"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...
Gwenn snorted, tightening her arm around Ronan's. "You're not dying. It's just my parents."
She pretended not to notice the side glance he threw her as they crossed the busy street. A car honked behind them, and they scurried towards the sidewalk. Hales Bay's Main Street bustled as ever, filled with high schoolers from Winter Bay High, and a few stragglers from college back in Lockfell like they were. The day promised a nice heat with clear skies, even if the people liked to pretend they were in a winter wonderland, with lights still draped from ceilings and doorframes, and wrapped around palm trees all the way to the top.
"This is why I'm already dressed for my funeral," Ronan muttered under his breath as they neared the restaurant. Her mother had insisted on the lunch meeting after Christmas Day, pestering her about getting to meet her new boyfriend. Her father followed suit, teasing up a storm whenever he found an opening.
"Ronan, you always wear black," Gwenn retorted. He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth to gnaw on it. She squeezed his hand in reassurance. "Relax, I'm going to be right next to you all the time. Besides, my parents aren't going to bite."
That didn't calm him in the slightest. Instead, his shoulders tensed further. "I bet your mother even knows my blood type. Maybe she'll even tell me my social security number right off the top of her head."
Gwenn rolled her eyes. "Do you think my mom works in the mafia or something that she can dig all of this information up?"
"I don't know with you Davidsons." He shook his head, muttering more under his breath.
She couldn't help the smile stretching on her lips. It's not like it was a new facet of him she was witnessing, but something about Ronan King, a tall, heavily tattooed, and incredibly intimidating man, being a complete wreck of nerves made her want to pull him into her chest and run her fingers through his dark hair until he stopped shaking. She didn't think he'd resort to that level of anxiety over meeting her parents. He was much more cool and collected when they broke into a facility to find classified information.
The restaurant came into view. She tightened her hand on Ronan's again, and could feel his pulse jump and race like he were running a marathon. The modern look mixed with a familiar air reminded Gwenn of all the times she was dragged to that very spot to eat with her parents on various occasions growing up. Now she would be the one that brought the special occasion to the spot, with an anxious Ronan by her side.
"What if they don't like me?" he asked. It was almost hard to believe that was the same man that had threatened another for being crude to her.
"It doesn't matter because I like you," Gwenn reminded him, coming to a stop in front of him. He stopped, taking in a huge gulp of air.
"They're your parents," he said after a moment. "It does matter. I'm the complete opposite of what concerned parents want for their daughter."
Gwenn tilted her head to the side, examining him from head to toe. Sure, he had the all-black outfit as always, the tattoos peeking from his sleeves and hanging from his fingers, and those eyes that could kill you like being crushed by glaciers. But his muscles were tense, his cheek sucked into his mouth and she assumed he was chewing on it, and he couldn't stand still, shifting his weight side to side.
"Well..." she started, sliding both her hands up his chest. "Are you going to mistreat me?"
That got an immediate frown from him. "Of course I'm not."
"Are you gonna kill me?"
"What-?"
"Cut me up into little pieces and throw me into a river?"
He grabbed onto her waist with a firm grip. "If I even see so much as a scratch on you that I caused, I'll throw myself into a river."
Gwenn grinned, cupping his face. "Then you have nothing to worry about." She pressed her body against his and pulled him down to meet her lips. He obliged, desperate to be anchored by her in the middle of broad daylight.
When they separated, his fingers continued tapping the smallest of patterns onto her waist, his feet still shifting under him. She stared up at those wide, blue eyes.
"Don't worry, Ronan," she said, threading her fingers with his as she stepped back. He visibly unclenched his muscles as if melting in her hands. "Just shine like you always do."
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