Page 12 of Dearest Ronan

“Of course it was.” He scoffs, looking at me like I’m just a child. “How could it not be? I’m your guardian.” He doesn’t believe me, and the pain in his voice is evident. What I wouldn’t give to soothe his wounds.

This time, I shake my head fiercely. “It wasn’t from you, Ronan. I promise. You only make me happy. You’veonlymade me happy.”

He sighs. Then, without a word, he turns on his heel, leaving me sitting on the bed, with my drying blood and our mixed orgasms on the sheets. Water runs in the bathroom. “Ronan?” I cautiously call.

He returns a moment later juggling a wet washcloth, a cup of water, and a bottle of Tylenol. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’ll change the sheets in a few minutes.” He hands me the cup and Tylenol as he delicately begins cleaning my inner thighs.

“So,” he says, breaking the silence. Warm water drips against my skin, so nice and comforting.

“Mmm?” I answer.

“Using each other to move from the past, huh?” His gaze fixates on cleaning me.

“Yes.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes as he finishes. His brows worry but then disappears. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Like a love-stick fool, I beam happily. Though I wish his expression matched mine rather than the slight frown and pull of his brows, I vow to help him any way I can.

He may not love me as I love him, but my love is unconditional. If Ronan Steele is mine for a few minutes at a time, I’ll take what I can get.

Ronan

I’m disgusting.

A pervert.

A fiend.

I defiled my sweet little Anika as if she had been born for me, and only me.

But that’s not true, is it? The great state of California deemed me appropriate enough to care for her, and I have—until now. Like I said, I’m a disgusting, perverted fiend.

She says she wants to help me so we can heal together. Yet, she doesn’t seem to realize that by offering her body, she’s doing anythingbuthelping me heal. I mean, FUCK, if Carolyn discovers what I’m doing with our foster daughter, she’ll have a field day in court.

I try to ignore my feelings and focus on work instead. My muscles strain as I fist a heavy chain around my forearms. I’m one of the lucky few to actually enjoy my job. It’s taxing both physically and I try to ignore my feelings and focus on workinstead, my muscles straining as I fist a heavy chain around my forearms. I’m one of the lucky few who actually enjoy my job. It’s physically and emotionally taxing, but it’s also an opportunity to get my hands dirty. Out here, with sea salt spraying against my face and the gentle rock of the freight ship, I feel useful. I have a team that relies on me, and there’s product to import and export—I’m rewarded with hard-earned money.

That’s why I never accepted Carolyn’s father’s offer to work for Wall Street. Too often, I felt like the Sunkos expected me to be someone I’m not. Did Carolyn’s love for me die, or did she think I’d just change once I learned of her expensive tastes?

Sighing, I drag a heavy chain onto the ship to secure the outgoing freight. In my role as Foreman, I monitor all tasks and assess the security of each container for travel. Today, with my mind unusually loud, I take the frontlines, all in an effort to silence the noise.

“You okay, Steele?” Maury, one of my workers, asks.

Grunting, I nod. Honestly, grunting and nodding have become my new standard. It hasn’t always been, but the last few years have been especially hard on my emotional state. Add in that I’m supposed to be a ‘man’s man’ and it’s torture.

Lord forbid I work on my mental health. My soon-to-be-ex father-in-law would call me a pussy if he caught me trying to meditate and shit. Joke’s on him. Sometimes I listen to the sound of chains dragging on the pier, or close my eyes for a few seconds and feel the rumble of the waves underneath my feet.

You know what they call that, Charles? Mindfulness.

Maury’s shoulder length blond hair practically blinds me when he whips his neck inches from my face. Surprised, a garbled sound shoots from my throat. “Watch it, man!”

“Sorry,” he mutters. I’mthe one who’s supposed to be distracted, not my men.

“Areyouokay?“ I emphasize.

Maury rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry, just had a long night.” I hope he’s not about to ramble about various sex-escapades like some dudes do.

“Yeah, well, get back to work.” Crisis adverted.

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