22. Tessa
22
TESSA
T he hotel room is too quiet. The kind of silence that amplifies every creak, every distant sound from the world outside, and every one of those scares the hell out of me.
I’ve been in this bed all day, wrapped in the blankets like they’re the only thing holding me together because I feel like they are. My pillow is damp with the tears I’ve tried and failed to stop, and my chest is so tight it’s painful.
Ronan left early this morning, his jaw set, his eyes cold and focused. He didn’t tell me where he was going, but I didn’t need him to. I knew. I could see it in the way he kissed my forehead before walking out the door. I wanted to beg him to stay because everything feels so much scarier when he’s not here, but I know he has to do this himself. He won’t be satisfied if the job is done by his men.
I curl up tighter, clutching the blanket as if it can protect me from the awful thoughts swirling in my mind. What if something happens to him? What if he doesn’t come back? The fear is eating me alive. I want to ask one of the bodyguards outside the bedroom if they know anything, but if they do, they probably won’t tell me. I just have to wait for Ronan or one of his brothers to show up. And fuck, if one of them steps into this room, I might as well end my life right here. Because while our relationship might be new, Ronan has been my anchor for six years, and I don’t think I can survive without him.
When the door finally opens, my head snaps up. Ronan walks inside, his movements slow, deliberate, his face blank. His knuckles are raw and bruised, blood staining all his skin. He doesn’t say a word, just shuts the door behind him and heads straight to the bathroom.
I sit frozen for a moment, my heart hammering. Then, slowly, I slide out of bed, my bare feet padding against the carpet. The sound of the shower turning on reaches me as I stand outside the bathroom door, hesitation warring with my desperate need to be close to him. Is he okay? Is he hurt? Why didn’t he say anything when he walked in? Did they not find Smoke? Or did he not want me to see all the blood on him? I don’t give a fuck how much blood is on him as long as it’s not his. I know what I signed up for when I married him.
After pushing the door open, I step inside. Steam fills the room, clouding the mirror and softening the harsh light. Ronan stands under the spray, his head bowed, water cascading over his broad shoulders and tattooed back. He looks so strong, like he always does, but there’s something about the way his hands grip the tile wall that tells me he’s carrying more than I is visible.
I don’t think. I just move.
I peel off my clothes and step into the shower, the hot water hitting my skin in a rush. Ronan turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine, questioning but unguarded. His expression softens just a fraction, and he immediately reaches for me to hold me steady so I don’t slip.
I stand there, the water pooling at our feet, and reach out a trembling hand to touch his jaw. “Daddy,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the cascading water.
He places his hand over mine, his grip firm but gentle. “He’s dead, baby.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Relief, grief, anger—they all crash over me at once, and I stagger, my knees threatening to give out. Ronan catches me instantly, his strong arms wrapping around me as I crumble against his chest.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, holding me close. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. He’ll never hurt you again. Daddy’s got you.”
The sobs come hard and fast, wracking my body as I cling to him. All the fear, all the pain I’ve been carrying spills out in waves, and he takes it all without flinching. His hands stroke my back, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses to my hair.
“Are you sure he’s dead?” I ask through my sobs.
I don’t know why I’m asking. If Ronan says he is, then he is, but I need to hear it again for confirmation. I’ve been living in the shadow of fear for so long, and even though I know there’s still danger in the world, I’m not afraid of it like I have been of Smoke.
“I slit his throat myself and watched him bleed out. He’s dead.”
I bury my face against his neck, my crying echoing in the room. He holds me the entire time, whispering soothing words of love in my ear. I’m not sure how long we stay in there, but eventually, he turns off the water and wraps towels around us. Then, being the most amazing man he is, he carries me into the bedroom and tucks us both into bed, holding me as I drift off into the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in years.
T he flight back to Seattle is quiet, the roar of the jet engines filling the silence between Ronan and me. He keeps his hand on mine the entire time, a reassurance that I’m not alone. But even with his presence, my mind feels like it’s spinning nonstop with a slew of emotions.
