Prologue - Sienna
I’m standing outside my house, nervously fiddling with the hem of my sweater as I wait for Ronan to arrive. He told me he wanted to talk, and for some reason, those four little words have left me with an uneasy feeling I can’t quite shake. Ronan and I haven’t been together for very long, only about six months, but somehow, he makes me feel as though I’ve known him my entire life. Which is a little crazy when I think about it, especially considering the nine-year age gap between us. My mother certainly has plenty to say about that. According to her, I’m far too young to be dating a man like Ronan. I’m only nineteen, after all, and he’s twenty-eight. But honestly? I’ve never cared about the difference. Not when being with him feels as natural as breathing. We met at the bar where I was working during my summer break, and something just clicked between us. I can’t really explain it. One moment, he was this ridiculously attractive stranger sitting at the bar, and the next, he was someone I couldn’t imagine my life without. He understands me in ways nobody else ever has. He listens when I talk, even when I’m rambling about something completely ridiculous, and somehow remembers the smallest details. He makes me feel loved, wanted, and, perhaps most importantly, like I’m actually worth something. He’s seen me on days when all I wanted was to disappear. Days when things at home became too much, when my mother’s words cut a little deeper than usual, and I couldn’t seem to do anything right. He never made me feel stupid for crying or told me I was being dramatic. He simply stayed, holding me until I could breathe properly again. And he believes in me. In my dreams, in my plans for the future, in the person I want to become. He was right there beside me when I received my acceptance letter from university, grinning almost as widely as I was before lifting me off my feet and spinning me around like we’d just won the lottery. So why does the thought of talking to him suddenly make me feel sick? I glance down the street, pulling my sleeves over my hands. It’s early autumn, and the air has started carrying that familiar chill that tells me summer is officially over. A few golden leaves tumble across the pavement, scraping softly against the concrete. Maybe I’m overthinking things. I have a habit of doing that. Still, Ronan sounded different on the phone. Not angry, exactly. Just serious. Distant, even. And I know him well enough by now to recognize when something is bothering him. The low rumble of a motorcycle reaches me before I see him. My head snaps toward the sound, and a familiar black Indian rounds the corner. I recognize that bike anywhere. A smile immediately spreads across my face, momentarily pushing my worries aside. I raise my hand in a little wave and take a few steps toward the street as Ronan slows down, bringing his motorcycle to a smooth stop in front of me. God, he’s handsome. It’s honestly a little unfair. His jet-black hair is a mess from the wind, the longer strands falling across his forehead while the sides are neatly faded. He runs a hand through it, pushing the unruly strands back, and I find myself watching the movement a little longer than necessary. Not that I can help it. At six-foot-four, Ronan is the kind of man who turns heads without even trying. Broad shoulders, a muscular build, and a presence that makes him seem larger than life. Even beneath the dark sweater he’s wearing today, there’s no hiding the strength in his arms or the solid width of his chest. His skin has that warm, sun-kissed tone I love, and his face looks like it belongs on the cover of some ridiculously expensive men’s magazine. A strong, angular jaw covered in dark stubble, a straight nose marked by a faint diagonal scar, and another small scar cutting through his right eyebrow. They should make him look rougher, I suppose, but somehow they only make him more attractive. And then there are his eyes. Warm caramel. The kind of eyes that can make my stomach flutter with a single look, especially when he smiles at me. Sometimes, I genuinely wonder what a man like Ronan sees in a girl like me. I mean, look at him. He looks like he just stepped out of a magazine, while I spent a good ten minutes this morning trying to decide whether my sweater looked cute or made me resemble a potato. A very comfortable potato, but still. Normally, he’d already be smiling at me by now, probably making some teasing comment about the way I’m staring at him. But today, he doesn’t. And just like that, the uneasy feeling in my stomach returns. For once in my life, I have absolutely no idea how to act around him. I fold my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling awkward as I look up at him. “Hi,” I say, because apparently that’s the best my brain can come up with.
“Hi.”
One word. That’s all it takes for me to realize this isn’t going to be a normal conversation. “What’s wrong?” I ask. Ronan looks away for a few seconds, his gaze settling somewhere down the street. I watch him take a deep breath, his broad chest rising beneath his sweater, before he finally turns back to me. “Sienna, I don’t think this is working anymore.”
For a moment, I’m pretty sure my heart stops beating. My entire body goes still as I stare at him, trying to make sense of the words that just came out of his mouth. Surely, I heard him wrong. “You’re breaking up with me?” I ask, struggling to understand.
“Yes.”
