Ronan
ronan
MOM:
*1 Image*
Look how cute you two are!!
I n the photo, Willow’s head rested on my shoulder, and my arm stretched out across the back of her chair as I leaned toward her. We were smiling, big and broad and happy .
We looked happy.
I shifted the screen for Willow to see, and she grinned, though it didn’t meet her eyes. “I forgot we took that,” she murmured. “You look so good.”
“Me?” I snorted, staring at the photo. “ You look incredible. Everyone’s lucky we weren’t late—that outfit you wore drove me insane.”
She rolled her eyes, a laugh slipping out, but it was laced with tension. Sunlight streamed in through the window, and the AC was on full blast, fighting the heat. A group of people loaded their suitcases into the trunk of the car in front of us, their laughter carrying to me through the windshield.
“It’ll be alright, sweetheart.” I slid my hand across the smooth leather of the bench seat and wrapped it around hers. It was clammy and shaky. Seeing her so nervous made my heart squeeze. “I’m right here. I’ll take care of you.”
“Thanks, Ro,” she whispered.
Her family should be out of the airport any minute now, and Willow was growing more and more anxious. She hadn’t said a word this morning as she got ready. She didn’t play music, or hum a little tune, or check on her plants. She didn’t do anything but silently sit on the floor in front of my floor-length mirror and put her makeup on, a sad, almost scared expression on her face.
No, not scared. Not sad. Defeated. She’d looked defeated , worn out. And they weren’t even here yet.
I set the photo to my screensaver before slipping my phone into my pocket. My fingers drummed against the steering wheel as I stared at the sliding glass doors. Willow’s knee bounced wildly, and she kept nibbling on her bottom lip, her eyes flitting from the door to the line of people waiting for their rides near us.
What could I say to make her feel better? What could I do to fix this? It felt out of my control, like she was free-falling, and I was helpless to do anything but watch. All I could do was hold her hand and hopefully help her land safely.
But that didn’t feel like enough . She did so much for me, and I couldn’t protect her from feeling like this, from going through this. I wanted to take her out of this situation, away from this stress, protect her from the people causing her to feel like this.
“There they are,” she said, her voice shaky. Her chest rose as she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can do this. It’ll be okay.”
I scanned the crowd of people, my heart slamming against my chest. “Remember. I’m on your side, baby,” I murmured. “I’m going to be right here the whole time.”
“I know.” Another deep breath. “I can do this. It’s only a few days.”
My gaze shifted back to her, finding her face pale and her eyes wide. She sounded like she was about to hyperventilate, and I rested my hand on the back of her neck. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.”
She forced air into her lungs as she reached for the door. I opened my mouth to tell her to take all the time she needed to compose herself, to catch her breath, but then, right before my eyes, her shoulders rolled back, and a smile filled her face.
It was fake, but you’d never know unless you knew her, and something told me that despite these people being her family they didn’t know her, and they wouldn’t care that her smile was fake.
She slipped from the truck, and I followed her lead. I rounded the truck, watching as she hesitantly approached a small group of people.
Her father was smaller than I thought he’d be. The way she talked about him, the fear and anxiety surrounding him, I was picturing someone huge. But he was half a foot shorter than me, and at least fifty pounds lighter. His light brown hair was combed neatly away from his clean-shaven face, and his button-down shirt and jeans were impeccable, not a wrinkle in sight.
Willow hugged him, and a tall, thin woman, almost taller than him, stood at his side, her hair bleach blonde and fried at the ends. She wore jeans that hit a few inches above her ankle with sandals and a blouse tucked into her pants.
Beside her was a young woman with dirty blonde hair gathered into a high ponytail. Her skin was tanned, and her clothes nearly as perfect as Willow’s fathers. She stared right at me, a sly grin curving her lips.
“I’m Vanessa,” she said, holding her hand out. Her silver jewelry jingled as she moved, and I stared at it before quickly taking it.
“. Willow’s boyfriend.”
Vanessa’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly as she slid her palm against mine. Her fingers felt more like claws as they wrapped around my hand, squeezing gently.
“Ro,” Willow called, and my gaze snapped to her as I dropped her stepsister’s hand. I had to resist the urge to wipe my palm down the front of my jeans. “This is my dad, Bill.” She turned and rested her hand on her stepmother’s shoulder. “And my stepmom, Lydia.”
