Chapter 38Ronan
38
Ronan
E den had insisted on seeing his childhood bedroom, so Ronan found himself sitting on his twin-sized bed while Eden perused his old wood bookshelf, filled with remnants of his past. Sitting on the well-worn flannel blanket, he heard a sudden snort of laughter. Her hand held up a yearbook photo of Ronan from 10th grade.
"Oh lord, you look so goofy!" She brought the photo over to him. He looked at it with a sheepish grin. He had thick Coca-Cola bottle glasses, braces, and a few sprouts of hair on his upper lip.
"If we went to high school together, I would have done all your homework just to get your attention," he said with a chuckle.
Ronan had seen some old pictures of Eden from high school. She was definitely the cool, mysterious type—wearing smoky eyeliner and edgy outfits. Ronan, on the other hand? Total nerd. He wore pocket protectors, collared shirts, and Heelys unironically. Shoes with wheels were a lifesaver when you had to rush from one class to the next. More time for studying, less time spent walking.
"I would've totally accepted that homework," Eden said, glancing at the photo of him with a fond look. "I didn't do a bit of schoolwork in high school. I was way more into music and boys."
"Were you interested in boys who used rolling backpacks? I used to pack my school bag like I was going on a weekend trip." Ronan chuckled.
Eden laughed so hard that her head tipped back, and Ronan couldn't help but smile. Her laugh was like wind chimes on a breezy day—light and musical. Even her laughter was beautiful. He didn’t mind being the punchline if it meant he got to hear it.
"You were adorable. But when did you become so hot?" Eden asked, her eyebrow-raising suggestively.
Ronan's cheeks felt warm at her question. "Late bloomer, I guess," he replied, trying to downplay the compliment. It wasn't until the end of high school that he had finally hit puberty.
"You are the perfect mix of humble and hot, a rare combination these days," she said, making Ronan roll his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips. He walked over to his closet, rummaged through his old memories, and pulled out an ancient mathlete sweatshirt from his high school days.
"Come on, I want to show you something," Ronan said as he grabbed his backpack and walked towards the window, motioning for Eden to follow him.
"Are you planning on pushing me out of the window? Wait to kill me until after we get married; then you can at least get the life insurance money," she joked, peering suspiciously out the window. He knew she was kidding, but the mention of marriage sent his heart into a wild frenzy. It was as if he had temporarily lost his mind, but that's what Eden did to his train of thought. He was a lost cause but honestly, he was okay with it if Eden was the reason. Logic? Out the window. No pun intended.
"Good point. I wouldn't want to miss out on a big payday," he replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. He leaned over to lift the window's glass pane and then turned to face her with a smirk playing on his lips. "And are you proposing marriage?" he asked teasingly.
"Arms up," he instructed, holding the sweatshirt ready to pull it over her head.
"You shouldn't push me out of the window with my arms up. They'll know there was a struggle. And yes, Vegas?" she retorted with a playful grin.
"You watch way too much true crime. And only if an Elvis impersonator does the ceremony," he chuckled.
"How else should I scare the living daylights out of myself? And deal, Vegas, with an Elvis impersonator," she agreed, her arms raised above her head. He quickly slipped the oversized sweatshirt over her head. It swallowed her, the arms hanging way too long, covering her hands, and the sweatshirt's body falling to her mid-thigh. She was swimming in it, and he couldn't help but marvel at how adorable she looked.
"You could always stay another night at the clown motel if you need a good fright," Ronan suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. "I heard Bozo misses you."
She shivered at the thought of the clown-infested motel.
"The eyes looked so real," she muttered softly, her gaze distant as she was absorbed in memories of the clowns.
He swung his leg over the window ledge and slid sideways on the sill, leaning his back against the sturdy window frame. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from the clowns," Ronan assured her in a soft, reassuring tone as he extended his hand towards her.
"My sweet prince," she said, playfully patting his cheek. With a smile, she accepted his hand.
