Page 27

Ronan

S he passed out so quickly. My gorgeous girl looks cute when she’s sleeping. Her soft snores fill the room as she snuggles into herself.

I smile to myself, turning to head toward the bathroom. Grabbing the fluffiest bath towel I can find, I make my way to the laundry room. A quick stop to toss it in the dryer, before I head to the kitchen.

Once there, I gather all the necessary items for top-tier aftercare, including a bottle of water, Capri-Sun, and a variety of snacks.

Turning, I head back down the hall to run a warm bath, filled to the brim with soapy bubbles. The steaming water fills the room with the scents of patchouli and rose water.

Perfect.

I set out a couple of candles when I remembered the special one I have, the one blessed by her. I move to my bedroom and grab the makeshift holder before moving it to the bathroom to place with the others. Once it’s lit, I turn toward the doorway, proud of the ambiance I created for her.

I feel a pinch.

My hands fly up to the back of my neck, it’s the same spot as last week when I lit the candle. The first time that happened, it was just weird. Now I’m convinced it’s something more. Whatever.

Making my way to the couch, I wrap her sleeping form in my arms, careful not to wake her. It doesn’t work. Her eyes flutter, barely opening. “Mmmm… what are you doing, Ronan?” she mumbles sleepily.

“I gotta get you cleaned up, nightmare.” She wraps her arms around my neck as I lift her bridal-style .

“Mmmpffff” is the only response I receive from her lips as I carry her to the bathroom.

Once I pass through the threshold, I look down at my girl, her mouth open and eyes closed. She’s asleep. Again. And I’m reminded why I love her.

“Baby girrlll,” I coo to her softly.

She rustles in my arms, mumbling softly, something about chicken nuggets and weed. Once she’s somewhat coherent, I place her on her feet. She stumbles like she’s drunk, and I throw my arm out to keep her standing straight.

“Whoa there, you gonna be okay in here?” She looks up at me, eyes squinting and bottom lip pouty.

“No,” she says shortly, her voice a little high-pitched and whiny.

She's seriously bratting right now?

“Well, alright then. Let’s get you in the tub.”

I offer my other hand, and she looks down at it, biting her lip slightly, as if allowing me this has even more meaning than the shit we did twenty minutes ago.

And I know it does.

After everything this woman has been through, she still allows me to be the one to see her at her most vulnerable.

I promise myself that I’ll never take moments like these for granted, ever. She’s literally handing me the key to her heart, and I would be stupid not to protect it with everything I am.

I take time washing her hair, running my fingers through it slowly, massaging her head. Her head drops to the side, almost falling into the water.

“You know, this would be a lot easier if you didn’t keep almost falling asleep,” I say softly, picking her head up gently .

She responds with a mmppf, and I let out a light laugh.

Her head drops forward again, and I catch her under the chin just in time, keeping her from face-planting straight into the tub.

“Baby girl,” I groan as I try my best to steady her.

She replies with sleepy mumbles in return.

I rinse her off slowly as I drag the soft sponge down the curve of her arms, tracing her tattoos, engraving her into my memory. Every touch is deliberate, a silent reminder to her body that she’s safe. That she’s mine.

When I’m finished, I pull the plug on the drain, the soapy water swirling away. She makes a faint noise of protest, but I hush it with a kiss to her temple.

“Baby, you need to rest.”

I grab a thick, warm towel, one I’d thrown in the dryer earlier, hoping she would appreciate the warmth. Wrapping her up carefully, I lift her out of the tub, her body boneless and trusting against mine.

She mumbles something under her breath again, something about a Caprisun and world domination, and I can’t help the smile that curves my lips.

“We can take over the world tomorrow, little nightmare. For now, you’re staying right here with me.”

I carry her to my bedroom, slow and steady, like every step is part of some sacred ritual. And maybe it is.

Maybe this is worship, the only way I know how to give it, protecting her when she can’t protect herself.

I place her on the bed, then gently tuck her in. And when she finally looks up at me, dazed and trusting, I know without a shred of doubt.

She’s given me more than her body.

She’s given me her soul.

And Gods help me, I will break the world apart before I ever let it hurt her again.