Chapter 7
1260 Words
Ronan Vale
There’s a baby in my bedroom.
I stand in my kitchen, staring at absolutely nothing, trying to process that very simple, very insane fact.
A baby.
In my bed.
In my flat.
Breathing my air.
Existing.
This feels like a life event I should’ve been consulted on.
“Right,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face. “Don’t panic.”
I’m not panicking.
I’m just… aware.
Deeply.
Uncomfortably.
Aware.
Behind me, I hear Sienna move back into the living room. Soft steps. Careful. Like she’s trying not to disturb the silence.
Or me.
Which—no.
We’re not doing that.
I turn around before she can hover awkwardly for too long.
She pauses when she sees me looking.
There’s a moment.
Then she clears her throat. “He’s asleep.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I gathered that from the lack of screaming.”
Her lips twitch.
Small.
But it’s there.
Good.
We’re back to normal.
Or whatever passes for normal in this situation.
I push off the counter and grab two bottles of water from the fridge, handing one to her.
“Drink,” I say. “You look like you’ve had a day.”
She takes it, fingers brushing mine again.
There’s that thing.
Again.
Quick.
Annoying.
Noticeable.
“I’ve had a day,” she agrees, twisting the cap open. “That’s one way to put it.”
I lean back against the counter, watching her take a sip.
She looks… calmer now.
Still tired.
Still a little tense.
But not like she’s about to bolt out the door at any second.
Progress.
“So,” I say. “You want to tell me what happened before the car tried to kill you?”
She huffs out a quiet laugh. “It didn’t try to kill me.”
“Debatable. Smoke is never a good sign.”
“Fair.”
She shifts her weight slightly, like she’s deciding how much to say.
“I was coming from Lucy’s place,” she explains. “Helping her with some stuff for the event tonight.”
“Ah,” I nod. “The event I’m currently missing.”
Her eyes flick down—probably remembering the outfit.
I see it.
The almost-smile.
“Tragic,” she says.
“Devastating,” I agree. “I had high hopes for my public debut in tiny shorts.”
That does it.
She laughs again—properly this time.
And yeah.
I like that sound more than I should.
“Honestly,” she says, shaking her head, “I think you would’ve stolen the show.”
“Oh, I would’ve,” I say confidently. “For all the wrong reasons.”
“Still counts.”
“Not for me.”
She takes another sip of water, studying me over the rim of the bottle.
“You didn’t have to come get me,” she says after a second.
There it is again.
That line.
I sigh quietly, dropping my head back for a second before looking at her again.
“We’ve been over this.”
“I know,” she says. “But still.”
“You needed help.”
“You barely know me.”
“And?” I push off the counter, stepping a little closer without really thinking about it. “That’s not exactly a dealbreaker.”
Her breath catches slightly.
Subtle.
But I notice.
Of course I notice.
“That’s not how most people think,” she says quietly.
“Most people are idiots.”
That earns me a look.
Half surprised.
Half amused.
“Bold statement.”
“Accurate statement.”
She shakes her head, but there’s something softer in her expression now.
Something less guarded.
And I—
Yeah.
I should probably not pay attention to that.
“Besides,” I add, tone lighter now, “I couldn’t exactly leave you stranded. Caleb would’ve killed me.”
That shifts the mood instantly.
Her expression tightens just a fraction.
“Right,” she says.
Ah.
Brilliant, Vale.
Well done.
I rub the back of my neck. “Not that that’s the only reason.”
Her eyes flick back to mine.
There’s a beat.
“Good,” she says softly.
And that?
That lands.
Harder than it should.
Before I can say something equally stupid in response, a small sound comes from the hallway.
We both freeze.
Listen.
Silence.
Then—
A soft, sleepy baby noise.
Sienna moves immediately.
No hesitation.
No thought.
Just instinct.
She’s already halfway down the hall before I even push off the counter.
I follow anyway.
Because apparently, that’s what I do now.
Hover.
In my own flat.
Over a baby.
Fantastic.
We step into the bedroom quietly.
Oliver is shifting slightly, tiny hands moving, face scrunching like he’s deciding whether or not he wants to wake up fully.
Sienna reaches him first, gently brushing a hand over his chest.
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
And just like that—
He settles.
No crying.
No chaos.
Just… calm.
I stand there for a second.
Watching.
Again.
Because I can’t seem to stop doing that.
It’s the way she moves.
The way she knows exactly what to do.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Like this is her world.
And I’m just…
Visiting.
“You don’t have to stay,” she says quietly, not looking at me.
I blink.
“What?”
“You don’t have to—hover,” she adds, a hint of a smile in her voice. “I’ve got him.”
Right.
Of course she does.
Still—
“I know,” I say. “I just—”
I stop.
Because I don’t actually have a good reason.
I just… don’t want to leave.
Which is—
Yeah.
Not getting into that.
She glances back at me now.
Really looks at me.
And something in her expression shifts again.
Softer.
Warmer.
Like she’s starting to understand something.
Which is dangerous.
Very dangerous.
“You can go,” she says gently.
I nod once.
Slowly.
“Yeah. Right.”
But I don’t move immediately.
Neither does she.
And for a second—
We’re just standing there.
In the doorway.
Too close.
Too aware.
Too—
Everything.
“Ronan,” she says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
There it is again.
That simple.
Honest.
Dangerous word.
I hold her gaze for a second.
Then shrug, like it doesn’t matter.
Like it doesn’t hit.
“Don’t make it a thing,” I say.
She smiles slightly.
“Too late.”
Yeah.
That’s what I was afraid of.
I step back finally, forcing my legs to cooperate.
“Get some rest,” I say, nodding toward the bed. “I’ll be out here if you need anything.”
She nods.
“Okay.”
I turn.
Walk out.
Close the door halfway behind me.
And then I just stand there.
In the hallway.
Staring at nothing.
Because something is happening.
Something I didn’t plan.
Didn’t expect.
And definitely don’t have control over.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair.
“This is fine,” I mutter.
It is not fine.
Not even a little.
Because there’s a girl in my bedroom.
A baby in my bed.
And a feeling in my chest that I don’t recognize.
One that’s quiet.
Steady.
And far more dangerous than anything that’s happened on the ice.
“Yeah,” I say to myself, pushing off the wall and heading back to the living room. “This is going to be a problem.”
- Writer