Turning her gaze towards the window, she looked out at the flat roof covered in terracotta shingles. Ronan's other hand found its place on her hip over the oversized sweatshirt.
"Be careful," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur, "the shingles might be slippery." In response, she squeezed his hand.
He supported her as she climbed over the ledge onto the roof. She took a few small steps and settled down in the middle of the roof. Ronan swung his other leg over the ledge and carefully made his way over to where she sat. The darkness enveloped them, broken only by the twinkling stars above and the distant sound of chirping crickets. He settled down beside her on the warm terracotta shingles, feeling the heat retained from the day's sun.
"I used to sit out here almost every night as a kid," he reminisced, "It's just so peaceful. I would sit and listen to the crickets." The backyard was still the same as it was ten years ago. The surrounding trees stood tall, their branches casting shadows on the roof. Leaves rustled with a soft breeze, and the air carried a subtle smell of salt from the nearby ocean.
"Yeah, I had a place like that as a kid," Eden responded with a wistful smile, her eyes scanning the stars in the sky. "I used to walk to Summit Rock in Central Park. It's one of the highest points in Central Park, so I'd climb to the top and sit up there for hours. It's one of the few quiet places in the city." As she spoke, the moonlight projected a soft, silvery light in her eyes. Ronan reached for his backpack, unzipped it, and revealed a bottle of white wine he'd taken from his parents' bar cart while she was in the shower.
"Look what I found,” Ronan said, presenting the bottle to Eden in a Vanna White fashion, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Wow, I feel like we're back in high school. Did you swipe it from your parents' liquor cabinet?" Eden asked with a playful glint in her eyes.
Ronan chuckled as he cracked open the screw top of the wine bottle. "My high school self would be over the moon to have the cool girl over at my house. My 'mathlete' crew wouldn't believe me."
"A toast," Ronan said with a small smile, continuing their tradition of toasting before every drink. He handed the bottle to Eden, who accepted it with a smile of her own. "Here's to cheating, fighting, stealing, and drinking. If you cheat, may you cheat death. If you fight, may you fight for a sister. If you steal, may you steal a heart." He recited the words, his gaze fixed on Eden's eyes as he handed the bottle to her. "And if you drink, may you drink with me."
"Cheers," she said, her voice soft with emotion. Her eyes locked onto his for a moment before she raised the bottle to her lips and took a sip. With a gentle hand, she passed the bottle back to him.
"Your family is beautiful, by the way," Eden murmured, her head tilted to the side, resting on her bent knees. The sleeves of his oversized sweatshirt hung over her hands, making her seem even smaller in the dim moonlight. Her gaze lifted to Ronan. "They're so welcoming, Ronan. I can see both of your parents in you. Your dad's sense of humor, your mom's kindness, it's all reflected back into you."
Her eyes wandered off for a moment, lost in thought. Then, they returned to him, her gaze softened.
"You talk about me to them, huh?" Eden said with a teasing smile, and Ronan felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. He hadn’t expected his family to say so much—especially making it sound like he was obsessed with her. Okay, maybe there was some truth to that, but he didn’t plan on her finding out this soon. He thought he’d have more time to prep them before they met her, but clearly, his family didn’t play it cool. At all.
"Yeah, just a little bit," Ronan replied with a casual shrug, his lips twitching upwards. She retrieved the wine bottle from his hand, taking a casual swig before recapping it and stowing it away in the backpack. Then, she handed him the camera.
"It's time," she said, prompting him to set up the camera. Ronan attached the stabilizer to the camera to avoid shakiness due to his nerves.
"It's time to talk about my parents," Eden stated, and Ronan nodded in response, switching on the camera. As he did, he swallowed hard, attempting to moisten his dry throat, feeling the weight of nervousness lingering in the pit of his stomach.
