Page 136 of Play Pretend

Behind me, Ronan locked the truck seven times, his footsteps steady and unwavering. I climbed the stairs and stepped to the side, watching as he slid the key into the lock. He paused before he opened the door. His gaze shifted to mine.

“You don’t have to talk to him,” he said softly. “You don’t have to talk to any of them ever again. Not if you don’t want to.”

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “It’s not that easy,” I muttered. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand. Sailor squirmed in his palm, but Ronan readjusted his grip, holding him tighter to his chest.

“It can be,” he whispered. “I’m here. I can be the buffer. I can do—something. I’ll do anything, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

Tears clogged my throat. “I don’t know what I want,” I rasped, my voice thick.

His eyes flicked between mine for another moment. “When you do know, just tell me and I’ll take care of everything.” He kissed my forehead, and I leaned into his touch. “Let’s get this guy inside, huh?”

I smiled as I nodded, watching as he shoved the door open. He set Sailor on the ground, and he took off, tiny paws tapping against the hardwood floor. He skidded to a stop by the couch, his tail wagging as he took it all in.

“Here’s your kitty tree,” I said, moving toward it. Ronan did his usual ritual, checking the locks, microwave, and stove. “Come here, Sailor. Your—Ronan built it for you.”

I didn’t know if Ronan wanted to be a cat daddy or not. Just because I wanted Sailor didn’t mean Ronan did. Even if he had built the tree and bought all this stuff for him, it didn’t mean he wanted a cat in his house all the time.

I sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and watched as Sailor stumbled around the tiny living room. Ronan made his way from the kitchen to us and sank into his chair. He rested his forearms on his knees as he leaned forward, a small smile on his face.

“You think he likes it here?” he asked, and I laughed softly.

“He’s trying to scale your couch like a rock climber,” I muttered. He huffed out a laugh, rubbing his palms together as he watched Sailor climb a few inches, then fall back to the floor. “I think he loves it here.”

I do, I almost said, but I held myself back.

Knowing I needed to go back home soon lingered in the back of my mind. I was sure Ronan wanted his own space again, that he was probably tired of company filling his house. I’d only been here a week and had already made a mess of things.

His house had been spotless, almost clinical with how uncluttered it was. And then Tornado Willow entered thepicture, and there were a million blankets on the sofa, clothes strewn around the guest room floor, makeup and hair products littering the countertop in the guest bathroom. I was a mess—I made a mess of everything. Now with Sailor, he probably wanted his peace and quiet back but was too nice to tell me to leave.

I took a shuddering breath, not wanting to even bring this up to him, but I knew it was time. When I looked at him, he was already staring at me.

“What is it?” he whispered, his voice almost guarded like he was anticipating the worst. My lips wobbled as I pressed them together.

“I can go back home,” I rasped. “Maybe tomorrow? Or…or the next day?”

He just stared at me. Time stretched, seconds ticking slowly by. Sailor continued exploring the house, but all I could do was focus on Ronan’s intense gaze.

“Is that what you want?” he finally asked, his voice low.

“Isn’t it what you want?”

“Don’t turn it around on me.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. “What doyouwant, Willow? Do you want to go back home?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. Did I tell him the truth? What if he didn’t feel the same way? I didn’t want him to feel like I was forcing him into this. But with the way he was staring at me, almost like he was willing me to sayno, I took a chance.

A deep breath filled my lungs, and I shifted onto my knees, crawling toward him. His throat bobbed as he watched me slide my hands onto his knee.

“I don’t want to leave,” I admitted. “I will if you want me to, though. But?—”

“No,” he blurted, shaking his head. “I want you to live here—I want youbothto live here.” He looked toward Sailor, findinghim dragging his claws down his scratching post. “We can get a bigger place, too. A space that’s not yours or mine, but ours.”

The tears I’d been fighting all day finally began falling. I wrapped my arms around his neck and his hands went to my waist. Our foreheads rested against each other, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose.

“You really want that?” I rasped.

“Why do you think I asked you to stay with me in the first place?” He chuckled. “I’ve wanted this before I even realized I did.”

My heart squeezed at the words, and I kissed him—I kissed him like I needed his lips to breathe, to live. The ache in my chest I hadn’t realized had been there for days slowly eased, now replaced with the nagging guilt of my family.

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