Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I couldn’t speak because my heart was in my throat. I reached for Ronan’s door but Cole got between me and it and pulled a gun from the back waistband of his pants before turning the knob. Panic shot through me when it didn’t open, but I didn’t even get a chance to say anything because Cole threw his weight against the door, causing it to crash open. As Cole was scanning the room for a potential intruder, I gasped at the damage. The lamp from one of the nightstands had been thrown against the wall, shattering the delicate glass base. Ronan’s suitcase and the small table it had been sitting on were over turned and I could see that all the little decorative knickknacks on the dresser and small writing table were tossed onto the floor. I went around the bed and let out a muffled cry at the sight of Ronan sitting on the floor, his back to the wall and blood dripping down his hand. The remnants of the broken mirror that used to hang on the closet door were spread all over the place.
“Ronan,” I said gently as I dropped to my knees in front of him.
Tears were coursing down his face and he was shaking his head back and forth.
“Here,” Cole said from behind me and he handed me a towel from the bathroom. I placed it over Ronan’s palm and applied pressure.
The room phone rang and Cole went to answer it. I kept my eyes on Ronan as Cole said, “Yeah, sorry about that. We were moving a couple of heavy suitcases around and a couple of them fell and knocked over a lamp. Please tell the people downstairs we’re sorry about the noise.”
Cole came back around the bed a minute later with a first aid kit in his hand. “Found this in the bathroom. There’s probably not much in it.”
I nodded and took it. “Can you give us a few minutes?” I asked.
Cole nodded in understanding. “I’ll be out front if you need me.”
“Ronan, can you stand up?” I asked. His silence was scaring the shit out of me…even more so than what he’d done to the room. He didn’t answer me and I wondered if he even realized I was there. “Ronan, baby, please look at me.”
Ronan’s eyes finally shifted to me. “I didn’t want to lose you,” he whispered. “But I knew you wouldn’t want me after I told you the truth.”
I steeled myself because I knew in my gut what he was talking about. It was a subject I’d had to push from my mind over and over in the weeks following my conversation with Hawke.
Ronan is the one who needs you now.
“Ronan, look at me,” I ordered gently. I waited until his focus was on me. “Nothing you tell me will ever change how I feel about you.”
Ronan began shaking his head so I reached out to grab his chin gently with my hand. I was relieved when he didn’t pull away from me. I leaned in and brushed my lips over his. “I love you so much, Ronan. That won’t ever change.”
He managed a shaky nod.
“Baby, there’s a lot of broken glass around you. Can you stand up and sit on the bed so I can look at your hand?”
Ronan nodded and I kept the pressure on his hand as I helped him stand. We were both still wearing shoes so I didn’t have to worry about his or my feet getting cut. I walked him around to the opposite side of the bed and sat him down. He hadn’t destroyed the lamp on that side so I turned it on and carefully removed the towel. The bleeding had already slowed and I was glad to see the cut didn’t look too deep. I didn’t see any glass in it but I asked, “Does it feel like there’s any glass in the cut?”
“No, it’s okay. Just wrap it to stop the bleeding.”
I hated how dull and lifeless Ronan sounded, but I did as he said and cleaned and dressed the wound as best I could.
“Do you want to lie down while we talk?” I asked.
Ronan shook his head. “No, I need…I need to be facing you.”
I hated that he felt like he needed to treat what he had to say to me like a confession, but it was also a telling sign. Not only was whatever he was carrying inside of him about Trace’s death really bad, he was also suffering from a heavy dose of guilt. I dragged a decorative armchair from the corner of the room and set it right in front of him where he was sitting on the bed. I sat down and took his hands in mine. I stifled the twinge of pain I felt as he pulled his hands free and settled them on his lap.