"I grew up on the Upper West Side in one of those old brownstone apartments with the fancy crown molding. The place had all this ultra-modern furniture, but honestly, I never got why it had to be so uncomfortable. It's like they just wanted to show off how rich they were by making sure you couldn't relax. The floors were this cold, white Italian marble."
She paused for a second, a cloud crossing her face as she thought back. "One of my first memories is accidentally spilling paint on that marble floor. My father lost it. He was so angry, he locked me in my room for twelve hours until school the next day. No dinner, no bathroom breaks. I was six." She shook her head a little, her voice shaking with the weight of the memory. Ronan couldn't help but inhale a shaky breath as Eden shook her head, her gaze sad as she looked up at the stars again.
Eden’s voice softened as she spoke, “By the time I was eight, my parents would leave me alone for days, usually on business trips. Our apartment was close to Central Park, so I'd walk down and cross the street by myself. I'd wander around the park, looking for them, not even realizing they'd left me behind.” She let out a small, bitter laugh. “My dad was totally against hiring any staff or babysitters. I guess he didn’t want anyone around who could see how messed up everything really was. So, I just lived on peanut butter sandwiches for days because I had no idea how to cook.”
She trailed off, her gaze distant as her thoughts drifted back to those years.
"By the time I was ten, they were still going on trips, but I stopped going to the park to look for them. It was honestly better when they weren’t around." Eden paused. "It's crazy to think that, at ten, I could see my parents for who they really were."
Her gaze shifted far away, lost in the memories that seemed to pull her in. "My mom," she went on, her voice quieter now, "had really bad mental health issues. She’d lock herself in her room for hours, barely able to get out of bed. I’d make her peanut butter sandwiches just to make sure she ate something. Otherwise, she wouldn’t eat for days."
Her hand found his ankle, gripping it tightly like she needed something to hold on to.
"My dad was the one I learned to avoid at all costs," Eden said, her voice low and steady. "He had this rage inside him, always ready to explode. One wrong move, and he'd yell at me until he was out of breath. My mom... she just let him do it. She let him tear her down every day. Eventually, when I got old enough, I started getting the same treatment."
Her grip on his ankle tightened, then released, as if she was trying to hold on but couldn't. "As a kid, I didn’t know which was worse—when he ignored me completely or when he screamed at me."
She paused, swallowing hard, her words laced with bitterness. "At one point, I thought getting yelled at was better. At least he noticed me when he was yelling. But it got so bad that I just started doing anything I could to stay out of his way. It was like being a prisoner in my own home.”
Eden took a slow, shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was like this twisted thing, having everything—money, the nice apartment, all of that—but nothing else. My dad was obsessed with appearances. He’s a CEO of a big hedge fund. My mom came over from Albania and was a successful print model. They’d throw these fancy parties at the apartment, and my dad would show her off like she was some kind of trophy. I was expected to play along too, always smiling, acting perfect. But if I messed up, even once? Once the people left, he’d scream at me again."
Her voice broke at the end, and Ronan could feel the weight of her pain in every word. It was like it was cutting right through him.
"I didn’t even realize my family wasn’t normal until I started grade school," Eden said, her voice quiet. "When I met Ingrid in 7th grade, we became fast friends and I would stay at her place for days. Her house became my safe space. Her parents pretty much adopted me when I was fourteen. Her dad was the one who got me my first guitar. He had this old one from his teenage years that he gave it to me. I spent hours after school teaching myself how to play. It became my escape, my way of dealing with everything. I started writing music, channeling everything I was feeling into it. That’s how I learned to understand my emotions."
Eden’s voice wavered as she spoke. "When I turned fifteen, my mom passed away. By the time they figured out she was sick, it was already stage four breast cancer, and she was gone within a few months. That’s when everything really went downhill. My dad... he just got angrier, and it started getting dangerous."
Her voice broke slightly, a sharp ache lingering in every word. Ronan could see the pain in her eyes, and it tugged at his heart.
