Page 104 of Play Pretend

Everything was a blur after that. Ronan helped me change into one of his T-shirts and put me to bed before grabbing a bottle of water for me. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before he returned with my medicine and migraine hat.

His touch was as gentle as his voice. He dabbed a cool washcloth along my chest and face before settling the cap over my head.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You can go back to work,” I mumbled, resting my hand on his thigh. The medication was already working, and I began drifting to sleep.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. Lifting my hand, he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Sleep now, baby.”

willow

Darkness greeted me when I opened my eyes. The air around me was freezing, like I was standing outside in the middle of winter. Reaching up, I felt the heavy weight of my migraine hat covering my head, and all the memories came rushing back.

Drinking too much last night and making a horny fool of myself in front of Ronan. The shared hangover with Gracie. The incident with Braydon. The migraine—Ronan taking care of me.

Everything hit me all at once, and I nearly groaned. Gently, I pulled it off, but it was still too dark in the room to see anything. The only light was the glowing red numbers from the digital clock on the nightstand, and I squinted, trying to make out where I was.

Ronan’s room.

The memory of him putting me to bed, gently taking care of me, made my face flush with heat. Not quite embarrassment, but with…something else. Something that made me feel a strange mixture of excitement and dread.

Because it was amazing—hewas amazing. He was kind, and sweet in ways I’d never experienced before. But there was thatline between us, the line I wanted to obliterate and pretend never existed.

With a deep breath, I sat up, feeling groggy, and rested my hand against my forehead. At least my head wasn’t pounding anymore.

I squinted at the clock beside me, the numbers nearly blinding. It was a little past two in the morning. I’d slept for nearly twelve hours. My mouth was dry, and my body was sore, but I felt good. Rested.

But if it was the middle of the night, and I was in Ronan’s bed alone…where was he?

My bladder screamed at me, and I slipped out of bed. I’d search for him later. I shuffled toward the bedroom door, ready to make my way to the small bathroom next to the guest room, but ran into something hard. There was a deep, male grunt, and I jolted backward.

Fear climbed up my throat, but I forced myself to push it down.

“Willow?” Ronan rasped. I loosed a breath, my anxiety melting away. I could barely see him in the darkness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is your migraine worse?”

“I’m okay.” I blindly reached for him, and he found my hand. Gently, he tugged me between his spread legs. The soft fabric of his sweatpants rubbed against my bare skin, and for the first time, I realized hownakedI was.

Not that he hadn’t already seen me naked, but he hadn’t been this close.

“Where are you going? What do you need?” His thumb stroked the back of my hand, and I shuffled closer to him.

“Bathroom.”

Without a word, he jumped out of the chair and led me to the en suite bathroom.

“Are you hungry? Need more medicine?”

“I’m okay, Ro,” I muttered, a soft smile teasing my lips. “My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.”

It was too dark to see his face, to know what he was thinking. All I could rely on was his voice, and I couldn’t figure it out. Was he upset that he had to take off work again? Upset he had to take care of me?

But I told him not to. I told him to go back to work, to leave me alone. I could take care of myself—I’d been doing it for years.

There was a brief second of hesitation, and then his lips found my cheek. He pressed a lingering kiss there, and I melted into him. “Do what you need to. I’ll get you some water.”

After finishing in the bathroom, I walked out, finding light pouring in from the now open bedroom door. It was far away, like he’d left the light above the stove on. I squinted as I scanned the room, finding him sitting in a chair—hischair from the living room.

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