Page 36 of Declan
18
CARA
T he man is a furnace. I may not have been as cold as he was, lying on the floor, but the room was chilly. As upset as I was last night, I couldn’t handle listening to him shiver. Moving him to the bed was for my comfort. So I could sleep. But laying with him in this bed, holding his hand, is the most settled I’ve felt since the night I killed Tyler.
While everything I said last night is true, on the surface at least, now in the light of day, I can admit that underneath, there’s a hell of a lot more going on. Ransom may not have been trying to hurt me, but he still did. I don’t think I fully realized how much I depended on him to have my back until yesterday. He’s my boss, but I always felt like he needed me. Like I wasn’t replaceable. Maybe I turned that into something more than it actually was. I’m not his sister, we’re not family, so of course, he’d put Declan’s needs above mine.
And yes, of course, I’m safe with Dec. I know that. The man spent three years running from me. Pretty sure my non-existent virtue is safe with him. It’s still embarrassing, wishing someone loved you the way you love them. Because I do. This isn’t a crush, as much as I’ve been trying to convince myself it is.
Laying here, as the rising sun turns the room shades of orange, I’m woman enough to admit that the man laying beside me, the one that held my hand all night and —twice that I was awake for— pulled the covers tighter over me, has my whole heart.
And that’s a problem.
A problem I’m going to have to do something about. I can’t be this girl anymore. The pining one. The one throwing herself at a man. Yes, he hurt me, saying that shit to me at the hospital, but then he reeled me back in with his apology, telling me he was jealous. Sure, it’s a caveman move. But I must be part cavewoman because that sign of jealousy filled my pathetic heart with so much hope. Just like that, I was hooked again. My mind went immediately to maybe he does love me.
Until he said he wanted us to be friends.
So what’s a girl to do when she’s in love with a man that doesn’t seem to love her back, but she still has to see him every day at work?
I can find another man to ride like Bree suggested, but my heart’s never been involved in a one-night stand before. No reason to think it would be now. So I fuck around at night and come to work and obsess over Declan each day? That’s a stupid plan. Besides, I haven’t met a man in years who makes me pant the way Declan does just standing across a room.
So do I leave my job? I love my job. I love working with Ransom. Or I did. But maybe that’s broken too. Maybe I don’t respect him as much as I used to after the shit he pulled.
I don’t technically need the job anymore, but I don’t know if I want to lose the safety net it gives me. If I want the club to be successful, I’m going to need to keep pouring my profits back into it.
There are way too many I don’t know’s for me to process right now. These are all decisions for another day. I’ve always operated from my gut, but being responsible for feeding Bree taught me quickly to be deliberate when I make decisions. Can’t fly off the handle and quit when you’ve got a teenager to feed and put through school.
I also really like Declan’s face. Do I really not want to see it every day? Staring at him like this, vulnerable and unaware, is something I do a lot. I stare. But never this close and never when he’s asleep. I thought I knew his face. I thought it was familiar, but in the last few months, it’s gotten harder, the lines of his face maturing somehow. With the short hair, the beard, and all those muscles, he’s like a different person. That sweetness, that geekiness that sucked me in at the beginning is muted.
He tenses, shifting on his pillow, and I resist the urge to slam my eyes closed and pretend I’m sleeping. That’s not me. Instead, I watch as he comes awake. I memorize the way his nose scrunches up, how he scratches at his beard as he yawns. It’s endlessly fascinating.
Even more fascinating? The tightening of his fingers around mine and the slow strokes his thumb makes against my skin.
I expected a slow blink awake. Instead, his rich brown eyes lock on mine, completely aware. Unprepared for the force of his stare, I feel a flush rising. I don’t look away, though. The silence between us stretches, and I’m about to snatch my hand back and roll off the bed when he speaks.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His words are low, reverent. There’s no stopping my flush. It flows across my skin like a wave, heating everything in its path.
“You have to stop saying stuff like that.” My heart can’t take it anymore.
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because you’re fucking with my head.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Maybe not. But the result is the same.” I tug my hand from his, rolling to my back, staring at the popcorn ceiling and questioning all my life choices.
“I never know what to say to you,” he mutters.
Turning my head, I arch an eyebrow. “I’m really not that complicated.”
His face scrunches up. “That’s the biggest fucking lie to ever come out of your mouth.”
Shoving up onto my ass, I pin him with a glare. “Seriously? What the fuck, Declan? There’s no mystery here.” I wave my hand up and down my body. “What you see is what you get. Always.”
He sits up. He doesn’t use his hands, just a quick ab crunch, and he’s in my face. “Bullshit. You’re always hiding behind the clothes and the attitude. I never felt like I could get to know you. Whenever we ran into each other at work, you took my fucking breath away.”
He’s lying. He has to be. “You couldn’t get away from me fast enough. We both know that. You’re rewriting history.” I hop off the bed, probably flashing him my panties, and dig in my bag for my phone. Maybe we can get the hell out of here this morning. I could really use a drink or twelve.