With the way she was acting, no one would’ve ever known she’d been spiraling in the truck not even five minutes ago.
“,” I said, gripping her father’s hand. His hold on me tightened, as if he were trying to hurt me, and I nearly rolled my eyes.
He was one of those men. The type who thought a firm, near-painful handshake somehow asserted dominance or showed that he was more manly, more masculine. I tugged my hand away, finally giving in and smoothing it down my jeans. All eyes were on me, but I didn’t care—all I cared about was Willow, her comfort, her safety. My gaze stayed on hers, gauging. Reading. Trying to figure out if she wanted me to tell everyone to get back on the plane and fly home.
“So, you’re the famous Rowan,” he said, his voice much lower and gruffer than I expected.
“ ,” Willow muttered.
“Guess so.” I smiled tightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”
He chuckled. “All good things, I hope.”
My eyes slashed to him, my smile falling. It was likely just a joke…or maybe he was fully aware of how much of an asshole he was to his daughter.
“Can we please go to the hotel?” Lydia whined. “I need to take a shower and get the plane air off me.” She turned toward Willow. “It was disgusting . The air was dry, and there were people in coach—we flew first, of course—who were coughing. I feel myself already getting sick.” She fanned herself as she looked around. “Where is the town car?”
“There is no town car,” Willow said softly. Meekly. I clenched my jaw at the sound. “We’re here to pick you up.”
“Oh.” Lydia let out a high-pitched laugh. “How…nice. In your car? Or have you finally bought a new one?”
“I’ve been telling her for years she needs a new car. That little rust-bucket is awful,” Bill said conspiratorially, shaking his head. “Can’t believe you let her drive around in that.” He laughed as he clapped me on the back, but I didn’t smile.
“Her car is safe,” I said. “I’ve checked it.”
“Oh,” he laughed again, the sound sarcastic, and looked at the three women. “He’s checked it.”
I felt words bubbling to the surface, but I swallowed them down. This was Willow’s father. I couldn’t lose my shit within the first ten minutes of meeting him.
“ would never let me drive it if it was unsafe,” Willow said. “He’s very protective.”
Her father turned his attention to me again, scrutinizing me from head to toe. I’d dealt with men like him my entire life—he couldn’t and wouldn’t make me feel small. I stood at my full height and stared right back.
Finally, Lydia sighed. “The hotel?”
“Right,” Willow said, and waved her hand toward my truck. “We’re in Ro’s truck today, not my rust-bucket. Everyone can breathe easier.” She let out a tight laugh, one that I didn’t mimic, and moved to my side. I laced our fingers together and gently squeezed.
I unlocked the truck, trying not to lock and unlock it. Instead, I tapped my finger against the back of her hand as a deep breath filled my lungs.
“Do you need help loading your bags?” I asked, and Vanessa shoved her suitcase at me.
“That would be amazing. Put those big muscles to use.” Lydia and Vanessa laughed, and I felt Willow stiffen at my side. I pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before I let go, and grabbed the suitcases, tossing them in the bed of the truck.
“The girls can get in the back,” Bill announced. “Men in the front.”
“Will there be enough room?” Vanessa chirped, sending a glare toward Willow. “I don’t think the three of us will fit. Maybe Willow can ride in the very back?”
My feet dug into the concrete as I stared at her stepsister. There was no way I’d just heard that correctly. But then she grinned, and I watched my precious girl close in on herself, and I nearly blacked out.
“You three can get in the back,” I snapped, my voice low. “Willow is up front with me. Get in the truck, shortcake.” I yanked the door open, and turned back toward her, ignoring the three sets of shocked eyes boring into me.
I didn’t care about them. I cared about her .
My hand was steady as I held it out for her. She glanced at her family, tension rising between the five of us. But I ignored it. I let everything fall away and focused solely on her.
“I get it,” Bill laughed, though it was tight. “You want to be a big man and show off for your girl.”
I didn’t say anything, because there was nothing to say. He wanted a reaction, he wanted engagement, and I wouldn’t give it to him.
“I’ll ride up front with you if she doesn’t want to,” Vanessa piped in, but again, I ignored her. My eyes stayed on Willow. On her face, her eyes, her body.
