Page 64 of Heavy

“It’s alright. Why do you want to know?”

Closing my eyes, I pull my knees to my chest. “He said something that stuck with me…”

He hums. “I can see if he wants your number.” I’m completely taken aback by his comment. “He isn’t a bad person. Has he done bad things? Yes. However, he is the creation of a world that has done nothing but not listened. I’m not saying meet up with him. I’d prefer that he stay physically away from anyone until he can figure out what his purpose is now that he is out.”

And here I am, living under the same roof as him. I get why people find Ronan scary—hell, I did too at first. But now? Now, I don’t feel that way.

“But that doesn’t mean he should be alone. Texting and chatting wouldn’t be bad. He’s technically family after all…” Something has him trailing off again, and I wait to see if he continues.

When he doesn’t, I clear my throat. “Eamon?”

“Yeah?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He takes a deep breath and sighs through the phone. “There’s no way for me to make it up to him, and even if there was, I don’t think he’d want me to.”

Heat burns behind my eyes as I bury my face into my knees. My chest aches, and I can’t tell if it’s because Eamon genuinely sounds crushed by the thought of his brother never forgiving him, or if it’s for Ronan, who’s carried so much pain for so long—alone.

“You have always been such an empath, Cal. I can hear you beginning to hyperventilate. Just take a deep breath.” I do as he says and try to breathe slowly. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” I look out at the lake and wet my lips. The sun is beginning to go down, the colors of orange and red bouncing from the water’s surface. It’s then I hear a motorcycle in the distance. “I need to go…”

“I’ll see about giving your number to him, if you want.”

I look over my shoulder, “Yeah… I’d like that. Like a pen pal. Talk with you later.”

“Pen pal… funny… Bye, honey.”

The cabin is empty of contractors, and I can’t believe how long I’ve been sitting out here. I must have disassociated or something, because it hadn’t felt like an entire day.

Ronan comes into view, driving up the driveway, circling around the house before heading straight into the open garage. He doesn’t look this way, but I wouldn’t have expected him to.

Standing, I tuck my phone into my pocket and sprint up the stairs toward the cabin. The door leading into the house shuts just before I’m close enough to call out to him. I’m not even sure what I want to say; I just need him to turn and look at me—that would be enough to steady my heart.

After hitting the garage door button and hearing the metal clinking as it closes, I barrel into the house.

“Ronan?” I look immediately around the living room and don’t see him. My feet move without my direction, carrying me right in front of his room. The door is closed, and I should just leave him alone. Ishouldstep away and let him be.

Instead of doing that, I groan and say, “Ronan, can I come in?”

Silence from the other side, and I place my forehead onto the door. “Please?” Again, nothing but quiet comes as a response.

Fuck this.

I place my hand on the doorknob and turn it slowly. The sound of the shower running as I push the door open brings a sigh of relief. At least he isn’t ignoring me—or well, not yet.

Moving into the room, his clothes scattered across the floor catch my eye. His jeans, then next his shirt, socks; all of it trailing and leading me to the bathroom, the door wide open. Steam is already spilling out of it and into the master bedroom.

Placing my back against the wall beside the doorframe, I say nervously, “Ronan?”

Water cascades in various rhythms, with some drops landing heavily on the tile, while others produce gentle, delicate taps. He doesn’t respond, but I know he can hear me.

“If you don’t say anything I’m coming in.”

I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting. Why would he respond? He’s been dominating and probably doesn’t give a shit that I see him naked. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, he isn’t going to. That’s something I’ve learned about him. He is going to do whatever he wants, no matter what it is.

Or he doesn’t think I’ll follow through. Like I’m not desperate enough for this conversation, andhim,that I’m not willing to do whatever it takes.