Willow
willow
“ W hat do you think we should name him?” I asked, smoothing my hand over the kitten’s orange fur. He was much more stable today—less shaky, clean, but just as mischievous. He stumbled from my lap onto the bench seat and sauntered toward Ronan.
“Hmm.” Ronan lifted the kitten into his lap, laughing as he stepped across his thighs toward the buttons on his door. He stuck a hesitant paw out, tapping the buttons just as he had when I’d driven him the other day. “Maybe Button?”
I snorted as I reached across, snatching the kitten up and bringing him back to my lap. “How about Trouble?”
Maggie told us she thought he was only about eight weeks old. Apart from being dehydrated, underfed, and having a scrape on his back leg, he was healthy. We were told to bring him in next week for his shots and a regular checkup to make sure he was still doing alright.
I hadn’t realized I’d been so anxious about him, but when Maggie told us he was healthy, and that we could bring him home, a relieved breath left me. Ronan wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me to his side as he held the kitten in his other hand.
“What about Lighthouse?” he suggested, and I hummed.
“It’s a mouthful,” I muttered, and he grinned. “Dirty mind.” I playfully tapped his shoulder as I laughed. The cat reached for my arm with his paws, wanting to play with the jingly bracelets on my wrist.
“Alright, not Lighthouse. What about…”
“Sailor?” I murmured. I didn’t know where that name came from, but it felt right.
Ronan was silent for a moment. “Sailor,” he repeated, as if he were letting the syllables roll around on his tongue. Just hearing the name fall from his lips for the first time made my heart flutter. “ Sailor . I love it.”
I grinned as I picked the kitten up. He waved his paws around in the air for a moment before he let out a soft meow . “Hi, little Sailor,” I cooed, running my finger over his nose and tiny head.
The rest of the drive was spent trying to keep Sailor from falling on the floorboard, and from playing with the buttons on the door. All too soon, we pulled up in front of the house. I held my breath, almost expecting to find my dad, Lydia, and Vanessa out front, but thankfully, they weren’t there.
Ronan let out a long breath, and I glanced at him. “Did you think they were gonna be here too?” I asked, and he cracked a small smile.
“Yeah. But thank fuck they’re not.” He leaned across the seat and pressed a kiss to my temple before kissing Sailor. “Ready to see your new home, little guy?” Ronan’s hand swallowed the kitten’s tiny body as he lifted him from my arms. He slipped from the truck, but I stayed sitting for another moment, just needing to breathe.
Rummaging in my purse, I pulled my phone out. The screen was blank, just as it had been all day. I hadn’t heard from anyone. It almost felt like they were punishing me for last night. Maybe I should call Dad and try to smooth things over? But just the thought of doing that made bile rise in my throat.
The door suddenly opened, and I blinked back the tears I hadn’t realized gathered on my lashes. I gave Ronan a wobbly smile as he stared at me. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Sailor looked comically small against his broad frame, and I almost laughed, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to. Ronan adjusted his grip on the kitten, keeping him from falling over the edge of his hand.
“Yeah,” I breathed, shoving my phone back in my purse. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he stepped aside, watching as I slid from the truck. I shut the door with more force than was really necessary, like it would somehow shake this feeling clinging to me. Not quite guilt, not quite unease. It was a bastardized mix of the two, and I hated it. Hated feeling weak and small, just like I always did around them.
I wanted to change. I wanted to be stronger. Did everyone feel like this when they put themselves first? When they decided they were tired of backhanded and gaslighting comments?
Behind me, Ronan locked the truck seven times, his footsteps steady and unwavering. I climbed the stairs and stepped to the side, watching as he slid the key into the lock. He paused before he opened the door. His gaze shifted to mine.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” he said softly. “You don’t have to talk to any of them ever again. Not if you don’t want to.”
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “It’s not that easy,” I muttered. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand. Sailor squirmed in his palm, but Ronan readjusted his grip, holding him tighter to his chest.
“It can be,” he whispered. “I’m here. I can be the buffer. I can do— something . I’ll do anything, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
Tears clogged my throat. “I don’t know what I want,” I rasped, my voice thick.
His eyes flicked between mine for another moment. “When you do know, just tell me and I’ll take care of everything.” He kissed my forehead, and I leaned into his touch. “Let’s get this guy inside, huh?”
I smiled as I nodded, watching as he shoved the door open. He set Sailor on the ground, and he took off, tiny paws tapping against the hardwood floor. He skidded to a stop by the couch, his tail wagging as he took it all in.
