THOUGH SHE MIGHT'VE WOKEN up with a smile on her face, the bruises from the night before deepened and spread all across her skin. Tears sprung to her eyes, her earlier joy escaping, as she attempted to move into a sitting position. Despite the dip of her mattress and the softness of her comforter and pillows, her body felt like it rested upon a ton of bricks, all scraping her with every shift she took.
Gwenn whimpered and groaned, frowning at the alarm blaring through her phone. She was meant to go work at the daycare in a few hours. She wanted to drag her hand down the sides of her face, but stopped when the stabbing pain flared so hard she had to freeze in place. She heaved at the state of her body, then sighed as she came to the conclusion that she would have to call out.
That was the last thing she wanted to do to Cathy, but she would not be of use to her when she could barely sit up without crying. In a way, she was doing her a favor, but that didn't mean it didn't come with its set of headaches for her boss.
After a tearful phonecall with Cathy, explaining that she had an accident the night before and was covered in bruises all around and couldn't walk, her boss gave her the rest of the week off to recover. She had even asked if she needed anything in the meantime, but Gwenn only struggled out that she could do on her own.
Sierra and Scarlet had slept over on her couch, and the boys curled up in different corners of her area rug in the living room. When Gwenn dragged herself to the doorway, Milo opened one eye and shot to his feet in a flash.
"What are you doing?" he seethed, jumping over Jake like he was a mere obstacle. "How are you feeling? You look like a hag hobbling in the woods. That doesn't look good."
His eyes trailed down to her bare arms, colored in a gradient of black, blue, and dark purple. He grimaced before looking up to her face.
"It's bad, isn't it?" she asked quietly. Milo didn't have to nod for her to know the answer. She looked like she had been severely beaten, but all Wolf had done was squeeze her arms and slam her against the statue stand. She mentally slapped herself. Wolf had harmed her. "Can you help me to the kitchen?"
Milo wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her waist. He was not like Jake-tall and muscular-but he had a decent lean build, and when he picked her up, it was like she weighed nothing for him.
He placed her on a stool before strolling into her kitchen like he owned it. She almost laughed as he threw the fridge open and signaled it as he peered at her. "What do you want?"
Her lips quirked. "Milo Rivera, you're one interesting man."
He dipped his head in a mock bow. "I'll accept that as flattery, though your tone says otherwise."
She snorted, and then asked for cereal and milk. He frowned at her decision, but soon they conversed at the counter eating their breakfasts while updating each other on their life. Still no girlfriend on his end (though he complained he could never find one) and he was making good progress on his business degree. She confessed about Ronan enough for him to know that the guy in tattoos existed, but steered clear of their deal. She also did not touch the subject on Wolf.
By the time the others woke up, they had finished their breakfast and were beyond restless.
Her friends left not long after, Scarlet and Sierra promising to come back later to check up on her. Gwenn waved them off from her place on the bed. They didn't need to worry so much about her, especially when they had their own life to take care of.
The day was slow and painful. The minutes ticked off as if they fought against the thickest honey, a sludge preventing them from going any faster. Her eyes opened and closed between intervals, staying put in her position staring out of her window at the sun. Even when her stomach growled for food, she remained frozen.
When the sun lowered on the horizon, an insistent series of knocks echoed through her apartment. A jolt got her out of bed, whimpering as she grabbed onto the doorknob. She imagined her mother on the other side of the door, gasping at her disheveled appearance, then going into hysterics over what had happened to her.
She did not need that splitting headache on top of everything.
But despite her fears, she pulled open the door to find Ronan on the other side.
His icy eyes roamed over her figure, and his jaw dropped at the sight of her.
"Honey, what happened to you?" He surged forward, not even waiting for her to invite him in. He knew he could be inside.
He hovered over her, fingers tracing her elbows as he studied the bruises on her biceps. The soft touch was a large contrast to what she had endured the night before, and she welcomed it, closing her eyes to savor it.
"Honey?"
Gwenn shook her head. "Just an accident. After you left, things took quite a turn." She tried for a breezy tone, but she faltered, looking down at her linoleum floors.
He set his jaw, staring down at her with a power to command an entire legion. His muscles tensed as he zeroed in on the shapes of her bruises. "Who grabbed you?" he whispered. Even the still, quiet tone evoked enough danger to make thousands tremble.
She swallowed, not daring to look him in the eye. "I really don't want to talk about it."
Ronan hooked a finger under her chin, twisting her to stare into her eyes as if wanting to uncover all the secrets she had been burying from him. Like he were sifting through to find what went down the moment he stepped out of her apartment. Her vision grew blurry, and she hadn't realized she was crying again until he cupped her face in his hands and wiped away at her tears.
"Mom told me you were hurt," he said. "I didn't think...I couldn't have imagined."
