“Ronan’s used to keeping things locked down. If he recognized Max’s killer like you said he did and didn’t tell you, it’s probably for a reason.”
“Because he doesn’t trust me.”
“I doubt that, Ciara. If anything, I think Ronan is just trying to protect you.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel like protection. It feels like I’m being kept in the dark.”
Stephen’s eyes soften as he glances at me. “I know.”
I shrug, my throat too thick with tears to say anything else.
But Stephen doesn’t push it.
I slide off the counter and take a seat at the island, reaching for the bag of marshmallows to snack on while he finishes making my cocoa.
He sets the steaming mug down in front of me. “My kids like to add their own marshmallows. Apparently, I’m too stingy with them.”
Just then, Stephen’s phone vibrates against the countertop, the screen lighting up with his wife’s name. He glances at it, and something in his face changes. His jaw clenches, and he quickly hits the side button to silence it.
“Everything okay?” I add a handful of marshmallows to my mug.
He pauses for a second too long. “Yeah. Tamara just worries when it gets late.”
I watch him more closely now, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the way he’s refusing to meet my eyes.
“You can call her back, you know? Ronan’s not here to reprimand you for taking a personal call on the job, and I certainly won’t tell him.”
I expect the offer to get me a smile in return or at least a nod of thanks, but Stephen only shakes his head.
“Not right now.” His tone is sharp.
The silence that follows isn’t the comfortable kind we sometimes fall into. Something flickers across his face as he looks down at his phone. Guilt, maybe? Or frustration? It’s hard to tell. Stephen gives very little away, which makes him almost impossible to read.
“Do you think I’m wrong to be angry with Ronan?” I’m desperate to break the awkward silence.
He raises an eyebrow.
I grip my mug tighter, the heat sending a shiver down my spine. “For not telling me what he knows.”
Stephen exhales through his nose as he braces his hands on the edge of the island. “You’re not wrong to be angry, Ciara. But Ronan’s not thinking straight.”
“Because of the footage?”
“Because he’s scared. Because everything he’s built is starting to fall apart. You’re perhaps the only thing that isn’t causing chaos for him right now, and that might scare him the most.”
“You think I scare him?”
He smiles faintly, but there’s sadness in it. “In the sense that you’re the one person he can’t afford to lose. That kind of fear makes people do stupid things.”
Stephen isn’t looking at me, his gaze fixed on the window as he loses himself in his thoughts. His dark brows are furrowed, and it’s clear something is on his mind, but I don’t push him to talk.
Instead, I sip my cocoa, letting his words sink in until the anger I’ve been clinging to feels more fragile.
“Don’t take Ronan’s silence personally, Ciara,” Stephen eventually says. “This is just how he works.”
“It feels personal.”
“I know.”
