Chapter 4
1156 Words
Sienna Cross
I should not be noticing his legs.
This is the first thought I have as I slide into the passenger seat of Ronan Vale’s car, carefully settling Oliver’s carrier in the back like my life isn’t quietly spiraling.
Not the fact that my car just died.
Not the fact that I’m now completely dependent on a man I barely know.
No.
It’s the legs.
Because apparently, my brain has decided that now is the perfect time to betray me.
“Seatbelt,” Ronan says, already pulling out onto the road like this is just another normal night for him.
Like he doesn’t look like a walking identity crisis.
“Right,” I murmur, snapping it into place and very deliberately keeping my eyes forward.
Not down.
Definitely not down.
Silence settles for a moment.
Not uncomfortable… just unfamiliar.
I sneak a glance at him.
Big mistake.
Because he’s focused on the road, one hand on the wheel, jaw slightly tense, hair falling just a little over his forehead—and somehow, despite the outfit, he still looks…
Attractive.
Annoyingly so.
It doesn’t make sense.
It shouldn’t make sense.
And yet—
“You can laugh,” he says suddenly, not even looking at me.
I blink. “What?”
His mouth twitches. “You’ve been holding it in for the last five minutes. It’s painful to watch.”
I press my lips together.
Fail.
A small laugh escapes.
“I’m not laughing,” I lie.
“Liar.”
That makes it worse.
I shake my head, covering my mouth for a second. “I’m trying to be polite.”
“Don’t,” he says dryly. “It’s already a lost cause.”
I glance at him again, this time letting myself actually look.
The tiny blue shorts.
The striped shirt.
The ridiculous—
“Oh my God, the hat,” I whisper.
He groans immediately. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t even notice it before.”
“That’s because you were distracted by the trauma of everything else.”
I laugh again, softer this time.
“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it now. “I really am.”
“Don’t be,” he mutters. “Direct your sympathy toward me. I’m the victim here.”
“That’s debatable.”
“It’s not,” he shoots back. “This is a carefully orchestrated attack on my dignity.”
“Do you have dignity?”
He turns his head just enough to give me a look.
“…I’m reconsidering helping you.”
I smile despite myself, shaking my head.
“Too late. You already committed.”
“Tragic.”
But there’s no real annoyance in his voice.
Just… ease.
And that surprises me more than anything.
Because I expected this to be awkward.
Tense.
Uncomfortable.
Instead, it feels…
Simple.
I shift slightly in my seat, glancing back to check on Oliver. He’s quiet now, eyes half-closed, tiny hand curled near his face.
“Is he okay?” Ronan asks, his tone changing—softer, quieter.
I look back at him, a little caught off guard.
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s good. Just tired.”
He nods once, eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror.
“He didn’t cry much.”
“No,” I admit. “He’s… pretty calm most of the time.”
“Must take after you.”
I let out a small breath of a laugh. “That’s generous.”
“It’s accurate.”
I glance at him again, but this time it’s different.
Because he’s not joking.
Not teasing.
Just… saying it.
And for some reason, that lands deeper than it should.
I look away first.
“Where are we going?” I ask, changing the subject quickly.
“My place,” he says. “Closer than yours. You can stay there while we figure out the car situation.”
I stiffen slightly.
“Oh—you don’t have to—”
“I know,” he says, cutting me off gently this time. “But it makes more sense.”
He pauses.
Then adds, quieter—
“And it’s safer than waiting around.”
That shuts down my argument.
Because he’s right.
And I hate that he’s right.
“…Okay,” I say after a second.
The rest of the drive is quieter.
Not awkward.
Just… thoughtful.
Too many things running through my head at once.
This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.
I was supposed to drop off some things, maybe help Lucy for a bit, go home, write a few pages, sleep.
Simple.
Controlled.
Safe.
Instead, I’m in a car with Ronan Vale, heading to his apartment, trying not to think about how easily he stepped in when I needed help.
Trying not to think about how fast he came.
Trying not to think about how that makes me feel.
We pull into a parking garage a few minutes later.
He parks smoothly, killing the engine before turning slightly toward me.
“I’ll grab him,” he says, already unbuckling.
“You don’t have to—”
“Sienna.”
Something in his tone makes me pause.
Not sharp.
Not forceful.
Just… certain.
“I’ve got it,” he says.
And I believe him.
I nod slowly, watching as he steps out of the car and moves around to the back.
I follow a second later, hugging my arms around myself as the cooler night air hits.
He’s already lifting the carrier carefully, movements surprisingly gentle for someone who spends most of his time slamming into people on ice.
Oliver stirs slightly.
Ronan freezes.
Actually freezes.
I bite back a smile.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re not going to break him.”
“I know,” he mutters. “That doesn’t mean I want to test the theory.”
That does it.
I laugh softly, walking beside him as we head toward the building.
“You’re doing fine.”
“High praise.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
We step into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet ding.
For a moment, it’s just us.
Close.
Too close.
I become very aware of everything.
The quiet.
The space.
Him.
He glances down at me.
I look up at the same time.
And for a second—
Something shifts.
Not big.
Not obvious.
Just…
There.
Then the elevator dings again.
And it’s gone.
He clears his throat, stepping out first.
“This way.”
I follow him down the hallway, my thoughts a little too loud in my head.
Because this—
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
None of it was.
And yet…
Here I am.
Walking into Ronan Vale’s life like it’s nothing.
Like it won’t change everything.
______________________
ICEWIRE // LIVE DROP
Timestamp: 9:26 PM
Funny how quickly lines blur.
One moment it’s a ride.
The next… you’re already inside.
Careful who you let in.
#IceWire #WolvesExposed
- Writer