She slipped her lip between her teeth and winced as she peeled dry skin off. Crimson stained her lip, and I clenched my jaw.
“Come on, baby,” I said softly. She blinked, and it was like she was coming out of a spell. When her hand rested against mine, I swore she relaxed. I tugged her to me, planting a kiss to the top of her head as I helped her into the truck. Her hands were shaking too much to do her seatbelt, so I batted them away and did it for her. “I’ve got you .” I whispered the words to her, low enough for only her to hear.
She smiled, and it was the first real one I’d seen from her today. I cupped her cheek, stroking it gently before I stepped away.
“The doors are unlocked,” I said as I rounded the front of the truck and slipped into my seat.
Her family piled into the back, Lydia and Vanessa complaining about literally everything. It was too cramped. It was too hot. It smelled weird. They couldn’t find the seatbelts. They were tired from the flight.
On and on it went, the entire thirty-minute drive to their hotel. The noise grated against me like nails on a chalkboard, but I kept my focus straight ahead. I couldn’t lose it—not here, not now.
The entire time, I felt Bill’s eyes stabbing into the back of my head, like he was silently sizing me up, trying to find the crack in my armor. But he wouldn’t find anything. Not when it came to his daughter.
Willow stared out the window, her expression blank, as if she’d pulled herself away from the moment entirely. She didn’t speak, didn’t look back, just gripped my hand like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.
And maybe it was.
My thumb brushed over her knuckles, grounding myself as much as her. Every quiet sigh, every tense breath, every flicker of pain in her eyes chipped away at my composure. I’d promised to protect her, to keep her safe, but right now, sitting in that truck, I felt helpless.
I hated how small they made her feel. How much they brushed her aside, pretended like she was nothing but their verbal punching bag. They thought she was weak because she didn’t fight back, because she tried to keep the peace. But they didn’t see what I saw.
They didn’t see her silent strength or the courage it took for her to stand tall in front of people who had spent their lives tearing her down. They didn’t see her resilience, her heart, the fire she carried even when it wavered under their gaze.
But I did.
I saw her.
I tightened my grip on her hand, silently vow that I wouldn’t let them crush her, not while I was around.
This weekend wouldn’t be easy. It would test every ounce of patience I had, and then some. But I’d be damned if I let her walk through this alone.
I glanced at her, catching the faintest quiver in her chin before she pressed her lips together and stared out the window again. My heart clenched.
Fuck, it was going to be a long weekend.
But for her?
For her, I’d do anything—even deal with her family.
*You added Willow to the Caldwell Fam Chat*
TRIN:
How’s the fam-bam?!
THEO:
Blink twice if you’re in danger.
TRIN:
*blink blink*
I’m in danger because Theo smells so freaking bad.
brYNNE:
AMEN!
THEO:
I do not…
brYNNE:
I walked into your poor mother’s house and found your sister holding her breath because you stunk up the whole place with your workout.
TRIN:
Yeah, big big bro. Don’t you know that working out is forbidden in these parts?
I’m basically the sheriff. I know the laws.
ME:
I’m muting you now.
THEO:
Wait! How’s it going?
ME:
It’s not great.
We’re at dinner.
TRIN:
Give Willow an extra big smooch from me!!
And an extra big glass of alcohol!!!
I slid my phone back into my pocket and turned my attention to Willow. She smoothed her hands over her hair. It was pin-straight, instead of wavy like usual. She looked gorgeous, but her hair, her makeup, even her dress was different. It was like she’d put on layer after layer of armor, like she was removing herself so far from the person she truly was to protect herself.
Chatter and light seeped out the open doors of the Bayside Bistro, the scent of cooked food hanging thick and warm in the air. We stared out at the street, waiting for Willow’s family to show up.
Apparently, they didn’t like my truck, so they rented a car and were meeting us here. After we dropped them off, Willow finally let herself fracture. She didn’t break , but she was close.
A tear dripped from her eye, but she’d quickly wiped it away like it never existed. I wanted to promise her that she wouldn’t feel like that again. But I couldn’t make that promise, because they were going to be here for two more days, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to ease her pain.
The streetlight reflected in her eyes, and I stepped closer. “We can still go home,” I murmured. “Tell them I was sick, and we couldn’t come.” She peered up at me, giving me a wobbly smile.
