Page 82 of Illusive
Feeling Blizzard’s soft fur against her bare feet and hearing his loud purring, Ireland pushed the horror of being globally famous as a victim into a dark corner of her mind. “What does that mean? How did he handle it?”
Her father’s expression sobered. “You haven’t been watching the news?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Why do I have to watch the television to know what’s happening in my own life?”
“That’s a fair point, sweetheart.” He sighed heavily. “It would be better for us to get together as a family and talk everything through.”
“Sounds like a blast,” she muttered drily. Ireland was coming to realize that while she and her family had lived through the same event, each of them had experienced it very differently.
With a small smile, Chris chucked her softly beneath the chin. “There’s my little spark plug. I’m so damn happy you’re home safe. How are you feeling?”
“Tired, achy, a little stoned,” she said, repeating herself because it was easiest and covered the basics. “I’ll probably take a nap later.”
He crouched to give Bliz a good rub behind the ears. “Eva was on her way over when I got there. She’ll be by a little later, so you and I can have some time alone.”
“You want a cup of coffee? I could certainly use one.”
Standing, he told her, “Let me take care of it.”
They walked to the kitchen together, his gaze roaming as he took in her open living area.
“You’ve got a lot of friends,” he noted, eyeing the dozens of bouquets arranged in groupings on nearly every flat surface.
She kept her expression and tone light. “They’re all from Ronan, Dad.”
The tempo of his steps faltered as he glanced at her, but then he continued into the kitchen. With his back to her and his attention on pulling two mugs from the cupboard, he said, “You were just on the phone with him, too.”
“I was, yes.”
“You really like him.”
“I do. I struggle with it because of what he’s done and how you two feel about each other, but… He’s really good to me. I like how I feel when I’m with him.”
Chris loaded the single-serve coffee machine and put a mug beneath the spout. He activated the brewing, then turned to the refrigerator. Pulling it open, he paused before grabbing her favorite creamer. “You’ve got enough food in here to feed our entire family.”
“Ronan stocked the kitchen.” She slid carefully onto one of the barstools at the island.
As the coffeemaker began to hiss and gurgle, her father turned to face her. “He must spend a lot of time here.”
Blizzard jumped up onto the stool next to her to reach the counter, then strolled across the island to gain Chris’s attention.
“Recently, yes,” she admitted. “He looked after Bliz—and my laundry and groceries—while I was…gone.”
With his attention on petting her cat, her father said, “He must be planning on spending a lot more time here if he’s stocking this much food.”
The pads of her fingers rubbed restlessly across the countertop. “He actually has something of an eating disorder after growing up not knowing when his next meal would be. You might’ve noticed he’s lost weight since you first saw him. He says he can eat when he and I are together, but he otherwise struggles to when he’s away from home.”
Chris looked up and caught her gaze, giving her a cynical smile. “The Boudreauxes are one of the wealthiest families in theSouth, Ireland. Getting enough to eat would never be a problem for them.”
“They didn’t find Ronan until later in life. Before that, he grew up in what sounds like extreme poverty.”
Her father just stared at her for a long minute. Then his eyes closed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “They found him and weaponized him.”
“What do you mean?” When he didn’t answer right away, Ireland exhaled harshly. “Dad, you have to tell me what happened. You said you knew someone who looked like Ronan. Was it his father, Lucas?”
Chris turned to pull the steaming mug out from under the spout. He then repeated the coffee-making process with the other mug. Just as the machine’s workings began to make noise and she was about to lose her temper, he said, “I’ll tell you what I can.”
“Really?! That’s good, Dad! I know if we could just talk it through, we could smooth things out. He’s only heard one side of the story and?—”
