"Just shine like you always do."
Gwenn Davidson has always known she was adopted, but after clearing up her stuff for her first move out of her parent's house, she finds an old blanket gifted to her by her birth mother that triggers an avalanche of...
LOCKFELL LOOKED THE SAME when they crossed the town lines the next day. Gwenn tapped at the door handle in anticipation as Ronan turned on her street, her apartment complex looming over them. It was the first time since she had moved that she almost threw herself over the pavement on her knees and screamed that she was home.
And yet she had to leave in the next few hours if she were to find her mother at the Christmas gala in Hales Bay.
The truck came to a stop by the entrance. A middle-aged woman frowned at them before hurrying along with her golden retriever down the sidewalk. The sun was shining bright, the day glittering like she were watching through the finest camera lens. Everything looked crisp, like a painting waiting to crumble to reveal the true, deteriorating reality.
Gwenn sighed and started gathering her belongings-her duffle bag, purse, and her dress. If only she could've gone to her apartment to sleep until the next day, or maybe even go for a walk like that lady with her dog. Instead, her vanity awaited with all of her makeup products and hair heating tools.
"Wait-" Ronan grabbed her arm when she reached for the door, then quickly let go. "What are you...What are you gonna do about Wolf?"
She slouched against the seat, welcoming the burning heat against the back of her neck. "I don't know. He'll probably be there tonight."
He watched her, eyes way too bright behind those black strands of hair that were too stubborn to stay back. "You are gonna cut him off from your life, right?"
"I've been wanting him out of it since he blackmailed me," she said, and another wave of tears threatened to overcome her. Wolf had cemented himself into her life without so much as a nod of approval. He took control and didn't bother to ask if she was okay with it. He knew she wouldn't be, and didn't care. "He only keeps coming back stronger. I don't know what'll happen tonight." She tightened her fingers around her bags, hoping the action stopped the trembling coursing through her hands. Wolf was not the type of man to anger, and she had learned that the hard way.
Something told her Ronan suspected the truth about that night. His eyes trained on hers for a second before dipping to her arms covered by her oversized cardigan. Had they been bare, he would've been able to see the faint remains of Wolf's fingers imprinted on her skin.
"If he hurts you again..." Ronan trailed off, his gaze coming back up from her arms to her face.
"Don't worry, Ronan," she cut him off. "I'll be at a high profile event surrounded by people. I doubt he'll do anything in front of everyone." The thought gave her pause, and a slight relief that Wolf couldn't even try to hurt her like he had in Lockfell Park. There were too many witnesses. He would dig his grave deeper if he even tried to lay a hand on her.
Unless he took her somewhere private.
"Please stay away from him," he whispered, turning in his seat to face her properly. "I don't want him to hurt you again."
"If it were up to me, I wouldn't see him again in my life," Gwenn told him, pulling her bags closer to her chest in preparation. "It's him who keeps coming back to me."
When she reached out for the door, Ronan stopped her again. His touch was urgent, grasping onto her arm as if she were a life raft and he were drowning. She paused, looking down at his hand so beautifully covered in ink.
"Are we...done?" he struggled out.
It took her a minute to comprehend the words. They had struck a deal at the beginning of the semester-she tutors him, he finds her biological mother-and they had completed both their parts. Winter break was in full swing. Ronan passed abnormal psychology and she found out that her biological mother was dead.
But there was too much left unfinished. There was so much to discuss. He had lied to her, and she had lied to him. And yet, there was no hate in his eyes when he looked at her, just sorrow and a hint of hope. She might've been the same.
The bags rustled in her grasp, the cardboard box scraping right under her knee, jolting her back to reality. Ronan and her had lots to discuss, but she had a gala to go to, and too much information to sift and sort through in her mind. She tightened her grip around the bags again.
"We did what we set out to do," Gwenn said, not daring to look into those eyes she grew to love. "I guess we're done."
Ronan let go of her arm. This time when she reached for the door, he didn't stop her. She slid off the truck and landed with a small huff, struggling to keep her bags in her hold. With her free hand, she slammed the door shut, the noise reverberating in her head and thrumming deep in her chest. She dared to look up at the glass window, where she had leaned on the night before and Ronan had wrapped her in his warm embrace, keeping her safe from all the hurt. He held her gaze from the other side, the connection intensifying with every second, but she turned away.
She was home, walking farther from the groaning engine of the truck, but each step echoed like hollowed taps that mirrored her emptying heart. The sputter of the truck revved down the street, and she had to stick her feet on the pavement to stop herself from turning back. Her chest ached and her eyes stung, but she couldn't bring herself to go back to those icy lakes surrounded by the warmest of fires.
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