Page 82 of Heavy

It was my fault for going into the house.

I’m so embarrassed.

I want to hide away.

I never want to see anyone ever again.

I’m sorry.I failed myself…

26

Ronan

Romance.Unfortunately,Ineverhad the chance to experience it, or practice giving it.

Calista deserves that, but the moment her hands dipped in that paint and onto me, she threw that shit out the window. The only thing I’m good at taking care of is myself.

As I began to leave her on the couch to shower, she literallycoughedat me to bring my attention back to her.

After promising she’d keep her hands between her legs, she told me to carry her to the bathroom. I’ll be very honest, the last woman I slept with before going back to prison, I put her clothes into her hands and pushed her out the front door for asking to stay with me.

Sex has always been what it is. It means nothing but a release of tension. Both men and women equal the same thing to me, with the same outcome, and same amount of feelings attached: none.

That is, of course, not the case with this blonde baby girl now drying her hair with a towel in front of me.

I’m closed off, and normally I would be telling her to go into the second bathroom to do her beauty routine. However, there is a larger part that’s intrigued to see how she keeps her skin so nice. She fascinates me, but not like a student-teacher sort of thing. It’s more like she’s my rat and I’ve got her in my lab, ready to poke and prod to learn what I need to do to satisfy her.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” She stares at me through the mirror, those citrus green eyes settled behind siren lids. Ken wasn’t wrong. She isn’t my type and if I had seen her in a crowd I wouldn’t have looked twice. As beautiful as she is, it’s her stubbornness and self-control that draws me so damn strongly to her.

I should preface that hewasright. Past tense. Now, she’s myonlytype.

“Depends,” I respond, stepping out of the shower after turning the water off.

“On?”

“If you answer mine as well.” I grab hold of the towel folded beside her, gazing down at her ass before starting to dry myself off.

“Easy ones first.”

I hum. “I don’t think any question either of us have for one another will be classified as easy, baby girl.”

That innocent, gentle laugh of hers pops between her lips and I roll my eyes. Fuck she’s so adorable.

“We can try. First, why do you call me baby girl?”

Alright, that’s pretty easy. “You have a baby face, and you’re a girl.” Through the mirror, her mouth drops open, and I shrug my shoulders. “What?” She just keeps staring at me. “I was going to call you doll, but I don’t want to think of you as a soft object, and that’s what I associate a doll with.”

“Barbies are hard…” she mumbles.

“The boys can call you Barbie, you’re my baby girl. Were you hoping for something sweeter and more loving?”

She tears her eyes away from me and leans in toward the mirror, using the bristles on some stick to brush through her eyelashes. It isn’t mascara, because it didn’t come from a tube.

“It’s fine…” I don’t think it is, but I’m not going to coddle her on this. It’s a nickname, what else is it meant to be? I sure as shit am not going to call her a fucking color. “Go ahead and ask me a question.”

“Where’d you get the scar on your calf?” Easy enough question… or so I thought.

“That’s a complicated answer, another one.”