SARAH
Ronan holds Aaron’s hands in his for an uncomfortable amount of seconds. I watch his gaze drop to my husband’s other hand, and a wicked grin flashed in his eyes. It makes me fake a cough to clear my throat, anxious. It’s almost like he’s contemplating cutting my husband’s arm off and deriving so much joy from the imagination.
“Uhmm, I’m sorry. But I think we need to go inside right now. The event’s about to start.” I reach for Aaron’s arm and take it from Ronan’s.
He gives me a curt nod.
“I’ll see you around, Sarah.”
Something about the way he says my name makes my stomach twist into a tight knot.
Aaron and I walk hand in hand into the hall, but I can’t stop thinking about Ronan. It’s worse when his name is on the tongue of every person in the hall. The HawkThornes, althou