By the time we land, I’m barely hanging on. Ronan holds my hand on the drive home, too, pressing his lips to the back of it several times. His touch grounds me even as tears prick at my eyes for the hundredth time. I’m glad that Smoke is dead, but seeing the man of my nightmares in person again after all this time has rocked me to my core.
The next week is a blur of emotions—grief, relief, anger, exhaustion. But Ronan is there every step of the way. He whispers soft reassurances, promises of safety, declarations of love, and anything else he thinks I need to hear. He brings me coffee in bed in the mornings, hand-feeds me most of my meals, and tucks me into bed at night like I’m the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t complain or grow impatient, even when my tears feel like they might never end. He just stays. A few times, I’ve seen him shed his own tears, though he tries to hide them from me.
I’m not sure why all my feelings are lingering for so long. I should be over it. Smoke is dead. He can’t hurt me again. And I sleep better at night knowing that. Part of me thinks it’s because I’ve been working so hard to keep myself together for the past six years, staying on guard at all times, pretending to be strong and resilient. But now that I don’t have to be those things, I’m letting it go all at once.
Nearly a week after we got home from Las Vegas, the doorbell rings. I’m curled up on the couch, wearing one of Ronan’s oversized sweaters, my face blotchy from my every-other-hour crying fest, and my hair a mess. Ronan gets up to answer it, and when he opens the door, a familiar burst of laughter fills the air.
“Surprise!” Cali’s voice rings out, followed by the chatter of seven other voices.
I sit up, startled, as Cali, Scarlet, Chloe, Paisley, Katie, Paige, and Anastasia file into the living room, their arms laden with wine bottles, bags of snacks, and an assortment of desserts. Cali grins at Ronan, patting his chest as she breezes past him. “We’re here for Tessa. Don’t try to stop us.”
Scarlet follows, holding a box of cookies like a peace offering. “This is a girls-only intervention. You’re outnumbered, Ronan.”
Ronan raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “Is that so?”
“Don’t worry,” Paisley chimes in, winking at him. “We’ll leave her in one piece.”
The girls swarm me, pulling me into hugs and bombarding me with chatter and jokes. Paige flops onto the couch beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve stayed away as long as I could to give you space, but I miss my bestie.”
I blink back fresh tears, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of love and support. “You guys didn’t have to do this…”
“Of course we did,” Chloe says, plopping on the floor with a glass of wine already in hand. “That’s what family is for.”
Ronan watches the scene unfold, his gaze softening as he looks at me. He steps closer, brushing a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
“Thanks,” Scarlet teases, smirking at him. “We’ll take it from here.”
He gives her a glare but doesn’t respond, heading up the stairs with a shake of his head. The girls burst into laughter, and I can’t help but smile, the tension in my chest easing just a bit.
For the next few hours, the living room is filled with wine-fueled laughter and the kind of chaos only this group of women can create. And it’s perfect in every way. The tears I shed are happy ones, and my cheeks ache from smiling so much. It’s therapeutic. I’ll never be able to repay these women for what they’re doing right now.
By the time they leave, my heart feels lighter and my mind clearer. As I stand on the porch waving them off, I turn to find Ronan leaning against the doorway, watching me with a small, satisfied smile.
“Feel better?” he asks.
I nod, stepping into his arms. “Yeah. I do.”
“Good,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Because you deserve to feel like this every day.”
T he soft chime of my phone draws my attention away from the project plans I’ve begun working on for the hotel. The best part about my job with Savage Entertainment is that I can do about half of it from home, which means I won’t have to travel to Las Vegas too often, especially at the start. I glance at the screen and freeze when I see my dad’s name.
For a moment, I consider ignoring it completely, but I can’t. Despite my parents’ awful plan to marry me off to some stranger, I’m somewhat thankful for it because otherwise, I wouldn’t be married to the love of my life right now. Then again, I think Ronan would have claimed me one way or another; this way just expedited it.
