Chapter 13 Elio #3
Ronan’s jaw tightens, and I step forward, inserting myself into the conversation yet again. “Did Annie say which friend she was staying with in the city, after your date?”
Desmond shakes his head. “No. I didn’t want to pry, seem as if I was being too nosy in her private life.
She said she was going to spend the night with a friend, I said thanks for a nice evening, we went our separate ways.
To be honest, I was a bit worried about Maeve and wanting to get back to her. ”
“But not so worried that you didn’t go out dancing with Annie at a nightclub after dinner,” I point out.
“Oh, Christ.” Desmond rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Am I on trial here? I had no plans to be acting as a father to a hysterical eighteen-year-old, but here I am, the only one left of our family besides Maeve herself. Forgive me for enjoying a bit of a night out,” he adds acerbically.
“Alright, alright.” Ronan holds his hands up, looking between the two of us.
“If you can think of anything that might help, Desmond, contact me. We’ve no idea where she’s gone.
And tell Maeve we’re thinking of her. I’m sure Leila would love to have her over, if she’d like to come by one of these days. ”
“After what your father wanted, I’d rather not have her around the likes of you,” Desmond bites out. “If I hear anything about Annie, I’ll let you know.”
He turns on a heel, stalking out, and nearly slams the door behind him in his wake. I look at Ronan, unsure of what to say.
“You believe him?” I ask finally.
“He didn’t seem to be lying.” Ronan’s voice is heavy. “Siobhan’s death was hard on their family. Harder on Maeve than I realized, it seems. I’ve no love for the man, but it seems Desmond is shouldering a heavy load.”
“A kitten.” I shake my head. “You really think—”
“Maeve’s young. Eighteen, as he said. My father tried to suggest she ought to marry me after her sister died.
She wasn’t doing well then, and I’m sorry but not surprised to hear that she’s not doing much better now.
” Ronan runs a hand through his hair. “Bloody Christ, I wish Annie had told me she was seeing him.”
“What would you have had to say about it?” I ask curiously.
“I’d have told her absolutely fucking not. He’s a right bastard. I didn’t like having him as a brother-in-law when I was married to his sister, and I’d rather not have him as one again.”
“Which is why Annie didn’t tell you,” I point out mildly.
Ronan shoots me a look that could freeze lava.
“I’m just saying.” I hold up my hands. “This is none of my business. Helping you find Annie is. And on that note, I’m going to go talk to some of the guys at the docks, see if they saw anything last night. ”
It’s an excuse to get away, to get back up to the cabin. I promise to check in every few hours and escape back to my car as soon as Ronan nods in the affirmative. The drive to the safe house feels shorter this time, urgency pushing me to drive faster than is probably wise.
I need to see her. Need to know she's okay, that leaving her alone all day hasn't undone whatever small amount of healing she managed to find in sleep.
But more than that, I need to be near her.
It's selfish and dangerous and completely against my better judgment, but I can't seem to stop myself. Not when she’s so vulnerable, so hurt. It’s felt physically painful to be away from her for as long as I have been today.
The men watching out front of the cabin are alert but relaxed, which tells me the day passed without incident. I nod to them and let myself in with my key, moving quietly in case Annie is still sleeping.
But she's not sleeping. I can hear movement from the bedroom, the soft sound of her shifting in the bed. Despite the circumstances, my cock instantly twitches at the thought of her and a bed in the same sentence.
“Annie?” I call her name down the hall as I walk toward the bedroom, forcing away any thoughts that might worsen my arousal.
“I’m here,” she calls back a moment later, and I hear her voice crack.
When I push the door open, I see her sitting on the bed, legs crossed in the mess of tangled blankets around her.
She’s still wearing my clothes, her copper hair tangled around her face, and that pulse of desire ripples through me again before I can shove it down.
When she looks up and sees me, the relief in her eyes is so profound it takes my breath away.
"How are you feeling?" I ask gently as I step into the room.
"Better now that you're back," Annie says, her cheeks instantly flushing, as if she hadn’t meant to say that. She sits back against the pillows, pulling her knees up to her chest protectively.
Those simple words are enough to make my heart beat faster. The idea that I could make anything better for her, that her day might be improved by my being here—that’s a dangerous thought.
Slowly, I approach the bed and sit down on the edge of the mattress. “I'm sorry I had to leave. I didn't want to wake you, and there were things I needed to take care of."
"What kind of things?" Annie looks at me curiously and I pause, weighing how much I should tell her exactly.
I let out a slow breath. "I had to meet with Ronan. He's… concerned about your disappearance." It’s an understatement, and I can tell from her expression that she knows it.
Annie looks down, biting her lip. “What did you tell him?”
“That I’d look for you, too,” I say simply. "That I’d do anything I could to help him find you.”
Annie swallows hard. I try not to track the movement of her throat, to look too closely at the long line of it, the shape of her lips, but it’s so fucking hard. So hard to be close to her and not want her, no matter how much I know better.
“And he believed you?” Annie asks quietly.
I feel my jaw tighten at the reminder that I’m lying to Ronan. “For now,” I tell her quietly. "But he's not stupid, Annie. If we don't figure this out soon, he's going to start asking harder questions."
I can see her shoulders sag. “I’m sorry,” she whispers after a moment. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
Her guilt makes me feel so much worse. I run a hand through my hair, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her instead.
“Maybe not,” I say wryly, and as she looks up and her brilliant blue eyes meet mine, I feel that traitorous pang of desire again, so deep within me that it’s impossible to pretend that it hasn’t been a part of me all this time.
“But we’re here now, Annie. We’re doing this.
So whatever I can do to help you, whatever you need, just tell me.
I’ll get you through this however I can. ”
Annie is still looking at me, her gaze holding mine, and I feel the hard thump of my heart against my ribs.
We’re so close—a hand’s breadth away from each other, and sitting in a bed, all alone in a cabin far from anyone else.
That reality strikes me in the same moment that she shifts closer to me, and I tense, knowing I should get up.
I should get off this bed. I should put space between us. There’s something in her face, a yearning that I’ve been trying not to remember for more than a decade, and it’s going to undo me if I don’t put a stop to this.
It’ll undo us both.
"Annie." Her name comes out rougher than I intended, a warning and a plea all at once.
But she's not listening. She's moving closer, her hand coming up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. I can feel it hammering against her palm, betraying every emotion I've tried to keep locked away.
“You left me,” she says softly, her voice the barest hint of a whisper. “When we were eighteen. You left me.”
“Annie.” My voice is choked now when I say her name, the touch of her hand on my chest, even through my shirt, burning me to ash. “It wasn’t that simple. You know—”
“But you’re here now,” she whispers, as if I hadn’t even spoken.
And then she leans forward, and her mouth touches mine, and it’s as if eleven years disappear with the first, singular brush of her lips.