Just like that. One short, emotionless word. My mouth opens, then closes again. I probably look like a fish out of water, but I genuinely have no idea what to say. I keep staring at him, waiting for something. A smile, a sign that this is some horrible joke, anything. But he just looks back at me, his expression completely unreadable. “Why?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper. Somehow, I manage to keep it steady, even though it feels like every part of me is trembling.
“Because this isn’t going to work once you leave for university, Sienna.”
He says it so casually, as though he’s explaining why we can’t go out for dinner tonight. And I don’t believe a single fucking word of it. We’ve talked about this. More than once. We’ve discussed the distance, our schedules, how we’d make time for each other. He promised we’d figure it out together, that a few hours between us wouldn’t change anything. And now, suddenly, it’s impossible? “But—”
Ronan raises a hand, cutting me off before I can finish. My lips snap shut, more out of shock than obedience. Well, that’s new. Ronan has never done that before. He always lets me finish speaking, even when I’m rambling about something completely unimportant. He listens. He asks questions. Sometimes he even laughs at how worked up I get over the smallest things. But apparently, today, I’m not even allowed to finish a sentence.
“You’re going to university, and I have responsibilities here that I can’t walk away from. This is better for both of us. Go have fun. Go out, meet people your own age, Sienna.”
His voice is hard, almost impatient, and I physically flinch at the way he says it. Not because of what he’s telling me, although that hurts enough on its own, but because of how he’s speaking to me. Like I’m some annoying little girl he can’t wait to get rid of. And since when does he keep calling me Sienna? Normally, it’s love or baby. Sometimes sweetheart, especially when he’s teasing me. My actual name usually only comes out when he’s being serious about something, and even then, there’s always warmth behind it. Not this cold, detached tone that makes me feel like I’m standing in front of a complete stranger. “Wow.” It’s the only word I can manage. A painful lump forms in my throat, and I look away, tightening my arms around myself. I can already feel that familiar burning behind my eyes, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not here. Not in front of him. “So that’s it? You’re just done with me?”
My voice sounds strained, but I force myself to meet his eyes again. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of watching me fall apart, even if that’s exactly what’s happening inside my chest. “So everything we talked about? Our future, all those plans we made together... Was that all fake?”
His jaw tightens. It’s a small movement, barely noticeable, but I catch it. For the first time since he arrived, something in his expression changes, and a tiny, pathetic part of me clings to it. Maybe he’ll tell me he’s scared. Maybe something happened. Maybe there’s an actual reason for all of this that doesn’t involve him suddenly deciding I’m no longer worth the effort. Instead, he looks me straight in the eyes.
“This was just a fling for me, Sienna. Nothing more.”
Oh. Oh, fuck. For a second, I forget how to breathe. A fling. Six months of late-night conversations, stolen kisses, falling asleep in his arms, and waking up to messages telling me he missed me. Six months of feeling like I’d finally found someone who genuinely loved me. And to him, it was just a fling? I let out a short, disbelieving laugh, although there’s absolutely nothing funny about any of this. “Okay. A fling. Wow, Ronan.”
The moment I say his name, something flashes across his face. Pain. It’s there for barely a second, disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared, but I see it. And somehow, that makes everything worse. Because if this really meant nothing to him, why the hell does he look like I’ve just hurt him?
“Good luck at university, Sienna,” he says, his voice painfully indifferent as he turns the key and starts his motorcycle. The engine rumbles to life, and panic shoots through me when I realize he’s actually going to leave. Just like that.
“Ronan, wait.” I take a step toward him, desperately searching his face for even the smallest trace of the man who kissed me goodbye just a few days ago. But he only shakes his head.
“You’re a kid, Sienna. That’s not what I want. It was fun while it lasted, but that’s all it was. Nothing more.”
His words hit harder than I thought possible. A kid. That’s what he thinks of me now? The same man who held me in his arms, who told me how much I meant to him, is suddenly looking at me like I’m nothing more than some stupid little girl who misunderstood everything. I feel something inside my chest crack, and for once, I have absolutely nothing to say. I just stand there, staring at him, my throat so tight that I’m not sure I could speak even if I tried.
“Goodbye... Sienna.”
And with those two words, he rides away. I watch his motorcycle disappear down the street, the sound of the engine slowly fading into the distance. Part of me expects him to turn around. To come back and tell me he didn’t mean any of it. That there’s been some terrible misunderstanding and he’s still the Ronan I fell in love with. But he doesn’t. And I remain standing there, arms wrapped tightly around myself, staring at the empty road where the man I love just broke my heart.
