Page 46 of Declan
“What if we stop worrying about everything else? We’re stuck here. What if we date now? Today? It’s just us right now.”
“Date today?”
“Yeah. Date one is lunch. Date two dinner. Date three...well, maybe we just start with dates one and two and go from there, yeah?”
“That’s actually a really great plan.” I’m sweating. Pulling my hand back, I unzip the hoodie, revealing the lacy tank underneath. We could totally date. Easy. I can do this. Only now that it’s real, I’m scared shitless. What if this goes horribly wrong? What if I fuck it up? What if I embarrass myself so badly that Bree and I have to go live in a cardboard box because I can never look at him again and I stop going to work?
“Cara,” he calls softly, laughter in his voice. “Where did you go?”
Wetting my lips, I tell him. “I really don’t want to fuck this up.”
“Neither do I.”
“What if...” I can’t even finish the question. There are so many what if’s running through my head right now.
“I know. But Cara, I promise you that if you change your mind, if for some reason you decide I’m not the guy for you, I will make sure it doesn’t interfere at work. I care about you too much to ever want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything.”
“I know it might not seem like it, but I really don’t have thick skin. Not when it comes to you. My self-esteem has taken a few punches lately, so just be careful with me, please.”
His eyes soften. “I will. Promise.” He watches me seriously, running his hand over his beard. “Speaking of thin skin. Can…can you tell me what happened this morning? It felt bigger than just missing your sister. This last month you’ve been different, and I’ve been really worried about you.”
I run my fingers over the frayed cuff of the hoodie. Declan’s always cycled through hoodies, wearing one out before a new favorite takes its place. This one must be his current favorite. It still smells like him, surrounding me in a blend of soap and the minty beard oil he uses.
“I’m having a hard time with everything right now.”
“Everything,” he repeats, eyes kind and patient.
“Yeah. Tyler. And Bree. She’s still having a hard time.”
“She seems a little better, though.”
“She is better. She’s sleeping a little less. She’s even taken a few shifts at the bar.”
“Are you feeling better?”
I pick at a loose thread. “Sort of. I’m not thinking about it all the time, anyway.”
“Have you talked to anyone?”
“They gave me some names at the hospital. Bree’s gone a few times.”
“You should go, Cara. It will help to talk to someone.”
Maybe, but opening up to a stranger is not something I’m comfortable doing. But most of the last month has been uncomfortable, so what’s one more thing? A tear falls, and I wipe it away quickly, but another follows, then another.
Declan groans, popping up and dropping some cash on the table, then holding out my coat.
“Let’s get out of here.”
I scooch out of the booth into his arms, letting him wrap me up, turning obediently so he can zip me up. Then, with a hand on my back, he guides me outside. Someone’s shoveled, so we’re able to walk back to the room easily. I’m a little sad that I didn’t get to ride him again. That was honestly the highlight of the last year, maybe the last three years, and I’d really like a repeat.
My cheeks tingle as we enter the warmth of the room. It’s still colder than I would like in here, but nothing like outside. The ancient heating system has probably been a little stressed with a full house and freezing temperatures.
Declan guides me to the bed, kneeling to pull off my shoes, then unzips and takes my coat. He pulls back the covers, nudging me in, then tugging them up until I’m snuggled in on my side, facing him. Still kneeling, he crosses his arms on the bed and rests his chin on them, his warm brown eyes a foot from me.
“Talk to me, Cara.”
My tears well again, and I let them roll over the bridge of my nose and onto the pillow. Declan makes a soft, sympathetic sound.
