Page 32 of Ronan

We have time to kill before we get to our destination. I shift my hand to place my palm to hers and lace our fingers together. Warmth spreads through my hand and up my arm.

There is no doubt this woman is working her way under my skin. However, I still have so much to learn about her. There’s so much I want her to trust me enough to share with me on her own.

“What do ya like to do when ya’re not writing?”

“What do I like to do when I’m not writing? Um … let me think. That’s a loaded question.”

“Not really, love. Just tell me what ya like.”

“I have a few ventures outside of writing that are time consuming. To be honest, I need a new assistant when I get back. Someone to keep track of my personal trainer, my massages, and my deadlines,” she muses.

“So ya don’t have random things ya do just to decompress?”

“Not like I used to.”

“Why is that?”

“I … I lost my uncle. When he was alive, I spent most of my free time with him. He taught me everything I know. Because of him, I’m nearly fearless.

“Ach, nearly?”

“I might have one or two fears I haven’t overcome just yet.”

“What are they? Maybe I can help.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Rule number one: Never speak your fears out loud. You never know who’s listening.”

I grin as I remember Freddie once saying the same thing in front of me. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the old man. I kept busy after hearing of his death.

“Anyway, it’s just … he was everything to me. He took me all over the world with him. I miss him and our deep conversations. Life made so much sense when he was around.”

“I’m sorry for yer loss.”

“It’s okay. I’m dealing with my grief my own way. It’s all good.”

“Aye, grief is a bitch of its own kind,” I say and rub at my chest.

I’ve been wearing mine for twenty-some years whether I’ve acknowledged it or not. I guess the family business has been where I’ve chosen to deal with it. Dean and I are a lot more alike than I thought.

“How long ago did you lose him?” I ask as I clear my throat.

I know when her uncle died, but she’s talking, and I want to keep it that way. I can hear the fondness in her voice for Freddie. He was the type of man you held in high regard.

Ruthless, but honest and wise. In the short time I got to know him, I had some of the deepest conversations of my life. He often kept me from making bad decisions.

I learned to mind my temper from him—something we McGowans aren’t known for. I can’t help wondering if that’s something Dean was able to glean from him. I come out of my thoughts as she begins to speak again.

“It’s been, what? About four or five years now. It seems more like yesterday.

“It was so sudden and unexpected. The man would run with me every morning. He was as fit as any man half his age.

“It just never made sense to me. I couldn’t remain in New York after his passing. I moved to PA to keep from losing my shit. I just?—”

She cuts off and turns to look out the window. I can feel her shutting down. That was a lot more than I thought I would get, so I let it go.

I fall deep into my own thoughts. I like Dean. She’s bright, gorgeous, and I like her sense of humor. However, I don’t believe I’m what she needs. I’m just as fucked up as she is.

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