Page 58 of Save Me
But Ronan shakes his head, holding his right hand out in front of him to inspect his reddened knuckles.
“You hit him hard.”
“I did.”
“And hereallydeserved it?”
Ronan’s teeth clench. “Hereallydid.”
“So … I take it you’re no longer a director for the Wolf?”
“The fuck if I know. Yeah, probably. Assaulting the boss is definitely grounds. Whatever. It’s for the best. I wasn’t cut out for this.” But I sense no relief in his voice when he admits that. I think he liked his role, even if he claims he has no idea how to do it.
What does that mean, though, for Ronan staying in Mermaid Beach? Will he go back to Miami? To Indianapolis?
He can’t leave.
Just the idea of Ronan gone ignites panic in me.
“I have an opening,” I blurt, thinking out loud. “For atiki captain. Or, as Douchebag Preston insists, a skipper. I mean, it’s nothing like your job now.” Or his job up until five minutes ago.
Ronan’s hard mask finally cracks. “I might have to take you up on that. I’ve got a lot to figure out. I’ll need to return my car and find a new place to live.” He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Connor’ll probably have to move out too. Fuck, he’s gonna kill me.”
“I have an empty trailer you guys could stay in.” The one Dave and Ted were supposed to be in.
“A trailer next to the hotel.” He chuckles. “Man, this is getting better by the minute.”
“What? It’s comfortable! I’m mildly offended.”
“No, I’m sure it is. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.” He leads me down a narrow hallway. It’s a different direction than we came in, but it lets us out in the parking lot and to his car quickly.
Holding my door open for me to climb in, Ronan sets the dessert plate on my lap.
I admire his body as he rounds the car, his stride even and calm, despite his heavy mood.
The drive to my house is short but quiet, Ronan swerving to avoid an especially deep pothole.
“I need to get that filled.” Frank raked the ground twice this year, but we need more gravel.
“Don’t bother,” Ronan mutters.
“What?” I frown. “Why not?”
He hesitates. “No reason. I don’t know why I said that. My head’s just not here.”
The parking area is jammed tonight, with cars infront of each trailer, plus Mick’s pickup next to my Cherokee.
Ronan pulls up in the only spot on the other side. “What’s going on here?”
“Just staff out by the fire pit. We do it every night.” And it looks like everyone’s here. “We can sit out there, if you want?”
He smooths his palms over the steering wheel. “I think I’m peopled out tonight.”
Ronan might be peopled out, but I’m not ready to say good night to him yet. “We should get some ice on that.” I nod toward the angry bruise on his knuckle.
He tests his hand by opening and closing it. “It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
“You punch a lot of people?”
