“You should go,” I whisper again. Him being here feels too good, and I refuse to let myself get used to it. It won’t be long before they move me out of here, and any special treatment I’ve been offered will be a distant memory. Including his comfort.
“Is this about Ryker?” He growls the name like it’s personally offended him.
A wave of guilt washes over me, making my chest ache for the man I allowed past the walls I’ve spent a decade building.
Guilt for leaving him, even if it wasn’t my choice.
Guilt for letting him touch me.
And most of all, guilt for forcing Ronan to watch as he fucked me.
It seems so stupid now. My anger toward the first man I ever loved. The need to hurt him the same way he hurt me when in reality I always knew he wasn’t involved. He didn’t even know.
He spent the last ten years thinking I ran off with his baby without even considering how he would feel.
I push my aching body up and slide out from under his arm. The loss is immediate, but it’s for the best. I sit with my back against the cool bricks and meet his hurt eyes.
“Why would this have anything to do with him?” I whisper, hoping the pain radiating through my chest can’t be heard in my voice.
Pain for Ronan.
Pain for Ryker.
And pain for myself. For the girl that used to believe in love and happily ever after.
I miss her more than I ever allow myself to admit.
He shoves himself to his feet, and I get my first glance at his bare chest. He was wearing a shirt earlier when he fed me a few bites of soup, but he must have taken it off after I fell asleep.
Unlike his brother, his body is almost completely free of ink. Except for the space right over his heart where a bird in vivid color catches my eye.
A sparrow.
He thought I left him with our child.
He thought I ran away to start a new life without him.
And yet he still had me tattooed on his chest, right over the organ that keeps his blood pumping.
My hand covers my mouth as a rough sob escapes.
This is doing nothing for my attempts to distance myself from him.
Catching where my gaze is locked, he curses under his breath and tugs his shirt on.
“Because I assume if you’re letting him fuck you, you guys are together.”
“We’re not,” I murmur. “Together, that is. We…I…” I can’t find the words to tell him that until Ryker came along, I hadn’t let anyone else touch me since I left Florida.
Hurt slices across his features, his usually vibrant green eyes turning dark. “So that little show was just to hurt me?” he growls. “As if all the other pain you’ve caused me wasn’t enough?”
The guilt swirling inside my chest morphs into something else entirely.
Pure fucking rage fills my veins, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m on my feet with my arms crossed over my chest.
At some point over the last couple of days, Ronan changed me into one of his oversized shirts, which admittedly makes me look even less intimidating than normal.
“All the other pain I causedyou?” I snap. “Are you fucking kidding me, Ronan? Your father and brothertorturedme for days. They killed my parents in front of me. And they were perfectly fucking willing to kill me, even knowing I was pregnant with your child. The pain you and your family have caused me, both physically and emotionally, far outweighs me fucking another guy.” I glance around at the cell I’m being kept in. “And if you want to talk about knee-jerk reactions to being hurt, how about we talk about the fact I’m here…again. You helped Damon bring me back here, to my fucking death.”
