Page 16 of Heavy

The next result catches my eye: a criminal records site. My pulse quickens as I spot the words in the description. “Ronan Byrne, charged with second-degree murder, sentenced to fifteen years…”

It trails off there and I can’t find the stomach to open the link.

I swallow hard. Maybe I should've listened when he told me to leave. That would’ve been the smart, safe move. But true to every “dumb blonde” label I've ever been given, I stay; I don’t run. I’m not even sure why I’m trying to convince myself that I have a choice in this. I can’t just run to my stepdad, or especially my mother, and ask them for help.

But I’m hooked on the danger, addicted to the thrill of it all. I should be terrified, should be running a thousand miles in the opposite direction. A guy who doesn’t hesitate to choke me, slam me against a wall, push me to my knees, and make me beg—who makes me call himdaddy—I should be terrified.

And yet here I am, wanting more. He should make me feel unsafe, except I don’t.

“You are truly sick, Calista. Just like your mother.”

He’s a killer, and I’m sleeping less than twenty feet from him. All it would take is a single spark of motivation and he could end my life under that sexy grip of his. Dear god, am I thinking about him—

A sharp knock snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts, jolting me away from the mental image of him fucking me while choking me until I’m right on the edge of death. Quickly, I shut my laptop, feeling irrationally exposed, as if my thoughts are splashed across the screen, easy for anyone to read.

And there he is, Ronan, leaning in the doorway with one arm braced against the frame, watching me. The look in his eyes sends a wave of something close to panic through me, as if he can see the guilt smudged across my face—or maybe that’s just my paranoia talking. Either way, my nerves tingle, my pulse racing with that electric thrill that only hits me when I’m startled or caught off guard.

“Next week I need a ride into town.” His eyes flick down to my laptop, and a wave of nausea hits me as if he might stride over, snatch it up, and uncover my dirty little secret. I quickly slide it to the side, tucking it beneath the covers, hoping to hide it from his view.

“S-Sure. I can do that. What day?”

“Not sure.” He sighs, poppingthateyebrow of his. “Any days that are off limits?” The question carries an edge of frustration, and I swallow nervously.

“No. Wait, yes. I will be going to Denver for work on Thursday. Other than that, I don’t have any constraints.”

“I’ll try to coordinate for you to drop me off on your way to the city.” He taps the wall with his hand, glancing around the room before turning to leave without another word.

No “thank you”?

I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Why am I even worried about him saying thank you? He’s a convicted murderer, after all. Manners to him are about as meaningful as an ant’s shit.

Hold the fuck up, did I just agree to take him somewhere? What is wrong with me? Do I have a death wish?!

I need to reevaluate this deal.

“Calista?” His deep voice startles me.

“Shit!” I jerk my gaze up and he looks at me incredulously. “I thought we were done, sorry…”

“Your ass was hanging out of your shorts.” I don’t think I’ve had embarrassment flood over me so quickly before. “Be careful.”

That’s all he says before he stalks away down the hall.

I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.

7

Calista

Thisweekhasbeentrying. Whenever I consider asking about his time in prison, I bite my tongue and never get anything out other than a “how’s your day?”

Ronan has been keeping to himself, which leaves me both relieved and irritated. He’s not just quiet—he’s downright elusive.

One morning before the kitchen renovations began, I woke early, hoping to catch him just as he woke up. I waited for an hour but eventually gave up and headed off to work. Later, I found out he’d slipped out without a word, and when he finally returned after dinner, he acted like he hadn’t been gone all day. I’m not his mother, but I hadn’t even heard him leave. I’d been up before dawn, listening carefully, yet somehow he managed to slip out unnoticed.

Not that I want to keep an eye on him or anything, but I called Johnny to install a security system around the property. I half-expected Ronan to be uneasy about it, but when the installation team arrived, he surprised me. Not only did he speak with them, but he also even suggested spots for cameras I hadn’t thought of.

But soon enough, my mind starts to run, and I question why I’d let him be so involved in the security setup. Now he knows every camera angle and has access to the system. If he wanted to, he could erase footage or disable it entirely.

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