"Wait until you see my back," she mumbled. Sierra had taken a picture of her bare skin after her late night bath, and she had winced even more at the scratches and bruises splotched all over her spine. The statue's nameplate and stand had done quite some damage paired with Wolf's brute strength.
His eyes flashed when she trembled as she lifted up the loose sweater, turning to show a glimpse of her injuries.
"Gwenn, seriously, who did this?" Ronan kneeled, pushing her sweater further up. His fingers grazed her skin, and she shivered, suppressing a whimper. "Give me a name, please."
The way he said it, she almost slipped it out. His voice dropped into a mere whisper again, laced with the most threatening promises. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from saying Wolf into the stillness between them. When she looked down at him, clutching at the chunky fabric like he wanted to rip it apart to see what else was done to her, her chest warmed, and she managed a smile despite how uncomfortable she was after the ordeal.
"I'm staying tonight," he said, interrupting her thoughts. His words asked for no argument. "I'll take care of you, and if whoever did that comes back-"
"He won't," she cut in.
His eyes narrowed. "I'm staying, at least until I know you're safely asleep. And when I get that name, I will hunt his sorry ass down." He didn't let her say anything else, pushing down her sweater to cover her marred back and standing up.
Flutters filled her stomach and heart until she couldn't breathe without leaning her shoulders against the wall. She grew lightheaded, and a goofy smile threatened to burst forth. Having Ronan be there for her, protecting her, sent thrills down her body.
"Fine, but you're helping me get back to my room."
When she was back in the comfort of her bed, she turned to Ronan, making himself comfortable on her armchair on the other side of the room. He studied her room, never actually been in there, before looking over at her, a pensive look falling over his face.
"What?" she asked.
"Your room," he started. "Your apartment, really, is just you. Everything screams your name. It's nice."
She looked around her room, trying to see what he meant. Her color palette remained soft and light, a combination of white, beige, and the occasional brown pops. Though she had moved in only months before, her desk was littered with tiny trinkets she kept on collecting whenever she went out: a little wooden globe, a swan figurine, a brass-framed mirror, and a brown mug filled with assorted pens.
"We all have our ways of expressing ourselves, I guess," she said, mostly because she didn't know what else to offer to the conversation. She turned to him, lounging so comfortably, and smiled at his drumming fingers over the armrests. "Like you have your tattoos. I have way too much decor to last a lifetime."
"You've always been fascinated by my tattoos, haven't you?" Ronan grinned. She fought hard to keep her blush in check.
"Only because you have so many," she defended herself. "I don't know anyone our age that can afford all that ink."
He hung his head, hiding a smile. "I didn't pay for them. I had a friend that aspired to be a tattoo artist, and I offered to be his practice canvas, basically." She blinked, tilting her head. That answer only gave her more questions. But she particularly zeroed in on the use of past tense. "Timothy Haycraft. Friends since we were in diapers. He was my neighbor. He knew how to do mad tats." He flexed his fingers to look at all the art stretching over his skin, curling and running between each knuckle.
"Where is he now?" she asked.
He dropped his hands to his lap. "He passed."
She furrowed her brows. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"I actually helped him out like I'm helping you." Ronan shook his head. A cold slither ran down her chest. "I found his long lost older brother, but come to find out that he was killed in a drug deal gone wrong. Timmy was never the same after that."
A heaviness settled on her shoulders, so she shifted to bury herself deeper into her pillows and comforter. "That's terrible, Ronan."
He shrugged. "That's why I'm always a little scared when someone asks to find a person for them. Sometimes the end result isn't what you've envisioned." He grimaced, scratching at the back of his neck. She didn't miss the way his hands shook as he dropped them.
"I get it," she said. "You never really know what's out there." A myriad of different outcomes flashed in her mind's eye, swirling around like a timed slideshow. Most were unpleasant, but she couldn't help lingering on the good end results-the fairy tale ever after of finding the woman who birthed her and knowing where she came from. "I understand some not wanting to even try, but I can't not get those answers. It'll drive me insane if I don't know, so I can't wait for that road trip we're taking in December."
Ronan flinched, but the jerk of a reaction faded in a flash. She almost thought she had imagined it until his face transformed into a grimace. She wanted to ask what was wrong when he leaned forward, resting his elbows over his thighs. "That reminds me, we have to actually finish this semester before we could even do anything. School has been drowning me in more work."
Gwenn chuckled at the reminder of their college student status. Normally, she was always on top of her schoolwork and academic standing, but after the night she had, she did not want to worry about anything concerning the semester ending. She wanted to recover before attempting to open her laptop to destroy her fingers while writing an obscene amount of words before finals week.
"Oh, I also have to make that last study packet for you to do," she voiced, thinking back to all the new lessons on personality disorders they had. She would have to group all the new disorders they had learned and the different approaches to treatment. "That's going to be a thick packet," she said, scrunching up her face in thought.
In response, Ronan groaned. "At least I know I'll pass."