Trin asked, her eyes wide. Willow nodded but still wouldn’t look at me. Her gaze lifted to Brynne’s and that’s where it stayed. I wanted her to look at me—I wanted her to talk to me.
It stung knowing she wanted Brynne over me—that she trusted Brynne to make her better. I could do it… if she just fucking looked at me.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. “Did everyone see?” I glanced around, my brows pressed together. That was what she was worried about? People seeing her?
I opened my mouth to answer, but again, I was beaten to it. “Who cares if they did?” Brynne scoffed. “Like they haven’t fallen off a barstool before.”
Even in the dim lighting, I could see the pink on Willow’s cheeks. “No one saw,” I assured her.
Look at me.
The words, the plea , repeated in my mind on a loop, but she didn’t. She just flicked her eyes between my sister and her best friend.
“Come on.” Brynne looped her arm through Willow’s, but my hand remained wrapped around her elbow. I didn’t know why it was impossible for me to let go—all I had to do was unfurl my fingers and let go . But I couldn’t.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” I asked softly. She still refused to look at me, refused to even acknowledge my existence.
“She’s fine, Ro,” Trin murmured. She patted my back, and I tensed. I needed to relax, but it was hard. Impossible. Roughly, I cleared my throat and reluctantly let go of Willow, my fingers twitching.
Before I could say anything else, do anything else, Brynne was leading Willow through the crowd to the bathrooms.
I was helpless to do anything but watch as she disappeared. A long breath left me as I sank onto my stool and ran my fingers through my hair, tugging lightly on the strands. I tapped my free hand on the tabletop, hoping my unwanted ritual would soothe me. Trinity hesitated, her hands twisting together in front of her. I flicked my gaze her direction, and she gave me a tight-lipped smile.
“You good?” she softly asked. The muscle in my jaw feathered as I nodded.
“Yeah. I’m good.” Her mouth opened, then closed. But she said nothing else. She rested her hand on my forearm, and my muscle twitched. Her gaze lingered on mine for just a second longer before she headed to meet the girls in the bathroom.
Air filled my lungs until they burned, until they threatened to pop. She was fine—everyone was fine. No one was hurt. No one was dying.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, seeing images of that night flash before me like the worst kind of nightmare. That was the night that changed the trajectory of my life—it changed how I interacted with people, it changed how my mind worked when someone was injured.
It changed everything.
And every part of my soul was screaming at me to bust down the bathroom door and make sure Willow was alright. Because if she wasn’t…
I took another deep breath.
I couldn’t think like that. I had to get through this.
My fingertips hurt from the incessant tapping on the wood table. Once, twice, seven times. Deep breath. Then more tapping.
Over and over, all the while, my mind spiraled into a darker, more chaotic place. It kept telling me that Willow was going to die. If I didn’t do something, if I didn’t save her, if I didn’t check on her, she would die.
And it was ridiculous—I knew it wasn’t logical, but that was my truth.
If I didn’t save her, she was dead.
I pushed off the stool and rested a hand on my hip, the other moving to my mouth. Luckily, I was tall enough that I could see over everyone’s heads and focus solely on the door. I waited and waited. My middle finger tapped against my cheek as I held my breath.
They were taking a long time.
Pulling out my phone, I brought up my thread with Trin and sent a quick text.
ME:
Is Willow okay?
No reply.
ME:
It’s been ten minutes. Tell me she’s okay.
Again. Nothing.
I tried to stop myself from moving, tried to make myself stay put. But the longer they were gone, the longer she was out of my sight, the more panic flowed through my veins.
“Fuck it,” I muttered under my breath. I shoved through the crowd, ignoring Tommy as he talked into the mic. Everything, everyone, was secondary as I stopped outside the bathroom door. I stared the stick figure in a dress painted on the outside, and I swore it was mocking me.
The skin on my lip ripped open as I gnawed on it, unsure of what to do. I couldn’t barge in, but I couldn’t stand here and wait anymore.
Images of Trinity bleeding out flashed through my mind again, and suddenly, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about freaking Willow out. I didn’t care about what anyone was going to say.
All I could focus on was the way panic wrapped around my chest and squeezed like a python, the way it told me Willow was on the other side of the door dying, and if I didn’t get to her now, it would be too late. I’d lose her forever.
