Page 31 of Arranged Bullied Mate
Her tone is upbeat, but we both look out the kitchen window at the same time. The sun has already set, and he’s been gone all day with no word.
A few hours, a pot of soup, and multiple hot chocolates later, Emily retreats upstairs, her voice soft as she tells me to get some sleep too, even though I suspect she knows that’s a pointless request. I know she would stay if I asked, but the exhaustion is radiating off her in waves, and besides, I’m grateful for the solitude. I fix myself yet another cup of hot chocolate and take a seat at the kitchen island with a clear view of the drive so I can see if Ronan returns.
There’s a point, just after midnight, when I finally let my eyes close for a moment. The mug has long since gone cold, and I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. The next thing I know, I’m jerked awake by the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel. It’s so loud that I know instantly it’s Ronan’s truck. I’m on my feet before I can think, heart battering my ribs as I step into the hall. The outside porch light floods the yard as a truck comes to a halt. I watch as Ronan steps out and walks around to the passenger side, gathering something in his arms before he heads toward the house. The security lights obscure his shape until he reaches the door.
He looks like hell, tiredness lines his face, and his clothes are disheveled. But I’m taken aback slightly by the smilelingering on his lips, and the small bundle in his arms. The blonde curls are just visible at the top of the blanket.
Sophie.
My body moves before my brain can even process what I’m seeing, as I bolt for the door before my legs can give way. My palms press flat against the cold glass before Ronan activates the lock, and I fling it open. The night air is cold, but I barely feel it.
Sophie is half asleep in his arms, her tiny fist curled in the collar of his flannel shirt, tangled hair sticking to her flushed cheek. She seems so small against his large frame, impossibly small to have been without her mother for weeks.
I expect her to be scared or disoriented, but she just blinks up at me, eyes huge and shining in the porch light, and smiles wide. “Mama.”
I crush them both to me before Ronan even makes it to the top step, burying my face in Sophie’s hair, inhaling her sweet scent. My hands shake as I cup her face, searching for bruises, a fever, any sign of harm, but she’s just Sophie: delicate, sleepy, and unfazed. I whisper her name over and over, tears of joy rolling down my cheeks.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I cry, dimly aware that Ronan has placed a hand on my shoulder to steady me.
Ronan cradles her so gently as he guides me back into the house and toward the couch in the den. He puts Sophie into my arms, and I simply hold her, my emotions too overwhelming to speak at first.
She’s dozing off again before I can finish cataloging every inch of her, and I tuck her against my chest, pressing my lips to her scalp. I want to say something, to thank him or ask whathappened, but my mind is nothing but static, as if there’s only room for Sophie in the middle of this miracle reunion.
Ronan comes and sits beside me, close but not touching, bracing his forearms on his knees. His soft gaze is fixed on Sophie’s serene face, but the tension in him is palpable. His voice is raw when he finally speaks. “Your parents are gone,” he says, and the words hang in the air between us, the meaning clear.
I nod. The relief almost drowns out the guilt, but not quite. “Thank you,” I whisper, even though it feels wrong to thank someone for killing your parents.
He shakes his head, jaw set. “They were going to hurt her, that was clear,” he says, voice low. “I couldn’t let that happen. I intended to spare them, your mom especially, but they made their choice.” He looks at me then, really looks, and for the first time since he learned the truth about Sophie and my parents’ plan, there’s nothing cold or closed off in his expression. “I would do it again to protect her,” he says, and I believe him.
Sophie shifts in my arms, and he leans forward, brushing the hair from her face. “She’s beautiful,” he says, his voice full of wonder and emotion. “I had to tell her who I was, that I’m her father. She was confused and upset. I told her I was taking her to you.”
I look down at Sophie, wondering how confusing that must have been for her. “What did she say?” I ask. She’s too young to have ever even thought to ask about her father.
Ronan laughs, but it’s only a distraction from the emotion written plainly on his face. “She called me Daddy,” he says, lifting his hand to hold hers gently. “Best thing I’ve ever heard.”
Fresh tears I’ve been trying to hold back begin to fall as I look at Sophie’s tiny hand in his. “Did she see what happened…with my parents?”
He shakes his head, “No. They were keeping her locked in the outbuilding,” he pauses, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you were made to live like that. Your mom grabbed a knife and tried to get to her…I had no choice.”
I put my hand on his. “You did the right thing. They were monsters—they also had every opportunity to choose differently.”
We fall into silence, both seemingly mesmerized by Sophie’s sleeping form. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, reacquainting myself with every inch of her face, afraid that any moment she could be snatched away again. Ronan is only inches from us, his presence sure and steady like an invisible blanket over my skin.
But the silence is its own kind of agony. I know what comes next. I know I need to face the consequences of my return.
I clear my throat, pushing the words out before I lose courage. “What happens now?” My voice is embarrassingly small, so I try again, a little steadier. “With me. And with Sophie.”
Ronan doesn’t answer straight away. He leans back, scrubbing both hands over his face, before looking back at me. “I need to meet with the elders tomorrow,” he says eventually. “After Maddox and your parents…there’s going to be fallout. The pack needs answers. I’ll have to tell them everything.”
I nod, fingers tracing soft circles over Sophie’s shoulder. “You mean—about me? About her?”
His gaze flickers to mine, and in it I see the weight he’s been carrying. “Yes.”
My mouth goes dry. “I’ll accept whatever the pack decides, but please don’t separate me from Sophie.”
Ronan’s eyes go wide. “Of course not,” he says, surprise lacing his words. “You are mine, both of you. I will be upfront and honest with the pack about everything that has transpired, but most importantly, about my feelings for you. I love you, Ava. I am a father. We are a family.”
He says it so simply, so certainly, that it cleaves straight through the uncertainty lingering in my soul. I stare at him, stunned, as if I’m being handed a gift I can’t even comprehend. He loves me. The words sink into my bones, solid and true, as I hold his gaze.