Dad:Can we talk? I think we need to clear the air.
My heart twists as I stare at the message. Maybe they’ve realized how much they’ve hurt me. Maybe this is their way of making amends.
Without overthinking, I call Ronan, needing to tell him before I lose my nerve.
“Hey, baby girl,” he says, his voice warm and steady. “What’s up?”
“My dad texted me,” I say, pacing the living room. “He wants to talk. Says we need to clear the air. I… I think I’m going to go over there.”
There’s a pause, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in Ronan’s head. “I’ll go with you,” he says firmly.
“You don’t need to,” I reply quickly. “This is something I need to do on my own.”
“Tessa—”
“Daddy,” I cut him off, my voice softer now. “It’s okay. They’re my parents. They aren’t going to hurt me.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I know he’s weighing the options. “They’ve already hurt you, baby girl.”
I sniffle and nod even though he can’t see me.
Finally, he sighs. “Fine. But you’re taking bodyguards with you. No arguments.”
I smile faintly, touched by his protectiveness. “Deal. Thank you.”
“Call me the second you’re done,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “I mean it.”
“I will. I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, baby girl. So fucking much.”
The drive to my parents’ house feels like it takes forever. I’m nervous but hopeful. Before I was taken, my parents and I had a good relationship. We were a family. Then everything changed, and it’s been awkward between us ever since. I don’t expect us to go back to what we had before, but I’d like to at least know they still love me because I still love them.
The door opens before I can knock, and my dad stands there, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Tessa,” he says, stepping aside to let me in. “It’s good to see you.”
I nod, walking inside. The house looks the same, but it feels different, smaller somehow. My mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “You look good,” she says softly.
“Thanks. You too, Mom.”
My dad gestures to the couch. “Let’s sit.”
I perch on the edge of the cushion, my hands clasped tightly in my lap as I wait for them to say something—anything—that will justify this visit. An apology, an acknowledgment, some sign that they regret how they treated me.
But then my dad clears his throat, his eyes darting to my mom before landing on me. “We’re glad you came. There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay…” I say cautiously.
“It’s about money,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “We’ve been struggling for some time, and we could use some help. I know Ronan has the means. We thought maybe?—”
I don’t hear the rest. The words hit me like a sledgehammer, and my chest tightens with a mix of anger and heartbreak. This isn’t an apology. This isn’t about fixing things. They don’t care about me—they care about what I can do for them.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You asked me here… for money?”
My mom shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. “It’s not like that?—”
“It is like that!” I snap, standing so quickly that the room spins. “You’re supposed to be my parents, and yet again, you fucking failed me.”
“Tessa, don’t be dramatic,” my dad says sharply. “We’re family. Families help each other. We paid a lot of money to look for you six years ago, and it hurt us financially.”
“Family?” I laugh bitterly, tears stinging my eyes. “You abandoned me when I needed you the most. You made me feel like I was nothing. And now, now you have the audacity to ask me for money? You spent less than a hundred thousand dollars to look for me. Ronan and his family spent millions! Millions! Are you serious right now?”
My mom reaches out, but I step back, shaking my head. “No. Don’t. I’m done. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t even think about me. You’re nothing to me.”
“Tessa—” my dad starts, but I refuse to let him finish.
“No! Never contact me again,” I spit through gritted teeth before storming out of the house, slamming the door with all my strength before stomping off the porch.
The bodyguard waiting outside straightens and reaches for his gun as he strides toward me. “Tessa? What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Just take me home. I want my Daddy.”
He doesn’t question me. Instead, he helps me into the back of the SUV then climbs in and says something in Gaelic to the driver. A second later, we’re tearing away from my parents’ house, a place I will never return to again.
Not two minutes into the drive, I get a text from Ronan.
Ronan: I’m waiting for you with open arms, baby girl. Come home where you belong.