“He took advantage of you,” I corrected.
Seth shook his head. “Why did you come back, Ronan?”
“I didn’t leave, Seth,” I said. “I ran some errands today,” I hedged, not wanting to admit I’d been following him. “I left my stuff in the guest room.”
A raw, ugly chuckle found its way out of Seth’s throat. I could tell he was close to losing it.
“You go when I need you to stay and you stay when I tell you to go.” Seth shifted and swung his legs over the side of the lounger but didn’t get up. “You won’t let me touch you but you won’t stop touching me. You want answers but you won’t give them.”
Seth rose as he said, “I can’t figure out what’s more fucked up – wishing you’d stop seeing me as Trace’s little brother or being terrified that you already have.”
I let Seth go because how could I tell him that the only thing fucked up about this whole thing was me?
Chapter 8
Seth
After leavingRonan on the patio, I’d hidden myself away in my room like a child. Between Barry’s assault and Ronan’s reappearance, I was mentally and physically drained. I hadn’t bothered telling Ronan to leave again because it was clear to me now that Ronan was going to do whatever Ronan wanted to do. Just like I wasn’t strong enough to fend off Barry, I wasn’t strong enough to force Ronan out of my life.
For what was likely the hundredth time since I’d crawled between the cool, crisp sheets of my bed, I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost two in the morning but I had yet to find any momentary peace through sleep. My only consolation was that tomorrow was Saturday so I didn’t have to deal with the stress of having to endure the endless hordes of people and cars as I made my way to the office. Not that I really had to deal with those things on a daily basis – they just seemed that way to me after years of self-imposed isolation.
I hadn’t really even realized how bad my fear of the outside world had gotten until after my grandmother died and I’d decided to enroll in college to pursue a degree in business so I would be wellequipped to take over my father’s company. After I’d gotten out of the hospital following the home invasion, it hadn’t made much sense to return to my high school since there were only a few months left in the school year. So I’d gotten home schooled instead and ended up sticking with it when I realized the added benefits.
The ability to set the pace at which I learned ended up being the perfect distraction, especially after I learned of Trace’s death. Every hour I wasn’t caring for my grandmother or sleeping, I spent studying. I’d ended up getting my GED early and began taking college courses online just to challenge myself. But it wasn’t until I’d lost the connection with Ronan that my loneliness had started to consume me. Attending college had been the logical choice and I’d been excited about the prospect of finally interacting with kids my own age. I’d even envisioned meeting someone who might finally take away some of the sting of losing Ronan.
My first day had been utter hell. The noise, the crowds…I hadn’t been prepared for any of it. And it wasn’t until I’d managed to make my way back to the Whidbey Island house that night that I’d realized how little I’d left the house in the years since I’d lost my parents. My grandmother had set up regular grocery deliveries shortly after her arrival and I’d never thought to change them even after she died. I bought all the things I needed like clothes and books online. The only time I ventured out was for doctor appointments and even those had been few and far between. But I’d attributed the anxiety I’d experienced to my overall fear of doctors after my lengthy hospital stay and not the fact that I had to leave the safety of the house to go to the doctor’s office.
I tried going back to school the next day, but I’d only made it as far as the parking lot and then I’d had the chauffeur I’d hired to shuttle me back and forth take me back home. By day three, I’d been convinced it was all in my head and I just needed to work through the newness of it all. But all it had taken was for a big guy bumping into me as he passed me in the hallway of the building where my first class was held, and I’d had a full-blown panic attack. I’d managed to avoid a trip to the hospital after I told theparamedics that had been called that I was declining treatment and that was it. I didn’t venture out of the house again for almost three years.
Another glance at the clock showed that less than five minutes had passed and I debated whether or not I should head down to the kitchen to search out some food since I’d skipped dinner so I wouldn’t have to deal with Ronan. I almost laughed because I’d actually managed to make myself even more of a prisoner in my own house than I’d already been.
I decided against the snack run and flipped myself over so that I could stare out the glass doors that led out to my balcony. But within a couple seconds, I felt Bullet pressing his nose against my back. I turned over and patted the bed in invitation, but instead of jumping up, Bullet sat down and dropped his head on the edge of the bed. I let my fingers trail over the soft fur on his head but then he jerked away, his ears snapping up as something caught his attention. A shot of terror went through me as I was instantly transported to the night I’d been woken up by a stranger’s gloved hand pressing down on my mouth, but I managed to recover when Bullet merely whined and then looked back at me expectantly. If there’d been any danger, Bullet would have taken off towards it.
As Bullet cocked his head, I sat up and listened for whatever the dog was hearing. And then I heard it. Moaning.
Coming next door from Ronan’s room.
I waited quietly to see if the moaning would stop but it grew louder and I finally swung my legs over the bed and left the room. Ronan’s door was slightly open so I could hear that in addition to moaning, he was talking.
“Ronan,” I called as I pushed the door open.
Bullet brushed past me and trotted up to Ronan’s bed.
“Trace,” Ronan whispered. “Please stay with me, Trace.”
I swallowed hard at the sound of my brother’s name, but Ronan’s broken voice kept me moving forward. I carefully turned on the light next to Ronan’s bed, but didn’t touch him despite wanting to. I’d learned my lesson long ago when I’d tried waking Trace from a nightmare when he’d been home between deployments.I’d been lucky that all he’d done was punch me in the chest but my parents had had to take me to the hospital to make sure he hadn’t broken anything. Trace had been wracked with guilt and had warned me over and over again not to touch a soldier while he was having a nightmare, since the reaction could be lethal.
Ronan’s brow was dotted with sweat and the blanket was bunched around the lower part of his body. His fists were clenched and I could see that his face was drawn up in agony. But what really had my attention were the dozens of jagged scars that covered his chest. I knew instantly what they were because they looked like mine. But they weren’t like the penetrating stab wounds along my chest and side. No, they were shallower, longer – designed to inflict pain, not death.
The knowledge that Ronan had been tortured in the same way I’d been distracted me and it was actually Bullet who woke Ronan up by putting his paws on the bed and licking Ronan’s face. Fortunately, Ronan didn’t strike out at the dog but he did jerk upright. His panicked eyes settled on me and then slowly cleared as he looked around the room.
“You were having a nightmare,” I managed to say, though my eyes were still on his chest.
“Sorry,” he muttered before dropping his legs over the side of the bed and resting his head in his hands, the blanket draped over his lower body.
“Ronan, your chest-”
“Go back to bed, Seth.”