The rough wood dug into my palm as I shoved the door open and stormed inside. Floral soap and sweet perfume hit my senses, bringing me out of the past and cementing me firmly in the present. Willow let out a soft scream, Trinity squeaked, and Brynne glared.
“What are you doing in here?” Brynne demanded, folding her arms over her chest. I ignored her as I leveled a look at Willow.
This was the first time she’d looked at me since falling—the first time I’d allowed myself to see her in a new light—and it took my breath away. She took my breath away.
She wasn’t just my neighbor anymore. She was something else.
“Everyone out,” I said, never letting my gaze leave hers. Brynne huffed out a sarcastic laugh, and finally, she drew my attention.
“Absolutely not?—”
“ Out .”
“, you need to take a breath,” Trinity said softly. “Ground yourself.”
“It’s alright,” Willow muttered.
Silence fell over the room as Brynne and I glared at each other, each of us challenging the other. I knew I couldn’t do much—I was in the wrong. I knew that. But I had to prove to myself that Willow was truly alright.
“I’ll be fine.” Willow gave my sister and her best friend a tight, reassuring smile, and Brynne finally relented. Barely.
“We’ll be right outside,” she said, pointing at the door. “Holler if you need me.”
I rolled my eyes. What the fuck did she think I was going to do?
They knew I wasn’t dangerous, but they also knew I could be intense, especially when it came to safety. They were probably worried I was scaring Willow.
The girls headed out, and when the door clicked shut behind them, I turned fully toward Willow. She twisted her hands together nervously, her eyes on the floor. I took a step forward and gently rested my finger under her chin, urging her to look at me.
The contact settled something inside me. Usually, it did the opposite—but she was different.
“I need the truth,” I murmured. “Are you really okay? You’re not hurt? You don’t need the hospital or?—”
“I fell off a stool, .” She laughed breathlessly, finally her eyes lifting to meet mine. “I’m not dying.”
My throat constricted at the words. Her brows pinched together as she searched my face, before she reached up, wrapping her hand around mine. It was so much smaller, so much colder than mine. How had I never noticed our height difference before? How fragile she was before? She was a curvy, fragile, pretty little thing, and I had to do better. I had to be better at protecting her. Even from just falling off a stool.
“Are you okay?” Her words were said softly, almost a whisper, but I heard them clearly.
“I’m sorry—I just?—”
I swallowed hard, dragging a shaky hand through my hair. How did I even explain this? That sometimes my brain latched onto a single thought like a tick burrowing under the skin, and no matter how much I knew it wasn’t logical, it felt real.
“I get it.” She sighed, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I acted weird, and you’re the sheriff. It’s your job to make sure people are alright.”
Another laugh from her.
Another deep breath from me.
The reminder that I was nothing to her but the sheriff was like a bucket of ice water, but it was needed. It was a slippery slope, letting myself believe we were something more than just a fake couple.
This was my out, and I had to take it.
“You’re right,” I said, tugging my hand free from her grasp. “I can’t let anyone in my town get hurt.”
It was my turn to let out a tight, forced laugh. Her shoulders fell, her face with them, but I couldn’t say anything else. I couldn’t let her know the truth of how my mind worked.
This was for the best. Keeping a wall between us was for the best.
I didn’t know what I’d been thinking earlier, flirting with her, touching her. Pretending to date her was one thing, trying to force feelings where there was none was something else entirely.
And she was right—I would’ve reacted like this with anyone. I’d done it a million times at work when Trinity hurt herself rollerblading around the halls. It wasn’t Willow making me overreact, it was my mind.
The door creaked open, and I took another step away from her. “Round two is about to start,” Trin said, flicking her eyes between us. They narrowed when they landed on Willow, then slowly turned back toward me. “All good?”
“Yep.” Willow’s shoulders rolled back, and a bright smile filled her face. It was like she shut off everything she’d just been feeling, everything she’d been thinking, and plastered a smile over her pain like an emotional band aid. How often did she do that? “Let’s go win.”
“Give me your keys,” I demanded, holding my hand out. “Trinity. You’re drunk. Give them to me.” She rolled her eyes, her head flopping to one side as she looked up at me.
