thing that Ronan needed right now was for some grumpy old cat to be foisted on him.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said seriously. “You gave me a heart attack.”
“Your sister gave you a heart attack. I told her not to call you.”
“Why?”
“Because…” It was a rare moment when he saw how vulnerable his grandmother was under her tough, life-worn exterior. None of them were too good with showing their emotions—all too proud and too self-protecting. But he could see it now: the fear. The concern. The dread. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me.”
“Gram.” He squeezed her hand. “I love my job…but it’s just a job.”
“No, it’s not just a job. You said so yourself when we had dinner. Your work is who you are, because what else do you have?”
The comment struck him in his chest, like an arrow flying out of nowhere and piercing his skin. She was right. Work was the entirety of his life. Beyond it, he had no real relationships outside his family, no close connections, no hobbies. Any spare moment he had when he wasn’t teaching or working on his research was spent reading, which was really more work disguised as relaxation.
The only time he’d done something different was when he was with Audrey. He felt like a different person with her—someone who had a fuller, more well-rounded life.
“I have my family.” He flattened his lips. “That means whenever you need me, I’m here.”
Ronan felt another presence in the room, like they were being watched. If it was Keira, she would have rushed in, and if it was a nurse, then they wouldn’t be waiting for a tender moment to be over, no matter how rare. A prickling sensation crawled down Ronan’s spine. Awareness, tension. He felt his muscles bunch, and then a familiar scent hit him—sandalwood and patchouli. It twisted in his gut. He didn’t even need to turn around to know who was standing there.
“Mom.” He uttered the word almost as if it was a curse.
If Merrin Walsh heard him, she didn’t respond. Ronan looked up, and, no matter how much he prepared himself to face her, seeing her was no less uncomfortable than being grabbed by the throat. She hadn’t changed much—a few more gray hairs, giving her mousy brown halo of frizz a distinct silvery sheen. But her blue-gray eyes—his eyes—were unchanged. She still wore the same shapeless artist smock in rumpled linen over flowing pants. She still wore necklaces layered around her neck and a single chunky resin bangle on one arm. She still had that aloof, gauzy air about her, like an impenetrable bubble of her own making, keeping the world out and her dreams in.
And she still smelled the same.
“Orna.” Merrin had always called her mother by her first name, as though wanting to distance herself from the label she did everything in her power not to embody. “Are you okay?”
Ronan got up from the bed and took a step back, jamming his hands into his pockets. He watched the awkward interaction between his mother and grandmother—a stilted peck on the cheek, neither sure where to put their hands.
His mother glanced furtively over to him. “Hi, Ro.”
Ronan’s nostrils flared, and he gave a curt nod but found there was a boulder sitting on his chest that prevented him from speaking. So, it took multiple hospital visits to get his mother to show up. Good to know.
Merrin toyed with a long, silver feather dangling from a chain around her neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. The traffic from Gloucester was…”
Ronan walked out of the hospital room to give his mother and grandmother a moment alone. More importantly, he needed a moment alone. He hadn’t prepared himself for a reunion tonight, and there was so much—and yet so little—he wanted to say. Sighing, he sagged back against the hospital wall and spotted Keira returning with a cup of coffee in each hand, the colorful plastic lids a stark contrast to the relentless white of the hallway.
“You called her?” he said as Keira came up to him, handing over one of the cups. She’d clearly gotten one for him and one for Orna and nothing for herself, because that was how his sister operated.
“Mom?” Keira’s blue eyes met his, unwavering. Ready to be challenged. “Yeah, I called her.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s family and she deserves to know.”
Ronan sipped the drink, but it tasted like sawdust. “Is a DNA link all that’s required to be considered part of this