Chapter Sixteen - Secrets Shared
1057 Words
Evelyn found Jules in the lounge late that afternoon, curled up on the deep leather sofa with a book she wasn’t really reading. The golden light of the setting sun slanted through the window, painting everything in warm tones—perfect for confidences.
Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, clutching a mug of untouched chamomile tea. Jules looked up with a teasing smile.
“Hey, stranger,” she said, patting the cushion beside her. “Come sit.”
Evelyn sat, hugging the mug to her chest. She inhaled its gentle scent and tried to steady her racing heart.
“I… I need to talk,” she admitted, voice low.
Jules closed her book. “That’s what I’m here for. Spill.”
Evelyn took a shaky breath. “It’s—well, it’s Ronan.”
Jules’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”
Evelyn set the mug on the side table and wrung her hands in her lap. “I can’t stop thinking about him. I catch myself wondering what he’s doing, if he’s all right, if he ever thinks about me.” She glanced away. “It’s like… I’m always waiting for him.”
Jules’s expression softened. “That’s called caring, babe.”
“I know,” Evelyn whispered. “But it’s more than that. My mind… it wanders to him in ways I’ve never felt.” She swallowed.
“Sometimes I imagine him here, close, and I feel… something I don’t have words for.”
Jules leaned forward, gentle but direct. “Sounds like you’re falling.”
Evelyn’s cheeks flushed. “Am I crazy?”
“Not at all.” Jules tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re human. You’ve never had someone see you like he does. And now you—” she tapped Evelyn’s hand—“see him too.”
Evelyn nodded, tears glimmering. “But what if I’m moving too fast? He’s… he’s Ronan. The president. He’s—”
“Vulnerable, when it comes to you,” Jules finished. “Yeah, he is. But he’s also the man who chose to protect you, who’s held back because he respects your pace. He’d rather wait a lifetime than rush you.”
Evelyn looked up, searching Jules’s eyes. “You really think he means it?”
Jules smiled warmly. “I know it. Trust yourself—and trust him. Talk to him, if you’re ready. Let him know how you feel.”
Evelyn’s heart thundered. “I’m scared.”
“Good,” Jules said softly. “It means it matters. But don’t let fear keep you from something real.”
Evelyn drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. She felt the weight in her chest shift—lighter, hopeful.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Jules squeezed her shoulder. “Anytime. Now go on—go find him. I’ll hold the couch hostage until you’re back.”
Evelyn stood, gathering her courage. For the first time, she realized she had both the right and the strength to follow her heart.
And with that, she left the lounge—and every doubt—behind.
Evelyn’s feet carried her before her mind could catch up.
She left the lounge, hands trembling, heart pounding, her breath shallow in her chest—but she didn’t stop.
She was done hiding.
She crossed the compound, her eyes scanning familiar corners, nerves sharp but her decision steady. Every step felt too loud, like the world might stop her at any second and demand she turn around. But no one came. No one questioned her.
She reached the garage.
He was there.
Ronan stood near the workbench, wiping his hands with a rag, sweat clinging to his forearms. A faded black tee stretched across his shoulders, his hair damp and a little wild. He looked like a storm barely held in place.
And when he turned and saw her—he stilled completely.
The rag slipped from his hand.
“Evelyn.”
Her name came out low. Surprised. Careful.
She didn’t speak right away. She couldn’t.
So she walked.
Across the floor, step by step, until she stood in front of him. Close enough to see the subtle change in his eyes. The flicker of tension. Of heat. And of control he was clinging to.
“I needed to see you,” she said softly.
He straightened slightly, unsure. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I just… I needed to tell you something.”
His gaze searched her face like he was afraid to breathe too deeply.
She lifted her eyes to his, voice barely more than a whisper. “You make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. You make me feel safe… and also completely out of control.”
He tensed—subtle, but she saw it.
“I’ve never done this before,” she admitted. “Never let anyone in. Never trusted a man to look at me and see more than something to use or ignore. But you… you see me. And I want you to know that I see you, too.”
His jaw flexed.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she added quickly. “But I’m here. I’m willing to try. I just… needed you to know that.”
A beat of silence.
Then another.
And just when her nerves started to catch up with her, when she began to shift back on her heels—
He reached out.
Slowly. Purposefully.
One hand lifted to her face, knuckles brushing her cheek with reverence.
“You have no idea,” he said roughly, “how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”
Her breath caught.
“You’re not rushing anything,” he continued. “You’re moving exactly how you should. And I’ll match your pace—every damn step.”
He leaned in just slightly, his forehead brushing hers.
“I’ve held back because you deserve every second of care I’ve got in me. But if you’re ready, Evelyn…” His voice dropped to something deeper, something cracked open. “I’m here. No holding back.”
Evelyn’s hand moved on instinct, rising to rest lightly against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Real.
Just like him.
And with every ounce of bravery she’d built inside her, she whispered back:
“I’m ready.”
- Writer