“Here’s your kitty tree,” I said, moving toward it. Ronan did his usual ritual, checking the locks, microwave, and stove. “Come here, Sailor. Your—Ronan built it for you.”
I didn’t know if Ronan wanted to be a cat daddy or not. Just because I wanted Sailor didn’t mean Ronan did. Even if he had built the tree and bought all this stuff for him, it didn’t mean he wanted a cat in his house all the time.
I sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and watched as Sailor stumbled around the tiny living room. Ronan made his way from the kitchen to us and sank into his chair. He rested his forearms on his knees as he leaned forward, a small smile on his face.
“You think he likes it here?” he asked, and I laughed softly.
“He’s trying to scale your couch like a rock climber,” I muttered. He huffed out a laugh, rubbing his palms together as he watched Sailor climb a few inches, then fall back to the floor. “I think he loves it here.”
I do , I almost said, but I held myself back.
Knowing I needed to go back home soon lingered in the back of my mind. I was sure Ronan wanted his own space again, that he was probably tired of company filling his house. I’d only been here a week and had already made a mess of things.
His house had been spotless, almost clinical with how uncluttered it was. And then Tornado entered the picture, and there were a million blankets on the sofa, clothes strewn around the guest room floor, makeup and hair products littering the countertop in the guest bathroom. I was a mess—I made a mess of everything. Now with Sailor, he probably wanted his peace and quiet back but was too nice to tell me to leave.
I took a shuddering breath, not wanting to even bring this up to him, but I knew it was time. When I looked at him, he was already staring at me.
“What is it?” he whispered, his voice almost guarded like he was anticipating the worst. My lips wobbled as I pressed them together.
“I can go back home,” I rasped. “Maybe tomorrow? Or…or the next day?”
He just stared at me. Time stretched, seconds ticking slowly by. Sailor continued exploring the house, but all I could do was focus on Ronan’s intense gaze.
“Is that what you want?” he finally asked, his voice low.
“Isn’t it what you want?”
“Don’t turn it around on me.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. “What do you want, ? Do you want to go back home?”
I chewed on my bottom lip. Did I tell him the truth? What if he didn’t feel the same way? I didn’t want him to feel like I was forcing him into this. But with the way he was staring at me, almost like he was willing me to say no , I took a chance.
A deep breath filled my lungs, and I shifted onto my knees, crawling toward him. His throat bobbed as he watched me slide my hands onto his knee.
“I don’t want to leave,” I admitted. “I will if you want me to, though. But?—”
“No,” he blurted, shaking his head. “I want you to live here—I want you both to live here.” He looked toward Sailor, finding him dragging his claws down his scratching post. “We can get a bigger place, too. A space that’s not yours or mine, but ours.”
The tears I’d been fighting all day finally began falling. I wrapped my arms around his neck and his hands went to my waist. Our foreheads rested against each other, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose.
“You really want that?” I rasped.
“Why do you think I asked you to stay with me in the first place?” He chuckled. “I’ve wanted this before I even realized I did.”
My heart squeezed at the words, and I kissed him—I kissed him like I needed his lips to breathe, to live. The ache in my chest I hadn’t realized had been there for days slowly eased, now replaced with the nagging guilt of my family.
One thing at a time .
I clung to him, my fingers tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck. An excited laugh bubbled up my throat, and he pulled away, smoothing my hair from my face.
“You’re sure you can handle living with me?” he asked, his eyes flicking between mine. “I’m not easy to live with.” A shyness I didn't understand filled his face, pink tinging the tips of his ears. “Some days are worse than others…with my OCD, I mean.”
“I’ll be here,” I murmured. “I can try to help you.”
“On nights where it was really bad, I’d do some house project and drive you nuts with my power tools,” he explained, and my eyes widened. “But I’ll figure out another way to deal?—”
“You said you weren’t using power tools!” I gently tapped his chest. “I thought I was losing my mind!”
He laughed again, his eyes twinkling. “You’re sure you can put up with all that?”
“I’ve already been putting up with it.” I rolled my eyes teasingly.
“Yeah, but now it’s official.” His lips twitched again, like he was trying to hide his smile. “And permanent.”
Permanent .
The word settled through me—it was terrifying and exciting all at once.
We grinned at each other, our faces just inches apart. A tiny meow broke us apart, and we turned to find Sailor finally on the couch. He stared at us with wide expectant eyes, his tail flicking back and forth.
“Should I call you his cat dad?” I blurted. Ronan paused, then busted out in a fit of laughter.
