Page 75 of Ronan

“Ooooh.” My eyes get wide as I bounce on my feet. “Somehow, I completely forgot about that.”

“Somehow, you forgot” he mutters, rotating the shoulder that still has a thick bandage on it, and my mind rushes back to the stress of the past two days as we scrambled to coordinate our next moves. According to Reyes, there is no rhyme or reason to the timing of their visits. Once, two convoys passed through in a span of three weeks, but other times months have passed between their arrivals.

Ronan had wanted to pick up and drive away that same night, but with his injury and our supplies still a jumbled mess, we’d end up making a mistake. Carelessness isn’t something we can risk right now, although we’re both on edge, jumping at every rogue sound we hear.

He rubs his shoulder again, and I know he’s about to carry on about being stabbed. He’s already mostly healed, so I interrupt his dramatics before he can get started. “So… my surprise?”

Ronan tugs his lips to the side, his jaw working as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “It was a lot more exciting before I realized I was stealing from Reyes.”

“Thought you didn’t like Reyes?”

“Of course I don’t,” he huffs, offended, “but it’s still strange to take things knowing they’re his, even if the cave troll has been holed up this entire time.”

Damn it, I want my surprise. “He said he doesn’t mind us taking supplies.”

“Yeah, but this is… different.” His eyes flick in my direction, and as soon as he spots the excited, borderline manic expression on my face, he says, “Alright, you convinced me,” which makes me laugh. “If he has anything to say about it, I’ll just tie him to another chair. Simple enough.”

“You had him bound up like a caterpillar in a strange rope cocoon.”

A heavy arm slings around my shoulders, hugging me against him as he leads me out the door, shooing Boomerang back inside when she tries to follow. “Need I remind you why I did that?”

“No, no,” I hurry to say, patting his stomach placatingly. “We don’t need to relive that again.”

“It’s a harrowing tale, filled with violence and gore, before ending with a heroic rescue.” A giant grin spreads across his face as he makes a sweeping, dramatic arc with his hand. Warm, tingly happiness blossoms in my chest at the sight of him so carefree and loose.

This is the Ronan the world has never known—the sweet, irritating goofball that wears his heart on his sleeve—and I’m honored he trusts me enough to let his guard down.

“Was I the heroic rescuer?” I tease, and he grins at me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

“Well, it obviously wasn’t me, because I was a lump on the ground.”

He leads me into the living room of a house we cleared several days before we discovered Reyes, and I hike a brow in question. Dusty, forgotten furniture sits undisturbed, while anything useful has been moved to the garage.

Ronan is so excited he’s almost vibrating as he pulls away to stand next to an empty bookshelf. “Watch this.” After another giant grin, he pushes a finger into the center of an embellishment on the lower wooden panel. The bookshelf swings in to reveal a hidden room, and my dramatic gasp only makes him smile wider.

“What’s in here?” I charge forward, accidentally bumping him with my shoulder and sending him stumbling off balance. Who could blame me? A secret room in a camp that’s loaded full of luxuries?

It must be spectacular inside.

“There you go, running in without checking for danger first,” he scolds as I skid to a stop. “What if there were snakes in here?”

“This isn’t snakes,” I whisper, the warmth of his body pressing against my back as his arms encircle me, his chin finding a comfortable spot on my shoulder.

“Surprise!” he whisper-shouts, voice barely audible even from this miniscule distance, and I twist in his arms. My windpipe becomes tangled and tight, choking me, as my eyes dart between his. “What do you think?”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I croak, the balled-up emotion cracking right through the words as they leave my throat. “Why are you making it hurt so much?”

His brows pinch, lips parting as his tongue swipes between them. “Hurt? I don’t—”

“Every time you do something amazing, this ache shoots through my chest like my fucking heart is on fire, and ithurts, Ronan. It hurts wanting you this much.”

A soft smile crosses his face. “Should I be mean to make it better?”

“It would probably help,” I sniffle, my back finding the solid comfort of his body as I turn and survey the room.

No more than twelve feet square, the walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Colorful books line almost every inch—some old and leather-bound, others a rainbow of worn spines and fantastical titles. Two dusty, overstuffed reading chairs sit in the middle with a table and lamp between them.

“Alright,” he says, dropping a kiss behind my ear as I tilt my head to give him access. “Now that I’ve shown you, I plan to secure the door so you can never come in again.”

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