“It’ll be alright.” She sighed, sliding her fingers through mine. “It’s just a couple hours.”
She turned back to the street, and a breeze brushed her hair away from her face. I wanted to kiss her, hold her, give her the world on a silver platter. But I couldn’t find the words.
“You know,” she whispered, her voice thick. “I never thought we’d be here.”
“What do you mean?” I squeezed her hand gently.
“When I told that lie—” She turned toward me again, her gaze searching mine. “When you agreed to do this—to pretend to be my boyfriend this weekend—I never thought we’d be here . Together. I hoped it would somehow become real, but I never let myself truly believe it could happen.”
I smiled softly, reaching up to cup her face. “I never thought it would turn out like this either,” I admitted.
“You’re faking ?” someone said from behind Willow. Her eyes went wide, only the whites of them showing in the night, and whirled around. I lifted my gaze behind her, finding Vanessa only a few feet from us. “I should’ve known.”
Her head fell back as she cackled. Slowly, she strolled forward, her thin hips swaying, the silky fabric of her skirt shifting with every step.
“No—” Willow shook her head, her hair swaying. “We’re not faking anything.”
“We’re really together,” I said, stepping closer to Willow.
“You just said he agreed to be your boyfriend for the weekend,” Vanessa said, still chuckling. “Oh my god, I didn’t realize you could get even more pathetic.”
“Look, it’s not?—”
“Dad is going to lose his mind when I tell him,” she continued, ignoring me.
“Vanessa, please,” Willow rasped. “ Please don’t tell dad.”
Vanessa’s lips curved into a deep, conniving grin. “What will you do for me?” she asked, and my stomach dropped.
I stepped closer to Willow, resting my hand on her lower back. She was trembling, and she shrank into my side.
“I—what do you want?” Willow’s voice was breathy and nearly inaudible, small and shaky.
I hated it.
“No,” I snapped, slicing my hand through the air. “Fuck that. Tell him whatever you want, you’re not going to blackmail her.”
“Ro, please,” Willow whispered. “He can’t know about this.” She stared at me, silver lining her eyes. I tapped my fingers against her lower back, mentally counting to seven.
“Fine.” I let out a harsh breath through my nose. “Fine. What do you want?” I turned a seething glare to Vanessa. That same infuriating grin was on her face, and I felt my blood pressure spike at the sight of it.
“Come to my room every night this weekend,” she said. “I can fuck you better than she can.”
Willow’s breath hitched, but she didn’t immediately shut the idea down. I stared at her, expecting her to lose it, but she just dropped her gaze to the sidewalk and shrank even further in on herself. I felt her pull away, like she was expecting me to fucking agree.
“Absolutely not,” I gritted out. “I’d rather stick my dick in a fucking pencil sharpener than ever go near you.”
Finally, that smile fell from Vanessa’s face. “Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “Then I’ll tell Dad.”
“Tell him!” I roughly shook my head. “I’m not fucking you, Vanessa. Do you hear yourself? Are you insane?”
What was wrong with her? Who suggested that? Who even thought that?
“Aren’t you married?” I asked, my voice rising.
“We have an agreement.” She waved dismissively. “As long as I make more money than him, he doesn’t care what, or who , I do.”
I blinked at her. She was a viper—a monster. She was awful.
“Anyway,” she sighed. “Last chance. Come to my room tonight?—”
“He said no,” Willow finally said, her voice quiet but full of anger. “There’s a town full of men, go fuck one of them.” She waved her hand at the street.
Vanessa’s jaw tensed. “Fine. I’ll tell Dad at dinner, then.”
“He won’t believe you,” Willow said. Vanessa laughed again, sounding every bit the evil stepsister that she was.
“Of course he will.” She dragged her gaze over Willow. “He knows how pathetic your life is, and he knows I’d never lie to him. You’ve done nothing but disappoint him your entire life—have you ever wondered why he prefers me so much? It’s because I make him proud. It’s because I give him something he can brag to his friends about. And you? What have you done?”
I opened my mouth, ready to rip into her, but Willow rested her hand on my forearm, stopping me. Bill and Lydia strolled down the sidewalk toward us.
“We’re leaving,” I said, but Willow shook her head, sadness and defeat rippling off her in thick waves.
“Let’s just get this over with.”