“I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.” She jammed her finger into the center of my chest, her words slurring together in one long, incoherent sentence. Brynne and Willow were hanging on each other as they stumbled forward, trying to keep upright. Giggles erupted from them with every step toward my truck, and I took a deep breath.
It was like wrangling toddlers.
“I’m going to throw you over my shoulder if you don’t?—”
“ I’m going to throw you over my shoulder —do you hear yourself? Caveman.” Trinity huffed out a laugh, falling into me. I rolled my eyes, dragging her across the parking lot.
My headlights flooded the dark lot as I unlocked the truck. Brynne didn’t wait for me, she just threw the back door open and jumped inside. Willow stared at her, then turned her gaze toward me.
“Wait for me to help you, shortcake. You might fall and—” She ignored me as she reached up, gripping a handle overhead, and bracing her foot on the side of the truck.
I held my breath, anticipating her falling and breaking a bone. But she managed to get inside without injury, and relief flooded my chest. Her door slammed shut as I opened the passenger one, then easily lifted Trinity into the seat. I’d never seen her so drunk before.
“Thanks, big bro.” She tapped my cheek with her palm, her eyes drifting shut. My heart squeezed as I stared at her.
She was safe—they all were.
My gaze lifted to Willow’s in the backseat, finding her already staring at me. There was something there, something I couldn’t figure out. Not longing, but…was she sad?
Then she sniffed hard and roughly wiped at her cheek. Yep, she was sad. But why?
“Onward, peasant!” Trinity cried, throwing her arm out. The back of her hand whacked my face, and I groaned. Grumbling under my breath, I hurried around the truck, started it up, and headed toward my mom’s place.
“Can you play some music or something? It’s quieter than a funeral in here,” Brynne slurred, tapping the back of my chair.
“Oh, play Bob Dylan!” Willow chirped excitedly. A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth when the girls turned to look at her.
“Bob Dylan?” Trinity repeated. “Who’s that?”
“You know, the dad from Full House ,” Brynne said, waving dismissively.
“That’s Bob Saget,” I said.
“Wait, no, he’s the game show guy, right?”
“Bob Barker,” I muttered, shaking my head. How did they not know who Bob Dylan was?
“No, that’s the drummer,” Trinity mumbled, tapping her chin.
“Travis Barker.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed the AUX cord and handed it to Willow, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. She smiled happily as she plugged her phone in, the screen illuminating her face.
“Isn’t he married to a Kardashian?” Brynne asked, and Willow nodded.
“Khloe, I think?” Trinity said.
“No, it’s Kourtney,” Willow corrected.
“I think my brain is melting,” I grumbled. “I feel it coming out of my ears.”
“ This is Bob Dylan. You’re about to learn so much.” Willow smiled as she leaned back, a small sigh leaving her. I’d never seen her look so content, so happy and at peace, but a trace of sadness still clung to the edges. I knew I needed to look at the road, but she made it impossible to do that when she demanded all my attention.
We sat in silence for a few moments, just listening to the music. I’d never been a Dylan fan before, but being forced to listen to his music every night since Willow had moved in, I’d come to enjoy it.
The song finished, and Willow leaned forward, her fingers wrapping around the black leather. “So, what did you think?” she asked, flicking her gaze between my sister and Brynne.
“It was…” Brynne gave her a weak smile.
“Not my vibe, personally,” Trinity said, pressing her hand to the center of her chest. “But it’s yours, and I love that for you.”
“Yeah, it’s very you ,” Brynne agreed, nodding. “Not in a bad way, but I’d rather listen to…”
“Literally anything else.” Trinity laughed.
I pulled up outside the house and put the truck in park. Turning, I met Willow’s gaze, and not for the first time tonight, I wondered why she looked so sad.
“I love Bob Dylan,” I blurted. All eyes turned my way, but Willow perked up, some of that sadness slipping slightly away. The smile she gave me was genuine, and it was like a much-needed breath of fresh air.
Silence filled the truck, then Trinity and Brynne busted into a fit of laughter. “Sure you do, big bro.” Trin tapped my shoulder before reaching for her door handle. “Come on, B. Let’s go inside.”
Reaching across the center console, I gripped her arm. She rolled her eyes toward me, annoyance stamped on her face. “Be quiet in there,” I said sternly. “Mom’s probably asleep. Don’t wake her up.”
