Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Bianca
Caitlin meets us at the door. “We'll go to the guest room on the first floor for now,” she says, glancing at Ashland's leg. “So you don't have to deal with stairs. My god, he took a proper beating, didn't he?”
“Gave worse than he took,” I tell her honestly.
“Aye, he did,” Tiernan agrees, helping guide Ashland to the bathroom while I hover, my hands shaking.
“Sit,” I order, pointing at the closed toilet seat.
Ashland obeys without argument, which tells me exactly how much pain he's in. He doesn't argue or joke, just sits down heavily and closes his eyes. Tiernan taps pain relievers into Ashland’s palm, and he swallows them dry.
Tiernan claps him on the shoulder. “You did well, lad,” he says, then leaves us alone .
I turn on the water in the sink, letting it run warm while I gather supplies. Someone has left clean towels and a first aid kit on the counter. My hands are trembling as I wet a washcloth.
“Bianca,” he says softly, “I can do this. I'm fine. The doctor’s coming.”
“You're not fine,” I say, kneeling in front of him. “You're covered in blood and bruises, and god knows what else. Just shut up and let me help you.”
His lips twitch, almost forming a smile, and he winks at me.
I start with his face, gently wiping away the dried, crusted blood.
The gash above his eyebrow is deep—it might scar, and it probably needs stitches.
His lip is split, his jaw already turning purple, and there's a cut on his cheekbone that’s still seeping.
He doesn't flinch, doesn't make a sound, just watches me with those storm-gray eyes.
Blood wells onto the washcloth as I work.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
I pause, the washcloth hovering near his temple. “For what?”
“For making you see that. For?—”
“Don't.” I press my finger gently against his mouth, careful of his split lip. “Do not apologize for protecting me. I went there of my own accord. ”
“I know,” he says darkly. “I noticed. And you are damn lucky I'm injured right now.”
I swallow hard. “I know that too.”
He sits quietly, and the corner of his lips turns up slightly.
“Listen,” I tell him. “Don’t apologize for being what you are. I chose this. I chose you.”
He catches my wrist and presses a kiss to my palm, his eyes never leaving mine. “You're too good for me, lass.”
“Maybe,” I agree.
He chuckles, then winces, grabbing at his ribs, likely broken. I go back to cleaning his face.
His hands are the worst, knuckles split open, raw and bleeding, swollen to twice their normal size. Bone is visible in some places.
“Jesus, Ashland.” My eyes sting with tears.
“I've had worse,” he says casually.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
I clean every knuckle carefully, trying not to hurt him, but I know it must sting.
There's a knock at the door. “Bianca? It's Caitlin. The doctor’s here.”
The door opens, and an older man with white hair and a medical bag enters. I can tell by the way he doesn't even blink at the blood that he's seen this before, probably many times.
“Ashland McCarthy,” he says with a knowing look. “I see you've gone back to the ring, lad.”
“Doc,” Ashland greets with a nod.
“Let me take a look.” He sets his bag down and turns to Ashland.
I don't move though. My hands are still wrapped around Ashland's. Just because the doctor is here doesn't mean I have to go.
“Miss, I'm going to need you to step back so I can examine him.”
“I'm fine here,” I say.
“Bianca,” Ashland starts.
“I'm not leaving .”
Caitlin appears in the doorway. Bronwyn and Kyla are behind her, and suddenly we're all crowded in this small bathroom.
“Love,” Caitlin says gently, “let the doc work. Come—we'll keep you company.”
“No.” I tighten my grip on Ashland's hand. When I blink, warm, fat tears fall down my cheeks. “I need to make sure he's okay.”
“Bianca?” Bronwyn says softly. “He’s not going anywhere. ”
“What if they find something worse? What if something's broken?”
“Lass.” Ashland's voice is low and soothing. “I'm alright. Let him check me over, eh? You can stand right outside the door. If anything's wrong, you'll know right away. Okay?”
“But what if?—”
“Nothing's wrong. I'm fine.” He winks at me, though it looks painful with his swollen face.
I bite my lip and look between him and the doctor. Bronwyn comes forward and takes my hand gently.
“Come on.”
Reluctantly, I let her pull me away from Ashland. I pause at the door, looking back. He's watching me, his expression soft despite the damage.
