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Felicity had been to Murphy’s Bend.

Nobody had mentioned that.

Then again, the only Murphy he’d spoken to about her was his father.

Ronan climbed the porch steps, walked inside, and reached for his phone.

“Dad.” Ronan sank onto the couch.

“Son.”

“You’ve met Felicity.”

“I have.”

“You never said.”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“What did you say to her?” he asked sharply.

“I told her you were a blockhead. But that your heart was in the right place.”

“Oh.” Ronan huffed out a breath.

“She back home?”

“Yeah. Arrived yesterday.”

“Hoped she’d find her way back to you.”

“She doesn’t believe she’s worthy of my love.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Of anyone’s love.”

“Yes.”

Ronan frowned. “That’s it?”

“What else is there to say?”

“She’s done things, Dad. Bad things.”

A snort sounded down the line. “So have you.”

Well.

That was true.

“What do I do?”

“Do the things she’s done make you think less of her?”

“No. God, no. She’s strong. Too strong, perhaps. She doesn’t need anyone.”

“Everyone needs someone.”

“Dad.” Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helping.”

“It’s simple. Do you love her?”