“We’ll be as quiet as mouses,” she slurred before throwing the door open and stumbling out.
“Mice. Quiet as mice,” I muttered to myself, watching as the girls staggered up the walkway to the house. Their laughter could be heard through my truck windows, so I knew Mom would be up and getting onto them in no time.
Which was their problem. Not mine.
A smile tugged at my lips as Trin turned and waved at me before slipping inside, barely catching herself before she slammed the door shut. With a deep breath, I turned to look at Willow in the backseat. She was already looking at me, that same unreadable expression on her face.
“Do you wanna get in the front?” I asked gently, and she glanced at the seat, then back at me.
“Can I?” She pointed at it, and I smiled again. She was the opposite of Trin when she was drunk. Trin was loud—she was always loud—but Willow was quiet. Sweet. Almost shy.
“Of course.” I tapped the seat invitingly.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but her gripping both front seats and hiking her leg over the center console was not it. She twisted and shifted, her ass slamming into my face before she sank into the chair and straightened her skirt.
“Thanks.” She grinned before sliding her seatbelt over her chest.
Honestly, I was too damn stunned to do anything other than stare at her. Blink. Breathe. Stare. That was it.
Roughly, I cleared my throat and turned my gaze forward. I shifted the car into drive, and we silently drove through the quiet streets of Cedar Ridge.
It wasn’t an awkward silence, even after her ass was in my face, but it was comfortable. Companionable. Like it had been at the lighthouse earlier.
I tapped my fingers against the gearshift. I couldn’t believe we agreed to date just hours ago. It felt like that happened days ago, weeks ago. But it hadn’t. This was our first night as a fake couple.
My gaze slid toward her, and I watched from the corner of my eye as she stared out the window, her chin propped on her palm. She tracked the moving scenery, a million thoughts whirling behind those shadowed green eyes.
I would’ve paid anything to know what she was thinking.
All too soon, we pulled up in front of the duplex. It was odd seeing her place quiet and dark, her car not parked in the driveway. We stayed in the truck for another moment, just staring at our shared house.
What was I supposed to do now? Talk to her? But what did I say? No matter how hard I tried or how many words floated through my mind, nothing felt right.
Before I could even attempt a conversation, she reached for the handle, and I grabbed her hand. She jolted at my touch, but didn’t pull away.
“I’ll help you down,” I said softly. “I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.” Again . But I didn’t think that needed to be said.
She rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath but stayed put. My lips twitched, and a part of me loved that she was such a brat. Maybe that meant she was already comfortable with me.
I strode around the truck and pulled her door open. Our eyes met in the darkness, my breath hitching as she seared me to my core. Everything fell away, and all that was left was her. In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just her and me. Me and her. Us.
Her hand slid into mine, and I helped her from her seat, making sure her feet were settled firmly on the ground before letting her go. I locked up, hoping she thought I was just being annoying by locking the doors seven times and not that I had a compulsion to do so.
She stumbled as we walked toward the porch, nearly tripping and falling. I wrapped my arm around her waist, anchoring her to my side. I liked it—touching her. Keeping her close.
I liked it a lot more than I should.
“Is this okay?” I asked, glancing down at her.
She relaxed into me, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “Yes,” she muttered, and I felt my heart soar.
I helped her the rest of the way, all but carrying her up the rickety steps to her door. It took all I had not to demand she let me sweep the place to make sure she was safe, but that wasn’t first date behavior.
Fake first date behavior.
She peered up at me, and my breath caught in my throat. Was I supposed to kiss her? Shake her hand? Give her a pat on the back?
“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “It was really fun.” She pulled away from me, and her presence was immediately missed.
“Thanks for going.” I rubbed the back of my neck. My fingers tapped against the warm skin there, my hair tickling me.
“I’ll, um, see you around,” she murmured, and I dipped my head in a nod.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat as I stepped away from her, needing the distance but not wanting it. “See you around.”
She gave me the softest, sweetest smile before slipping inside and clicking her door shut behind her. I waited to hear it lock, then I made my way to my half of the house. After my ritual, I sank into my chair and ran my hand through my hair, sighing.
What a fucking night.