How I ended up at Berkley’s door, I don’t know.
Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly why I’m here. I just don’t want to admit it out loud, because then it feels real—like giving weight to a thought that should’ve stayed buried.
Dad caught Ronan and me before he took off for the conference, his usual brand of disappointment dripping from every word. “You boys need to get your shit together,” he snaps, eyes sharp as glass. “You’re almost eighteen. It’s time you start acting like it.” He jabbed a finger into my chest so hard I swear there’s a bruise forming. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” he growls, the words tasting like venom in my ears.
Ronan stood beside me, arms crossed, silent. But even he flinched—just slightly—and that said everything. People always think he’s the unpredictable one, the unhinged one. They’re not wrong... but they’re not right either. He’s not dangerous in the way they think. He’s just intense. Raw. Loyal in ways no one gives him credit for. But that loyalty? It doesn’t extend to our father. Hasn’t in years.
Ronan’s got this sense about people, like he was born without blinders. He sees the rot in others before the rest of ussmell the smoke. And when it’s our dad? He’s always said something was off.
But me? I still get caught in the undertow. I know my dad isn’t a good man—not by a long shot—but he’s still my dad. And there’s this pathetic part of me, some leftover version of the kid I used to be, that still wants him to look at me and not see failure. Still wants to earn his approval, even if I know better.
Tonight, he made it clear—again—that I’m not enough.
Said we weren’t tough. Said he’d be “fixing that” soon. The way he smiled when he said it made my stomach twist.
After that, I asked Ronan to come with me. Figured we could both use some time with Berk. She always knows how to ground us, how to remind us of who we are beneath all the noise.
But he brushed me off.
Shrugged away my hand, gave me a look I couldn’t read, and walked off like the wind caught him and carried him away. He’s been doing that more often lately—drifting. Unpredictable. Restless. I don’t think he’s hurting anyone... not unless they deserve it. But even that’s becoming harder to track.
He’s never talked about it much, but Ronan sees things. Patterns, inconsistencies, hidden truths in plain sight. He has the kind of mind that could either build empires or burn them to the ground. It scares me sometimes—how easily he reads people. How precise he can be when he decides someone’s guilty of sin. No jury, no trial. Just instinct and cold execution.
And I’m starting to wonder what he’s up to when he disappears like that.
But I let him go.
Because tonight, I needed something too. Something warm, real.
Something like Berkley.
So now I’m standing on her porch, hand halfway raised to knock, pulse tapping out a frantic beat in my ears. And before I lose my nerve, I knock.
When she opens the door, wearing a cozy oversized hoodie and that wide-eyed softness that never fails to gut me, I know I made the right call.
“Hey,” I say, voice low.
She doesn’t ask why I’m here.
She just opens the door wider and says, “Come in.”
And I do.
Because wherever she is... that’s home.
Her brows knit with concern as she shuts the door behind me and takes a step closer. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”
I don’t sugarcoat it. Never could with her. “Dad was being a dick. I needed to get away.”
Her expression softens, as it always does when I tell the truth. “Is Reign okay? Ronan?”
“Reign’s out with her boyfriend,” I mutter, stepping closer. “And Ronan... he’s in the wind.”
She bites her lip the moment I say his name. Her eyes flick to her phone like she’s debating something, then without asking, she snatches it up and starts typing. “I’m texting him. He’s probably spiraling.”
“He didn’t come with me,” I add, feeling the sting sharper than I want to admit. “He was pissed. Shut down.”
Her thumbs fly across the screen, then she pauses. “I asked if he’s okay... told him he better text me if he needs anything.”
