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I nod to him, wrenching the door open and striding through it. Suddenly, I can’t wait to be home to have Fiona in my arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
FIONA
Liam arrived about an hour ago, but he refuses to say anything about anything at all. He’s less than no help. Shawna and I huddle over on the sofa while Liam lounges in the kitchen, drinking coffee and messing around on his phone.
He’s probably onTinderagain. Honestly. Does nothing phase him? Or distract him from trying to bed every woman in Boston?
The deadbolt slides open, and Liam’s phone disappears instantly. His gun appearing. Shawna and I cringe down on the sofa. Ronan appears in the doorway, and Liam’s gun immediately disappears, his phone again in his hand.
Ronan’s eyes dart over to me, drinking me in. Then they land on Shawna. He crosses to us and holds out his hand to help Shawna stand up.
“Ye’re safe now, lass. Ye go home, and we’ll see ye at the club for yer next shift.”
Shawna’s gaze darts over to me, but Ronan speaks again, drawing her attention back to him. “Liam will drive ye home, lass.”
Shawna nods, dashing around him, her purse clutched in her hand as Liam waits at the door.
Once they disappear and the door swings closed behind them, Ronan’s eyes land back on my face, drinking it in. He strides around the sofa, tugging me so I’m standing in front of him.
His strong arms encircle me, holding me against his chest, and his heart beats steadily beneath my ear. Ronan’s fingers tangle through my hair as he gently tips my head back until I look up into his steel-grey eyes.
“He’s dead,leannán,” Ronan says softly. “He can never hurt ye again.”
My head tips forward, my forehead pressing against Ronan’s chest as my whole body sags against him, relief flooding me. I don’t feel guilty, sad, or any other things I previously worried I might feel at this moment.
I feel… relieved. It’s finally over. I can live my life like I’ve never been able to before. I don’t have to spend my whole life looking over my shoulder, keeping one eye open for Grant.
Ronan lifts me gently, sitting on the sofa and cradling me in his lap, my head resting against his chest as he strokes my hair, his lips brushing against my forehead. He doesn’t speak, but eventually, I do.
“I’ve spent my whole life waiting for the next time he hurt me,” I say in a small voice, Ronan’s arms tightening around me. “After growing up like that, with everyone taking his side….”
I take a deep breath. “I didn’t know how to trust anyone. That’s why I pushed you away.”
Ronan sighs against my hairline.
“I don’t blame ye,leannán,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over my skin as he speaks, raising goosebumps everywhere. “I’m only glad ye trusted me in the end.”
“I do,” I choke out through the sobs threatening to burst out of my throat. “I do trust you.”
“I know ye do,” Ronan assures me, still talking softly and gently like he’s afraid to spook me by making loud noises or sudden movements. “I love ye, Fiona.”
He presses kisses along my hairline as I snuggle into his chest.
The first sob breaks free, and it’s like it bursts the dam wall because the next thing I know, Ronan has carried me into bed, tucking me up and cuddling in next to me. His large, warm, comforting body is wrapped around me. Keeping me safe as I sob out twenty-two years' worth of pent-up pain.
RONAN
Fiona stops crying sometime around midnight. She insists on showering on her own, standing under the water until it runs cold before climbing back into bed.
I hate that she wants to be alone. I had to watch her cry for half the night. I want to be in there with her. To distract myself while she’s in the bathroom, I take the opportunity to text Niall, setting my plans in motion. He texts back a .gif of a cow rolling its eyes. The man is as anti-social over text as he is in person. I have no idea how Mellie puts up with him.
When the bathroom door cracks open, and Fiona appears, dressed in nothing but a towel, I drop my phone onto the nightstand, my eyes drinking in the beautiful sight before me. She shuts off the light, creeping into the walk-in robe and emerging clad in one of my T-shirts. Finally, she slides into the bed and my waiting arms.
“Does it bother you that I don’t wear lingerie?” she asks softly. I blink as I glance sharply over at her.
“I prefer ye in nothing,leannán. So no, it doesn’t bother me that ye don’t wear lingerie.”
