Ch. 5 A Painful Confession

Saoirse’s POV

I got up to open the door. I already knew who it was—Ronan. My mother’s fated mate. After she left, he took it upon himself to care for Grandma. I had learned the truth of what happened to them back then, and every time I saw him, I felt both guilty and sad.

I opened the door, and there he stood—tall and solid at six feet, dressed in a blue flannel shirt and worn jeans. His brown hair was messy, and his hazel eyes were hopeful.

“Hi, Ronan. Come in. Grandma baked the scones you like.”

He kissed my cheek in greeting, and immediately a dangerous snarl erupted from behind me.

“Not on my table, young man,” Grandma snapped at Renzo. Shane nearly choked with laughter.

“It’s all right, Renzo,” I explained quickly. “This is Ronan—my mom’s fated mate.”

Shane spat out his coffee. Renzo shook his head, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Say what?” they both blurted out at the same time.

“It’s a long story,” I sighed. “But he’s been looking after Grandma since we moved to the States.”

“Now, now,” Grandma said sternly, lifting her chin. “I don’t need anybody taking care of me. Especially this boy. He’s lucky I tolerate him enough to let him hang around.”

But Ronan and I knew the truth—she loved him like a son. He laughed, bent down, hugged her where she sat in her chair, and kissed her cheek.

“I love you too, Maeve,” he said warmly. “I came as fast as I could when I heard you had visitors from the States. For a moment, I thought maybe Aela had finally come back.”

Grandma clicked her tongue. “How did you hear so fast? Never mind, those wolves and their mind-link… think they’re all that.”

That’s when Renzo frowned, tilting his head. “Grandma… now that you bring that up, and without meaning to offend, I don’t sense a wolf in you.”

“That’s because I don’t have one, boy,” she said. “I’m not a werewolf. My husband was, though. One day, bold as brass, he came up to me at a town fair, claiming I was his fated mate. I told him to get lost—that was the worst pickup line I’d ever heard.” Her eyes softened with memory. “But he was relentless. From that day forward, I saw him everywhere. He’d get into fights with any boy who so much as looked at me. Honestly, I thought he was bewitched, but I had nothing to do with it. Eventually, he confessed he was a werewolf, and I admitted I was a witch. I gave him a chance… and we lived happily for many years, until he died saving our neighbor’s child from a fire.”

Her eyes glistened, and the room went quiet. Shane was the first to speak.

“That sure sounds like a great love story, Grandma Maeve.”

“It was,” she said softly. “The kind of love story my dear Aela deserved. Not one forced on her.”

Her hand found mine and squeezed it against her chest. I knew what she meant. Ronan and Mom had been meant for each other, but my father had claimed her instead. Renzo’s gaze flickered between me, Grandma, and Ronan.

“What happened between you and Aela, Ronan?” he asked.

Ronan sat down at the table, reaching for a scone. He looked at me with apology in his eyes before he began.

“It’s a sad story, full of what-ifs,” he said quietly. “Colin was my best friend since high school, and he lived next door to Aela. He convinced me she wanted nothing to do with me when I confessed that I liked her. So, I never worked up the courage to ask her out. At her seventeenth birthday party, I finally confronted her. She told me I didn’t like her—Colin had told her I found her annoying. That night, the truth came out. We started dating, and she gave herself to me. I was sure she was my mate—I could feel it. We both had wolves but wouldn’t know for certain until we turned eighteen.”

His voice roughened.

“Then everything fell apart. My parents were killed in a rogue attack, and I was still a minor. My uncle dragged me to Scotland, even though I swore I’d return for her. I promised Aela I’d return. But after my uncle’s accident, I had to help run his store until he healed. Almost two years passed before I could return. I sent letters to Aela all that time—but Colin intercepted them. He fed her lies, forged replies. When I came back… she already had a newborn in her arms. Saoirse, it was you.”

The weight of his words hung heavy.

“My wolf went mad, screaming mate, mate, mate when I saw her on Colin’s porch with a baby in her arms. Later, I learned Colin had told her I wanted her to move on, that I didn’t care. Aela… she felt indebted to him. He had protected her, provided for her, and she refused to ‘destroy her baby’s family,’ as she put it. She rejected me outright. I kept trying, but in the end, Colin took her away. And that was the end of it.”

Pain radiated from him, thick and real. My throat tightened. It was the second time I’d heard this story, but it hit harder now. I knew one thing: I would never steal someone else’s mate. If Renzo wasn’t mine, I wouldn’t survive the guilt… or the loss.

“Ronan,” I said softly, “would you consider returning with us? We’re leaving tomorrow. Maybe you should try one more time. Tell her the truth yourself. And if she still chooses Colin, at least you’ll know you tried.”

Grandma Maeve tapped her cane against the floor, her eyes fierce.

“You go and bring me back my daughter, boy.”

---

That night, I sat on the porch with Renzo. He was in Grandma’s old rocking chair, and I perched on his lap like I always used to, fitting perfectly against him. I rested my cheek against his chest, tracing the tattoos that sprawled across his arms and beneath his shirt. My fingers stilled when I undid one button and found ink across his chest. My breath caught. My name—written in cursive—was etched right above his heart.

“When did you get this?” I whispered.

“It was my first one,” he admitted. “Two years ago, right after I left. You were the first thought I had every morning… and the last one I had every night.”

His gaze dropped to my lips. My tongue darted to wet my bottom lip, and that was all it took. His hand cupped the back of my neck, the other pulling me closer by the waist. His lips crashed against mine, claiming.

It was my first kiss ever.

I gasped for air, but he plunged deeper, his tongue tangling with mine. My hands were trapped between us, clutching at his shirt. He kissed me harder, nipping my lips with his teeth before one of his hands slid up to squeeze my breast. A whimper escaped me. He cursed low under his breath.

Heat flamed my cheeks. My eyes flew open, wide as saucers. “Good night,” I squeaked, scrambling from his lap and running inside before my face could betray just how much I wanted him.