Yet the black cloud hovering over me had barely shifted and the gremlins in my brain continued to remind me he'd soon loseinterest and move on to the next pretty young thing. But I had to give him something, or he'd continue to pick away at my scabs until I bled.
"I can't shoot."
"Shoot?" He scratched his head in confusion. "Why would you need to shoot anything?"
"Conal insisted I need to learn how to shoot, so he took me to the range and gave me a lesson. I was terrible." I yanked the covers up. The room had cooled, and I didn't enjoy being naked now that I wasn't in the throes of an orgasm.
"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard," Ronan scoffed. "It's our job to protect you!"
I thought the same, but I figured Declan planned to send me away with a gun and a prayer. They were probably all sick of having me around.
"Anyway, I was useless, so it was a waste of time." I hunkered down under the comforter and closed my eyes. Despite sleeping for a couple of hours, I could barely summon the energy to move. Everything ached, especially my shoulder from tensing each time I had to pull the stupid trigger.
"You're not useless, pixie." Ronan crawled into bed and pulled me into his arms. Coarse denim scratched my skin, but I didn't mind. His body warmed me and after a few moments, I relaxed and snuggled into the curve of his shoulder.
"Not what Conal said." OK, so he hadn't saidthose exact words, but he'd definitelythoughtit each time I failed to hit the target.
"Pixie, Conal couldn't hit anything for months when Pa first gave us guns as kids. Pa made him get his eyes tested and then had a meltdown when the optician said Conal had 20/20 vision."
I snorted into Ronan's tee.
"He can hit things just fine now, but it took a lot of practice." My brain threw up an image from the crash. Of blood and brain-matter exploding everywhere. The sound of a gunshot blasting through the car. I'd be dead if he hadn't shot that man with pin-point accuracy.
"Breaking holds and punching someone in the nuts without breaking your hand are useful skills, but I see no point in you learning how to shoot, Pixie. Now let's get you dressed. You need to eat something. I can feel your ribs."
"I'm not a dog, Ronan. And I'm also not skinny."
He kissed the top of my head. "No, Pixie, you're perfect."
For a moment, I allowed his words to sink in, warming me from the inside. The rational side of my brain reminded me he was full of shit and this was the kind of nonsense he told all the women he fucked, but it didn't stop me from enjoying how it made me feel.
Special.
Adored.
Wanted.
Conal walked into the kitchen just as Ronal slid a plate of food in front of me. Mrs. O'Mara had left a chicken and gravy pie for us to help ourselves to, along with some mashed potato, green beans, and a jug of thick gravy.
The scent of meat and pastry made my stomach growl loudly, but Conal's frown at the sight of Ronan's hand on my shoulder soon killed any appetite I had.
He barely looked at his twin. I watched as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.
"Whose idea was it to teach Pixie how to shoot?" Ronan asked in a deceptively calm voice.
Conal looked up. "Mine. Why?"
Ronan slammed his fist down on the pine table, causing my water to slosh everywhere.
"Because it's a stupid fucking idea! She has us, you moron!"
"She doesn't have us," Conal replied without sparing me a glance. The words hit me like a dagger to the heart. A reminder of my outsider status. I wasn't family. The guys protected their sisters and Eden without a second thought. But not me. Once I left here, I was on my own.
"We can't be with her 24/7," he continued. "I figured if she had a small gun and knew how to use it, it might save her life one day."
Ronan's hand on my shoulder squeezed hard enough to cause me pain, but I stayed quiet as my slice of pie cooled on the plate. The tension in the room grew so thick I almost choked on it.
"She has me. If you don't want to be a part of this, that's up to you, but Pixie is mine. And I protect what's mine."