As he listened, Ronan couldn't help but be in awe of her strength. The way she spoke with such raw honesty about everything, yet still carried herself with a quiet resilience—it was a strength he couldn’t even fully comprehend. Despite everything she had been through, Eden had found a way to keep moving forward, to keep searching for light in the darkest of places. It was incredible, really.
"Ingrid's dad stepped in when things got really bad," Eden said, her voice a little quieter now. "He basically threatened to expose my dad's behavior if he didn’t let me leave. And, of course, my dad couldn’t risk his reputation, so he let me go." Eden paused for a moment, taking a shaky breath. "I moved in with Ingrid and her family when I was sixteen, and by the next year, I was emancipated. I legally changed my last name. Percy is actually my middle name, but I couldn’t keep my dad’s last name anymore. It held too many bad memories. I haven’t heard from him since."
A slight shiver passed through her, whether from the cold or the nerves, it was hard to tell.
"The two people who were supposed to love me... just didn’t. And my dad still doesn’t," Eden continued, her voice tight with emotion. "He never even tried to reach out. I just can't help but wonder if it’s me. Maybe there's something wrong with me."
She fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt, twisting it in her hands. "There's this voice in the back of my head, always telling me, ‘Maybe you’re just not enough.’ First my parents, then Liam... I’ve lost so many friends. It feels like it’s not normal."
Her voice wavered as she spoke, and by the end, it was barely above a whisper. Tears slipped down her cheeks, unspoken pain and years of bottled-up emotions escaping all at once.
His breath caught in his throat, and he felt a burning behind his eyes. Carefully, he leaned his camera against the roof shingles, propping it against the gutter. He closed the distance between them, his body inching closer to hers, and pulled her in his arms. She nestled her head into his chest while he gently rubbed her back.
"I am so sorry about what you have been through. There are so many people that love you in this world," he whispered. His hand moved tenderly to the back of her head, his fingers brushing through her hair gently. A lump formed in his throat, and his own eyes welled up with tears he fought to contain. He was trying to hold himself together for Eden's sake.
"Ingrid loves you, Quentin loves you. Your fans love you. I've seen it firsthand," he added, recalling the night he had set up his camera for her concert. "Even behind the scenes, I overheard people in the crowd gushing about you. Every one of your songs is a piece of your soul bared to your audience. Your music and presence are more than entertainment; it's a lifeline for some. You've touched so many lives with your music." Ronan knew it was true. He had seen it in the way her lyrics resonated with people. And as he spoke those words, he couldn't help but acknowledge that she had touched his life too, in ways he was only beginning to understand.
"I..." I love you. The words almost slipped from his lips like a sigh, but Ronan caught himself just in time. He couldn't say it, not yet. He took a sharp, quiet inhale through his nose, willing himself to hold back. Eden's arms wrapped around his torso, and he felt her warm tears soak into his shirt. He needed her to understand, to see the depth of his feelings, even if he couldn't voice them just yet.
"Look at me," he whispered, his voice soft and tender. Her gaze lifted to meet him, and he saw a kaleidoscope of emotions in those eyes. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her cheeks flushed with emotion.
"You are not unlovable, Eden," Ronan said with unwavering conviction, his voice filled with sincerity. His hands trembled slightly as he reached up to gently cup her tear-streaked face, his touch gentle yet firm.
"You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out. There's a light within you that shines through, that illuminates every person you meet." His thumbs brushed away her tears. "I'll dedicate every single moment, every heartbeat, to prove it to you. I don't care how long it takes."
Eden pulled back slightly, her eyes still filled with tears. Ronan's heart ached at the sight of the vulnerability in her gaze, at the squint of doubt that seemed to be slowly giving way to something else.
"You're incredible, you know that?" Ronan whispered, his voice full of admiration. He leaned in a little closer, his breath mingling with hers in the cool night air. "You've been through so much, but you still find a way to keep your heart open." He gently wiped away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. "Most people would shut everyone out after everything you've been through, but not you. Even after all the people who were supposed to protect you, hurt you."
