RONAN’S POV
The scent of her lingered in the kitchen, light and sweet, as if she’d never really left. It clung to the stool she’d sat on, the air she’d exhaled, the plate she’d eaten from. I told myself it didn’t matter and that it wasn’t affecting me but my hands tightened on the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white.
I should’ve walked away the moment she came in. Should’ve kept my back to her, pretended she wasn’t there like I’ve done before. But i didn’t. I couldn’t ignore the forceful presence at my back no matter how much I wanted to.
Instead, I’d stood there, muscles coiled tight and hyper-aware of every step she took, every soft intake of breath. Even without turning around, I knew her eyes were on me, lingering and tracing the lines of my back the scars she prob
