I still remembered the day Ronan had shown up with the squirming bundle of brown and black fur. It had been the first time I’d seen him since I’d received word of Trace’s death two months earlier. The news had been devastating but even more so since I’d had to endure it by myself. My grandmother had come to live with me after my parents’ deaths and Trace’s return to the army, but within weeks of her arrival, I’d known that her mental health had started a rapid decline that took more and more of her from me each day. So when the Army Chaplain and representative had shown up to tell me Trace had died in a training exercise, my grandmother hadn’t understood who the men were and why they were there. I’d ended up settling her in front of the television and turned on the sports channel which, for some inexplicable reason, was the only thing that kept her occupied for any length of time. And then I’d had to listen as the men made their speech about how valued Trace’s service to our country had been. I hadn’t cared about any of that, of course. All I’d cared about was trying to figure out how I’d gone from having a near perfect life with parents who’d loved me and a brother I’d idolized, to being an orphan at the age of fourteen.
And then Ronan had shown up. He’d never explained why he hadn’t come sooner or why he hadn’t been the one to tell me about Trace and I hadn’t asked. I’d been too happy to see him to even care. He hadn’t hated me back then because the first thing I’d done when I’d opened the door and had seen him standing there, was wrap my arms around him and cry for a good ten minutes. The puppy had been squashed between us and it had spent the whole time licking my face as Ronan had held me and told me everything was going to be okay.
And for a few years, everythinghadbeen okay. Because despitethe challenges of trying to deal with all the things that had happened, as well as my grandmother’s ailing health, I’d had the prospect of Ronan’s visits to look forward to. And although his visits weren’t regular or often, just knowing he was there if I needed him was enough to keep me going.
Until he wasn’t.
I still remembered the day I’d gambled everything…and lost.
I hadn’t planned on kissing Ronan…yes, I’d dreamed of doing it, but I hadn’t planned it. But when he’d wrapped his arms around me and said goodbye and that he’d be back soon, I’d felt his cheek brush mine as he began pulling away from me and a need unlike any I’d ever known had taken over me and I’d turned my head just enough to brush my lips over his. He’d frozen in place as I’d covered his entire mouth with mine and when I’d pulled back, I’d felt his fingers press into my back where he was holding me. I’d been sure it was a sign that he wanted me, had liked what I’d done, but then he’d slowly dropped his arms and stepped away from me. And the second I’d seen the look in his eyes, I’d known I’d fucked up.
He hadn’t been angry, hadn’t asked me why I’d done it or insisted it couldn’t happen again. In fact, he hadn’t said anything at all. He’d just looked at me like he didn’t know me and then he’d turned and walked out the door and I’d never heard from him again.
Until today.
Bullet’s wet tongue brought me back to the present and I shook my head as I gave him a pat. Footsteps in the hallway had me pushing the hundred-pound dog off me and I hurriedly climbed to my feet and went to the sink to wash my hands and run a towel over my face. I didn’t look at Ronan as he entered the kitchen, but I could hear Bullet’s nails clicking on the tile floor as he greeted the other man.
I focused on the tomato I’d been cutting up before Bullet had distracted me, but it took all my effort not to acknowledge Ronan as he came up behind me.
“Can I help?”
I swallowed hard because I wanted so badly to lean back against the big body I could sense behind me.
“Um, yeah. Do you want to finish making the salad?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I was proud of myself for schooling my reaction as I turned to hand him the knife. Gone was the sharp looking suit and in its place was a pair of jeans that lovingly hugged his thick thighs, and a black T-shirt that stretched over his biceps and pectoral muscles. It had been years since I’d seen Ronan so casually dressed and I hadn’t realized how much he’d bulked up since Trace’s death. He’d always been fit but now he just looked…dangerous.
I gave Ronan the knife and thanked God it was a big kitchen because I needed to get as far away from him as I could before I did yet another stupid thing like touch him again. I went to the freezer and pulled out some chicken breasts and began the process of defrosting them.
“What are you making?” Ronan asked as he worked.
“Chicken Cacciatore.”
“Hmmm. my favorite,” Ronan murmured.
I stilled and then realized I’d started making the meal without any thought to that fact. It had been Trace’s favorite too, but I knew that wasn’t what had been in my subconscious as I’d begun gathering the ingredients. An insane, overwhelming need to escape rushed through me and I turned to look at Ronan.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t have him here and pretend everything was okay, that we were back to where we’d been before I’d kissed him three years ago. I was finally getting my life together but having Ronan around only to lose him again would destroy me. I knew it in my gut. Ronan’s back was to me as he worked and I opened my mouth to tell him that he needed to leave but then I saw him reach up to get a strainer out of the cabinet above the sink. The fact that he knew that’s where my mom kept it was telling, but even though it looked like Ronan belonged here, I knew better.
“Ronan…”
“Just a sec,” he said as he stretched to reach the strainer, his T-shirt riding up.
And then I saw the gun tucked in the waistband of his pants.
“Yeah,” Ronan said as he turned to face me.
I can’t do this.
Four easy words that would free me from this man.
“Do you want something to drink?”
I kept calling myself a fool and a coward as I went to the fridge to get the soda Ronan asked for and then I began pulling the rest of the ingredients for dinner together. Ronan and I worked in silence and an hour later, we were sitting across the kitchen table from one another eating the same way. It wasn’t until about half way through the meal that I finally found the courage to ask one of the many questions that had been bouncing around my head from the moment I’d suspected Ronan was watching me from the dense woods behind my house.
“He asked you to watch out for me, didn’t he?” I murmured between bites, not daring to look up as I spoke. “Trace…he asked you to check on me before he died. That’s why you’ve been watching me.”