Ronan's gaze remained fixed on Eden as he spoke, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. He watched as a soft sniffle escaped her, her eyes glistening with tears.
"The thing is, I don't let people in," Eden confessed, her voice soft yet resolute. Her gaze remained fixed on Ronan. "Ronan, you're the only person I've allowed into my life like this."
Her hands found their way to his thigh, her touch gentle, and Ronan felt a rush of warmth flood his chest. "I haven't told anyone about my parents," Eden continued her voice barely above a whisper. "The only people who know are Ingrid and her family."
As their eyes met in the dim moonlight, Ronan felt this rush of gratitude wash over him. He realized the depth of trust Eden had placed in him, entrusting him with her most guarded secrets.
"I'm honestly honored, really," Ronan said, his voice warm. "These past few weeks have been amazing. I feel like I could spend every second with you and still want more." His tone shifted, lightening a bit with a playful edge. "I could kiss my boss for landing me this project."
Eden slowly moved her right hand from his thigh to the back of his neck. Her touch was feather-light, barely grazing his skin. Ronan's breath caught in his throat as he felt the soft caress of her fingers, and his gaze instinctively dropped to her, catching the subtle flicker of her eyes to his lips.
"Maybe just kiss me instead," Eden whispered, her breath warm against his lips. She brought his head down with a soft tug, closing the distance between them. As their lips softly met, the universe itself seemed to hold its breath, and the rest of the world dissolved into a distant hum.
Ronan's heart thundered within his chest, its rhythm echoing in his ears as he melted into the kiss. His fingers instinctively became wrapped in the silken threads of her hair, grounding him in the moment.
Their first kiss had been a lightning strike, charged with raw, burning desire. But this kiss? It was something else entirely. It was unhurried, soft, like they were taking their time, savoring the moment. Ronan's devotion to her lips was resolute, each movement deliberate, each touch a testament to his reverence. When the kiss eventually ended, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling, and for a second, he wished he could freeze time and stay like that, just a little longer.
When his eyes slowly blinked open, he met her gaze, and in that instant, he swore he could see something in her eyes that made his heart skip.
"You see me," Eden whispered, her words like a delicate caress, her breath warm against his skin. "You see past everything, and you see me, not the person I show to the world, but who I really am. I don't need to hide around you."
His heart swelled, and he nodded in silent understanding. He closed his eyes briefly before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as if sealing a promise.
"Please don't ever hide from me," he whispered. A faint shiver passed through Eden at his words. He wrapped his arms around her to shield her from the cool night air. She leaned into his arms and sighed happily, her body relaxing against him. Eden yawned loudly and snuggled closer to him.
"Come on, let's get you to bed," Ronan said, his voice soft. He reached for his camera, realizing it was still recording, and switched it off before stowing it away in his backpack. With the straps slung over his shoulders, he turned his attention back to Eden, extending his hand to help her stand.
Eden grasped his hand firmly, leaning on him as she rose to her feet. Together, they made their way towards the open window. Ronan's hands rested on her hips, guiding her as she climbed inside his room, and he followed suit.
Ronan dropped his backpack on the desk next to the debate team trophies, then walked over to the window, carefully closing it. With a flick of the light switch, the room was bathed in a soft, moonlit glow. When he turned around, he saw Eden curled up in his small twin bed. He smiled, walking over and brushing a kiss to the top of her head.
Just as he was about to pull the covers over her and head for the couch, her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
"Where are you going? Come lay down with me," Eden mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, tugging gently at his wrist.
He lowered himself onto the mattress and settled onto his back. Eden nestled beside him, her head finding its place on his chest, her arm draped across his torso. Ronan was struck by how perfectly she fit in his arms, the warmth of her body pressing against his. He could feel the slow rise and fall of her chest as she drifted off.
"I love you," he whispered against the soft strands of her hair, words carried on the gentlest of breaths—an unspoken secret that he hoped would find its way into her dreams.