“Sounds good.” He wiped his eyes. “Are you his cat mom?”
“Of course. And he’s our cat son.”
He kissed the top of my head. “That makes three of us,” he murmured against my hair.
I paused. Three of us—a family.
It settled in my chest, warm and certain. I’d never felt more sure of anything in my life. It was perfect—he was perfect.
His hands slid to my shoulders, and I turned my head, pressing a kiss to his hand. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t second-guessing if I was wanted, if his feelings were true. I wasn’t waiting for a blowup, or to navigate snide comments.
For the first time in a long time, I felt comfortable. I felt safe. I felt wanted . Loved.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was finally home.
I sank into that feeling, into him. Warmth seeped into my chest and spread throughout my body as I watched Sailor. He darted back and forth on the couch, jumping from cushion to cushion.
Everything felt right. It felt perfect.
And then a sharp ring sliced through the air. I froze. I felt Ronan stiffen.
I glanced over my shoulder at him, and his chest expanded with his breath. His chin dipped in a slight nod, and I turned to grab my purse from the coffee table. My hands trembled as I pulled my phone out, my heart lurching into my throat at my dad’s name on the screen.
It took me two tries before I could answer, and I put the phone on speaker, letting Ronan hold it.
“Hello?” I said, forcing my voice to come out calm and not shaky.
Dad roughly cleared his throat. “Hey, how—how are you today?”
It felt even more awkward than usual.
“We’re good,” Ronan said before I had a chance to say anything. Tense silence filled the air, and I heard someone whisper something in the back. I clenched my hands into tight fists, feeling them shake uncontrollably. “What’s up?”
“I was expecting to talk to ,” Dad muttered. “Alone.”
“She’s right here.” Ronan’s eyes shifted to me, a silent question in them. Did I want to do this alone? I shook my head—no, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I needed him, his silent strength, to help me navigate whatever direction this conversation was going to go.
Dad sighed sharply. “We wanted to know if you’d like to come to dinner tonight,” he said roughly. “A do-over. I think we got off on the wrong foot last night. And—and I guess your boyfriend can come, too.”
“I was planning on it,” Ronan grumbled.
“Sure,” I said. “We can go to?—”
“Vanessa said she looked up restaurants and wanted to try some place called Opaline.”
Ronan and I glanced at each other. It was a really fancy, expensive place. I pressed the mute button before speaking.
“Do you want to eat there?” I asked, and he shrugged. “Do you have anything to wear? I’ve heard their dress code is really strict.”
“I have clothes. Do you?”
I chewed on my lip. “Yeah. But—it’s expensive.”
His face softened. Reaching out, he rested his palm against my cheek. “Baby, if you’re worried about money, I’m comfortable. You never need to worry about expenses again, okay? I’ve got us covered.”
My throat tightened. “I can’t ask you?—”
“You’re not asking. I’m doing it because it’s what I want to do. Now, do you have a dress to wear?” His brows lifted expectantly, and I nodded.
“I haven’t worn it before.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Without a word, he took the phone off speaker. “Yep, we’ll meet you there,” he said. My dad was silent again, then he cleared his throat.
“Seven sound good?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
Without a word, he hung up. We stared at each other, then I let out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think my first time at Opaline would be like this,” I said.
“I’ll take you again another time, just the two of us. We can pretend like that’ll be your first time. Tonight doesn’t count.” He pressed his lips to mine and smiled. “You’re going to look incredible.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. Now, go get ready. We only have a few hours.”
For the rest of the afternoon, I went through the motions of making myself look perfect. Curling my hair, applying makeup, putting my red dress and heels on. Ronan wore a navy-blue sports coat and slacks, his hair neatly combed back, and his beard trimmed short. He looked incredible.
As we drove to the restaurant, I couldn’t help but notice the pit in my stomach. It wasn’t just dread, it was something deeper, more palpable.
All too soon, Ronan pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, and I smoothed my shaky hands over the silky fabric of my dress. My fingers were ice-cold despite the warm summer evening, and my breathing was harsh and ragged in my chest. The soft hum of the engine cut off as he shifted into park, and for a long moment, neither of us moved. The weight of everything pressed down on me, heavier with each breath.
Ronan reached over, curling his fingers around mine. “It’s just dinner,” he murmured.
Just dinner.
I swallowed hard and nodded, but something cold and oily curled in my chest.
It wasn’t just dinner.
It was a battle.
And I had no idea if I was ready to fight.