Page 24 of Heavy

Josh's hand trembles as he grips the taser, his eyes fixed on Ronan. I don’t blame him for his fear. Even if they don’t know he’s an ex-con, he looks intimidating in his black tank top and gray sweats. His fully tattooed arms, neck, and upper chest are all on display and it’s clear to all of us, including me, that pain doesn’t scare him.

After a few tense seconds, Josh lowers the weapon and takes a step back. “If we can’t verify that information, we’ll call the police.”

“Tuck your tails and go,” Ronan barks, turning away from them to face me. It’s as if he doesn’t fear any retaliation; maybe he’s hoping for it, giving them his back as if daring them to make a move.

They don’t retaliate, and the sound of their footsteps receding is nearly as loud as my racing heart. Ronan’s stare pierces through me, the rage and irritation deepening the blue of his eyes, more profound than the lake I’d like to drown in right now.

My chin trembles and just as I’m about to speak, he steps closer, invading my space. I clench my teeth and shut my eyes, ready for him to choke me…hurtme.

But all I feel is his body heat. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, and I slowly peel my eyes open, raising my chin to meet his impenetrable gaze. He’s so close that I can’t comprehend how we aren’t touching.

I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

His eyes dart between mine. “You aren’t hungover, are you?”

Shaking my head, I attempt to take a step back, but he raises his hand toward my neck. I see the restraint in his movement as he pauses, inches from clamping his fingers around my throat. Desperation wells in me. I know I shouldn’t, but I crave his touch, even if it’s meant to inflict pain.

“Don’t step away, do notrun, Calista.You are lucky those two found you.” He squeezes his hand into a fist. “Why did you run from me?”

Shutting my eyes, I shake my head. I can’t tell him what happened, so I’m going to just lie and hope for the best. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?” He holds no hesitation to ask.

I drop my gaze, unable to maintain eye contact as I lie. “I got a little rough with a guy last night and things got carried away.” I raise my hand to the back of my neck, rubbing the spot where the bruise is likely forming, feeling the throb beneath my fingertips.

He remains silent, and when I finally glance at him his eyes are distant, as if he’s processing something beyond my words.

“I—”

“You asked for it? Consented to it?” His tone is more neutral now, no longer agitated.

“Yes,” I answer, continuing to play the part. The fucking liar I am and will always be.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he steps away from me and I hate to admit it, but I wish he wouldn’t. “Didn’t take you for a slut.” My eyes widen at his choice word in describing me. “Tell him not the face, at least. There’s a bruise forming at your temple.” The moment I'm raising my hand to touch my cheek, he’s brushing past me. “Put some fucking ice on it,” is the last thing he says as he treks back up toward the cabin.

I cup my face with both hands, hiding behind my fingers as shame washes over me like a weighted blanket. It’s all too much—crushing me beneath the weight of my lies, sins, and the blood yet to be spilled. Soon, I fear I’ll suffocate under it all.

I’m too heavy and will crush everyone around me with my baggage.

The last week has been rough—royally so. Ronan isn’t just silent, he’s actively avoiding me. I didn’t expect much after the mess I created, but the absence of even a simple “good morning” stings.

I had at least hoped he’d notice the change in my body wash. I’m still shocked that all it took was him commanding me to switch from the one I’ve used for years, and I did it without question. He may as well put a fucking collar on me, because if he tells me to do something, I really don’t think I’d argue.

Well, besides telling him the truth about what happened that night. What am I to do? Tell him that my past that was written by someone else is coming to remind me that they arealwayswatching.

Would he protect me if I told him the truth?Ronan owes me nothing, and with being as attracted as I am to him, it’s obviously one-sided.

I drop my head onto the workbench in the center of the gutted kitchen where a large blanket is draped over it to prevent splinters while we go over plans. The contractors were just here, early on a Saturday morning, outlining what the week will entail: painting, rewiring the lighting system, and fixing bad boards and ceiling beams. Then it’s straight into the kitchen renovation.

The door to the garage opens to my left, but I don’t bother standing; Ronan will just sulk back to his room like he’s been doing.

But that’s not what happens. When warmth begins to spread over my arm, I look up to find him hovering over me. All the air in my lungs seems to vanish, and I forget how to breathe.

At least he has a shirt on, but it doesn’t do anything for how his presence makes my heart seek shelter in my stomach. I really shouldn’t be drawn to my step-uncle like this.

I’m about to ask what he wants when he leans against the table, shifting slightly closer to me.

Holy fuck, is he going to kiss me?