Page 28

Aisling

S omething’s wrong.

I can feel it before I’ve even fully opened my eyes. The space between us is too still. Too quiet.

I blink rapidly, willing my eyes to adjust to the darkness as I reach out my hand, searching for him.

“Ronan?” I whisper, barely breathing.

Nothing.

My hand finds his chest and holy shit.

He feels like he’s on fire.

“Ronan,” I say, louder this time, panic seeping into me. His body is slick with sweat, his breath coming out in shallow bursts.

Panic hits me like a freight train, so hard it leaves me dizzy.

I sit up, gripping the sheets around me like they will protect me against the fear clawing its way to me.

As if.

Ronan stirs next to me, and my head snaps to the side, his eyes fluttering softly.

“Hey, hey,” I soothe, running my fingers through his damp hair. “You’re burning up.”

Sitting up abruptly, he leans over the edge of the bed, nearly toppling out of it.

The sound of retching fills the air, and I peek over to find Ronan bent over with his face deep in a trash can.

My poor, sweet boy .

Rubbing my hands in calming circles on his back, I stay with him until nothing else comes back up.

He glances up at me, “M’fine.” The words come out broken and slurred.

He’s lying so bad it pisses me off.

“The fuck you are!” I snap back, harsher than I meant.

Because I’m scared.

Because it’s easier to be mad than terrified.

He tries to stand up, because why wouldn’t he? His ass makes it a couple inches off the mattress before he’s falling back into it with a groan.

“Stay here,” I say, but hesitate.

This isn’t my place.

I’m not his girlfriend.

I’m not whatever it is he deserves.

But I’m the only thing he’s got right now.

So I shove the fear deep down and force myself to move.