An excruciating beat passes before his eyes cut away and he turns to leave. Not before tossing Ronan a threatening glare, however. That was weird. I cast the thought aside and focus on the problem standing before me.

Ronan lowers himself into a plush armchair, one arm hanging over the back cushion, an ankle resting on the opposite knee. “Who is that?”

Ronan isn’t a fan of football, either.

“My brother’s teammate. He’s staying here because…” And then I remember that I’m not the one who needs to be interrogated. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his longish black hair, his eyes furtively moving over me in the same way any man would check out a random woman wearing a towel. Nothing in that look is familiar. It reminds me that essentially we’re strangers.

This is a man I once thought I loved. It took me a long time to realize it was only vodka goggles coupled with a nasty case of low self-esteem making a dysfunctional situation appear insanely romantic. The bull we tell ourselves to justify being treated like garbage.

Emotional roller coasters are not an indication of how much someone loves you. Real love is steady. It’s supposed to make you feel safe. Not like you’re constantly dangling off a cliff, on a perpetual high from the spike of adrenaline. A love zombie, Dev used to call me back then and she was right. It’s a gross distortion of love. Even worse––it was dangerous.

My hand moves to the top of my towel, gripping it protectively. I’m suddenly feeling at a distinct disadvantage.

“I thought about what you said and decided you’re right so I rented a house for the month.”

“You rented a house?”

“Yes.”

“Here?”

He smirks. “Yes. That way Sam can get to know me better before he comes to California for two weeks.”

That’s actually not a bad idea. Wet towel be damned, I take a seat in the armchair next to the one Ronan occupies and nervously tug at the hem.

“How would this work?” My voice shakes.

“I don’t know. He could spend some weekends with me and weekdays with you until we leave.”

The visceral reaction is a painful one, a stab in the gut. Every weekend? I already miss him and he isn’t even gone yet. On the other hand it makes perfect sense, the slow acclimation that Sam needs. I have to think of Sam and what’s best for him. My feelings don’t factor.

“Okay…okay––Let me go get him and we can discuss it.” This is for the best. It’s going to make sending him off with Ronan in the middle of August a smoother transition, not as unsettling for him. This could actually turn out to be easier than I anticipated.

“I flew in to find a house and talk to you. Maybe we can start next weekend? Skye and I will be gone be for the Fourth of July weekend.”

“Okay.” I slow-nod, still wrapping my brain around what’s happening.

“I don’t fly out till tomorrow night––I was thinking I could take Sam out for lunch tomorrow.”

“That should be fine. Let’s ask him, though.”

Small feet pounding down the stairs tell me Sam is coming down for breakfast. A beat later his Spider-Man pajamas appear. He hits the ground floor and looks up. As soon as he sees Ronan staring back at him, he freezes. Then he turns and runs back up the stairs.

Scratch that. This is not going to be easy.

“Ten more minutes then lights out,” I call out from the threshold of his bedroom door. Sam looks up from the book he’s reading. “Wonder, again?”

He must’ve read that book ten times. The first time we read it together, he was seven. After which he harassed me for an entire year for a big sister. I tried to explain that big sisters come before little brothers otherwise they wouldn’t be big sisters. That’s when he reminded me that in one of my foggier moments I had told him babies come from hospitals and he didn’t understand why I couldn’t just go and pick one up.

My kid doesn’t look happy right now and I’m not sure I can fix it. I walk in and sit on his bed, Roxy on the other side of him. “Are you okay with having lunch with your dad tomorrow?”

The talk turned out to be a bit lopsided. As in, Ronan did all of the talking and Sam ignored him. I sat between them and played translator. Every time Sam refused to answer one of Ronan’s questions, it was my job to make him answer. Let me say this, I would’ve rather had a root canal. In the end, Sam agreed to Ronan’s lunch date, granted under duress.

He shrugs. “I guess.”

Lying down next to him, I raise an arm and he scoots closer. We snuggle and I kiss the top of his head, finger combing the too long chestnut locks of hair falling over his forehead.

Tags: P. Dangelico Hard to Love Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net