Page 29 of Dearest Ronan

With too many emotions flinging about my consciousness, I’m forced to sit behind the wheel and wait. I wish I could turn myself onto auto-pilot, but I can’t.

A knock resonates on the glass to my left, prompting a cautious glance as I half-expect Carolyn. It’s not though. When I see Ronan’s wide shoulders and muscled chest, I don’t know if him being there complicates my departure or gives us closure.

Taking a deep breath, I crank down my window. Ronan’s hand rakes through his thick hair. “Come back inside?” He knows I’m leaving. We haven’t spoken in a week. How could he not?

Of course, I consider my selfishness. I’d love to bury my head back into his hard body, but it’s not right. For him, nor me, or even Carolyn.

My muscles tense, begging the words not to come from my mouth. Keep them hidden inside. Much like my true feelings for my former guardian, and much how he’s been keeping our sexual relationship a secret.

To release tension, I roll my shoulders. “I’m not going to do that,” I whisper.

Confused, his brows furrow. “Okay.” I focus on his ear rather than his eyes. He’ll read the pain in my expression if I look at his reddish-brown eyes. “I’ll see you later, then?”

Of all times, now my tears spill. I softly shake my head at Ronan.

“What do you mean, butterfly?”

Words rumble in my throat. Having no choice, I speak. “You’re ashamed of me.”

His brows furrow further, pinching into his lids. When he opens and closes his mouth several times, it’s clear he doesn’t know what to say.

Deny it!I silently scream.

Tell me you’re not ashamed, you’re just getting your shit together and need time.

Say anything to prevent me from leaving!

However, he cannot, as none of them are true. Heisashamed. Along with disgusted—the word choice he, oh so eloquently, provided Maury.

I continue. “I get it, really I do.” I’m sadness dripping like smeared ink on the final page of our story.

“I'm not ashamed of you,” he says, like he doesn’t realize that the slight hesitation he gives me is probably a knife to my kidneys.Probably.

Blinking back tears, I grip the steering wheel. “I should have stayed away and let you decide. Well, I’m righting my wrongs, Ronan. Think. Decide. Be in public with someone you can date.”

Pain flashes across his gorgeous features. It’s so unlike Ronan. He’s usually so stoic and strong. For a moment, I deceive myself into thinking he doesn’t want me to go. That he loves me, how I love him.

Yet, the pain I see on his face eventually dissolves, as it usually does. It reminds me once more what we actually are. “What about you?” he asks.

Through everything, I’ll never doubt that Ronan cares for me.

He always has.

From the moment I stepped onto his porch as a fifteen-year-old teenager who had just lost her parents, to the weekly texts he sent making sure I’m okay. “I’ve been offered a job at an independent start-up.” Leaving out how it’s in a different state, I finish with, “I’m going to take it.”

My friend Indy and I attended college together. She has her own startup in interior design, and a few months ago, upon graduating, she offered me a job. It turns out her well-off parents are investing in her business, allowing her to hire immediately.

Hopefully the offer still stands, because I'm about to show up on her doorstep.

“Your career.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yeah?” I ask, unsure what he means.

“I haven’t asked about your plans.”

“No, Ronan. You haven’t.”

I shouldn’t be sad. Really, I shouldn’t. Every push didn’t budge him, and every pull only tumbled me further into the dark depths of our hidden relationship. Still, somewhere along the way, I hoped he felt differently about me.

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