54. Ronan
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
RONAN
NOW
Despite barely sleeping for days, I’m wide awake.
I’ve tried everything to fall asleep. Meditation. Melatonin. I even popped a fucking sleeping pill, and it wasn’t enough to quiet my brain so I could sleep.
But it’s not until four that I finally give up and slide out from between my sheets.
It’s not like it’s a mystery why I can’t sleep, and if this keeps up, I doubt I’ll get a second of rest until Chloe is no longer in the cellar.
It’s the guilt that’s doing it. The knowledge that she doesn’t belong down there alongside the knowledge that there’s nothing I can do about her situation.
Okay, that’s not exactly true.
There is something I can do, but it will be seen as treason, and my father won’t hesitate to order my execution.
Perhaps he would second-guess himself if it were Damon. He’s the one who has been molded to take Dad’s place, the one he deemed fit to lead our family into the next generation.
But I’m disposable.
It’s something I accepted a long time ago, even if that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
I tug a shirt on and head downstairs to the kitchen. The chef will be up soon to start breakfast, and I want to ask him to make chocolate chip pancakes for Chloe.
She made it clear that the familiarity between us won’t change anything, but I meant it when I said I want her to be comfortable.
At least until I figure out how to get her out of this.
I’ve spent years trying to get information about Kingston and have always come up empty, so it’s not as if I can find something and claim it came from her.
Because there is nothing to find.
He always covers his tracks, making it almost impossible to find which state he’s in, let alone the city.
Hell, for all I know, he’s not even in the states. He could be fucking anywhere.
I stop in my tracks when I find Damon sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes locked on the coffee mug in front of him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask, keeping my voice low so I don’t startle him.
“Nope.” He doesn’t bother looking up. “You?”
“Not even a sleeping tablet could knock me out.” I cross to the coffee machine and make my own cup, breathing in the caffeine I pray gives me the energy to get through the day.
“I understand my insomnia, but yours makes less sense,” I comment. After all these years he’s never explained why he went from Chloe’s best friend to her enemy overnight, and I doubt he’s going to let me in now that she’s back in our lives.
“Fuck off,” he rumbles.
“I would have thought you’d be happy that she’ll be dead soon,” I prod. He’s probably going to get up and walk out, but on the off chance he’ll give me something, I drop into the seat across from him.
His glare focuses on me, and I notice the dark marks beneath his eyes. Even when he’s been up for days on end, he doesn’t normally look so shattered, which confirms my theory about Chloe’s presence affecting him more than he lets on.
“Just say what you mean and fuck off.”
“You’re not as indifferent toward her as you want people to believe.”
He stares at me unblinking, his fingers wrapped tightly around his mug to the point I wonder if it’s about to break.
“Why do you hate her?”
“What’s not to hate?”
I roll my eyes. “Why did you go from spending every day with her to hating her existence?”
He falls quiet, and I sigh, assuming he’s not going to answer the question. It was stupid of me to think we could have a serious conversation about this when we never have before.
Damon has made a sport out of avoiding my questions about Chloe, and the fact we’re thirty fucking years old now doesn’t change things.
“She was always better off without me,” he mumbles.
I stare at him for long seconds, wondering if I heard him correctly, but then he continues.
“She saw me kill Matt. I just couldn’t face her after that. Couldn’t see her look at me with disgust for what I’d done.”
“So you started making her life miserable instead?”
He shrugs. “It made it easier.”
“Made what easier?”
This time he doesn’t bother responding. He pushes himself to his feet and leaves the kitchen without a backward glance, leaving me with more questions than I had when I walked in.