“I'm fine, love. Promise.”
I nod, not trusting my voice, and step into the hallway. The door closes behind me, and I immediately press my ear against it. I can hear Ashland's low, rumbled responses and the doctor's higher-pitched voice as he works.
“It's going to be okay,” Caitlin says behind me. “Come now.”
I turn to find the three women watching me, each with varying expressions of understanding .
“I know,” I say. “I just—I don't want to lose him.”
“You won't,” Bronwyn assures me. “He's too stubborn. Too in love with you.”
“The man's a goner,” Kyla adds with a smirk.
I manage a weak smile.
Caitlin steps closer and pulls me into a hug. I freeze for a second, then turn into it. It feels good, maternal in a way I haven't really felt before.
“Proud of you, lass,” she says quietly.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“For being there. For standing by him. For not running when you saw what he really is. That's not easy.” She pulls back to look at me. “You're incredibly brave.”
“Some women would've run screaming,” Bronwyn adds.
“I didn't feel brave,” I whisper. “I was terrified. I almost threw up.”
“Oh, being terrified doesn't mean you're not brave,” Kyla says, leaning against the wall. “Sometimes brave means being scared out of your mind and doing it anyway, aye?” She grins at me. I think it's the first time she has. “Welcome to the family, Bianca.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. Family. I've spent my whole life hating who I thought the McCarthys were, believing they were monsters responsible for my father's death. And now they're welcoming me in. Accepting me. Calling me family.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The bathroom door opens, and I spin around so fast I nearly knock into Bronwyn. She steadies me with a laugh.
“Easy there. He's fine, love. My god, aren't you smitten?”
The doctor steps out. “Bruised ribs, cracked ribs, possible minor concussion. His hands will hurt like hell for a while, but nothing that won't heal. And something tells me he's got a nurse who'll take good care of him, eh?” He smiles kindly at me. “You can go in. He's been asking for you.”
I don't wait for him to finish. I push past him back into the bathroom. Ashland's still sitting on the toilet seat, but now he's wrapped up in bandages. His hands are carefully taped, and there's a butterfly bandage over the cut on his brow.
His face lights up when I walk in. “There she is,” he says.
I cross to him in three steps and wrap my arms around his neck, mindful of his ribs.
The doc calls from behind us, where he's packing up his bag. “You've gone down as a bit of a legend, Ashland McCarthy. Beating Crowning's heir in single combat. Everyone's talking about it. Haven't seen a fight like that in years.”
Ashland's jaw tightens. “Didn't do it to be a legend.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to his chin, careful to avoid his injuries—which is actually quite hard, considering how battered he is. “And I'll always be here to patch you up afterward, I guess.”
He smiles and catches my face in his bandaged hands, tilting my head up to kiss me properly, slow and deep, full of promise. I sigh against his mouth.
“Kyla told me, ‘Welcome to the family,’” I whisper when we part.
“How do you feel about that, lass?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
I think about it. About Caitlin's hug, Bronwyn's kindness, and Kyla's fierce approval. About Seamus giving us a safe place to land and Tiernan coaching Ashland through the fight. Lorcan’s immediate defense of his brother and Nolan’s twinkling eyes when he saw the two of us together.
About this family I was raised to hate, who are now welcoming me with open arms.
“It feels like home,” I whisper. “It feels like I belong.”
“Good.” His face transforms. The hardness, the violence, the monster—it all melts away, leaving only the man. The man who loves me. “Then let's go home,” he says. “Our home. The cabin. Just you and me.”
“We can come back here anytime we want, can't we?”
“Anytime you want. I'd crawl here if I had to. ”
I actually laugh and help him stand. He's stiff and clearly in pain, but he doesn't complain. When we step out into the hallway, the McCarthy women are waiting. The doc's already gone.
“Take care of him,” Caitlin says quietly.
“And let him take care of you back,” Bronwyn adds.
“And for the love of god,” Kyla says with a grin, “keep him out of the ring for at least a few days, eh?”
I smile at all of them. “I'll do my best.”
As we walk toward the door, I glance back at the McCarthy women one more time. They're smiling, watching us go. And somehow, despite everything that's happened—despite all the pain and fear and violence—it feels perfectly right.