Page 135 of Play Pretend

“I hate them,” he said roughly. “I hate how they speak to you. I hate how they make you feel. I hate the games they play. I hate it all. I don’t want you to deal with them anymore—I don’t want you to feel like you have to be around them anymore.”

“They came all this way?—”

“I don’t care,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re awful to you, baby. You deserve so much better.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “We can make it two more days,” I said softly. “We can do it.”

His eyes flicked between mine, the muscle in his jaw feathering. “Fine,” he finally growled. “But the second they pull shit like this again, we’re out.”

A smile, the first one of the night, pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Thank you for protecting me,” I whispered. He pressed a kiss to my lips again, then led me to his truck.

“You never have to thank me for that, baby.”

As I slid into the seat, that smile never left my face. It was the worst dinner of my life, but with him by my side, it didn’t seem so bad. Their words didn’t land so hard, because he was there to absorb their blows.

It was the first time in my life anyone had ever proved that they were on my side. It was the first time anyone had ever protected me fromthem. And all it did was make me fall a little bit more in love with him.

willow

“What do you think we should name him?” I asked, smoothing my hand over the kitten’s orange fur. He was much more stable today—less shaky, clean, but just as mischievous. He stumbled from my lap onto the bench seat and sauntered toward Ronan.

“Hmm.” Ronan lifted the kitten into his lap, laughing as he stepped across his thighs toward the buttons on his door. He stuck a hesitant paw out, tapping the buttons just as he had when I’d driven him the other day. “Maybe Button?”

I snorted as I reached across, snatching the kitten up and bringing him back to my lap. “How about Trouble?”

Maggie told us she thought he was only about eight weeks old. Apart from being dehydrated, underfed, and having a scrape on his back leg, he was healthy. We were told to bring him in next week for his shots and a regular checkup to make sure he was still doing alright.

I hadn’t realized I’d been so anxious about him, but when Maggie told us he was healthy, and that we could bring him home, a relieved breath left me. Ronan wrapped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me to his side as he held the kitten in his other hand.

“What about Lighthouse?” he suggested, and I hummed.

“It’s a mouthful,” I muttered, and he grinned. “Dirty mind.” I playfully tapped his shoulder as I laughed. The cat reached for my arm with his paws, wanting to play with the jingly bracelets on my wrist.

“Alright, not Lighthouse. What about…”

“Sailor?” I murmured. I didn’t know where that name came from, but it felt right.

Ronan was silent for a moment. “Sailor,” he repeated, as if he were letting the syllables roll around on his tongue. Just hearing the name fall from his lips for the first time made my heart flutter. “Sailor. I love it.”

I grinned as I picked the kitten up. He waved his paws around in the air for a moment before he let out a softmeow. “Hi, little Sailor,” I cooed, running my finger over his nose and tiny head.

The rest of the drive was spent trying to keep Sailor from falling on the floorboard, and from playing with the buttons on the door. All too soon, we pulled up in front of the house. I held my breath, almost expecting to find my dad, Lydia, and Vanessa out front, but thankfully, they weren’t there.

Ronan let out a long breath, and I glanced at him. “Did you think they were gonna be here too?” I asked, and he cracked a small smile.

“Yeah. But thank fuck they’re not.” He leaned across the seat and pressed a kiss to my temple before kissing Sailor. “Ready to see your new home, little guy?” Ronan’s hand swallowed the kitten’s tiny body as he lifted him from my arms. He slipped from the truck, but I stayed sitting for another moment, just needing to breathe.

Rummaging in my purse, I pulled my phone out. The screen was blank, just as it had been all day. I hadn’t heard from anyone. It almost felt like they were punishing me for last night.Maybe I should call Dad and try to smooth things over? But just the thought of doing that made bile rise in my throat.

The door suddenly opened, and I blinked back the tears I hadn’t realized gathered on my lashes. I gave Ronan a wobbly smile as he stared at me. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Sailor looked comically small against his broad frame, and I almost laughed, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to. Ronan adjusted his grip on the kitten, keeping him from falling over the edge of his hand.

“Yeah,” I breathed, shoving my phone back in my purse. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he stepped aside, watching as I slid from the truck. I shut the door with more force than was really necessary, like it would somehow shake this feeling clinging to me. Not quite guilt, not quite unease. It was a bastardized mix of the two, and Ihatedit. Hated feeling weak and small, just like I always did around them.

I wanted to change. I wanted to be stronger. Did everyone feel like this when they put themselves first? When they decided they were tired of backhanded and gaslighting comments?

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