Ronan is gone.
And the hollow place in my chest feels bigger than ever.
But beneath the ache, beneath the fear, something stubborn flickers to life.
I’m not running anymore.
Not from Travis.
Not from Ronan.
Not from myself.
I walk to the window and watch the last of the daylight bleed out of the sky.
I breathe in.
I breathe out.
This breath feels like the beginning of something; it doesn’t feel like surrender.
Chapter ten
Ronan
The storm hits like it’s been waiting all day to unleash. By evening, the sky has turned the color of wet slate, and the wind howls through the pines with enough force to make the cabin groan. I’m standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing the coffee mug from earlier, when the lights flicker once, twice, then die. Darkness settles fast and complete. Outside, the trees thrash like they’re trying to pull free of the earth.
I set the mug down carefully in the sink. The quiet that follows the outage feels heavier than usual, with only the wind and the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. My phone screen glows when I check it: no bars. Service always drops in these storms. I’m cut off from the world except for what’s right here.
And right now, what’s right here is the knowledge that Isla’s alone up on the bluff in that drafty cottage with Travis somewhere in town.
The thought settles low in my gut, cold and sharp. I told myself this morning I’d keep my distance. I told myself last night wasthe last time I’d let myself close enough to hurt her. But the idea of her sitting in the dark, jumping at every creak of the house, every gust against the windows, thinking he might come back, makes my chest hurt.
I grab the flashlight from the drawer, check the batteries, then pull on my jacket. The keys are already in my hand before I’ve fully decided to go. Protective instinct, I tell myself. Nothing more. Declan would’ve done the same.
The truck starts on the first try. Rain lashes the windshield as I ease down the gravel road, headlights cutting pale tunnels through the downpour. The wipers slap back and forth in a steady rhythm. Branches scrape the roof like fingers. I keep the speed low since the roads are slick and visibility is near zero, and the drive feels endless.
When I reach the turnoff to the bluff, the cottage comes into view: dark windows, no porch light, just the faint outline of the roof against the storm sky. No car in the drive except hers. No sign of Travis’s rental sedan. Relief flickers, then dies. He could be anywhere. Waiting. Watching.
I park close to the porch, kill the engine, and sit for a second listening to the rain hammer the cab. Then I grab the flashlight, step out into the deluge, and jog up the steps.
I knock hard, three solid raps, then call her name so she knows it’s me.
“Isla. It’s Ronan.”
Silence stretches. Then footsteps cross the floor inside. The lock clicks. The door opens a crack, chain still on.
Her face appears in the narrow gap, pale in the beam of my flashlight. Eyes wide. Hair is loose and tangled. “Ronan?” Her voice trembles just enough to twist something in my chest.
“Yeah. Power’s out. Came to check on you.”
She hesitates, then slides the chain free and pulls the door wider. “Come in. It’s freezing out there.”
I step inside, dripping on the threshold. She closes the door behind me, locks it again—twice. The cottage smells like cedar and candle wax; a single taper flickers on the kitchen table, throwing long shadows across the walls.
“You okay?” I ask.
She wraps her arms around herself. “I’m… fine. Just dark. And the wind keeps rattling everything. I keep thinking—” She stops, swallows. “I keep thinking he’s out there.”
