Page 40 of Flawed Fate
The air feels charged. It’s not the fear or dread, but something else. Anticipation, maybe, feeling thick as it lingers just out of reach.
Declan pours himself another cup of coffee and sits across from me. “You’re either thinking too hard, or you didn’t sleep enough,” he says.
“I don’t feel tired,” I say quietly.
It’s not a lie. I mean, I feel very awake, but in a way that scares me. From the moment I took Declan’s hand in front of everyone, I’ve felt alive. When he said he wanted me, chose me.
He lifts his gaze. The blue in his eyes cuts through me, the same way they did that first night, but now I see the vulnerability. He doesn’t hide it anymore.
“I’m not good at this,” he says, his voice sounding softer than he probably means for it to. “Making things normal after... all that.”
“I’m not either.” I run my finger over a knot in the wood. “But I want normal.”
“Same.”
We could stop the conversation here. Leave it hanging. Simply let it be a mutual admission of the unknown. But the tension in the room won’t let us. I can feel it building, the need to say more, to stop letting uncertainty define what we are.
I speak up before he has a chance to.
“Declan, I need to know why,” I say, my voice sounding steadier now.
“We both know the bond couldn’t be broken. You could have ignored me last night, told me no, and waited it out. But you didn’t.” I look down at the table, then back up at him. “I… I guess what I’m really asking is if you actually wanted what happened between us, or was it more out of obligation? Was it something you felt like you had to do?”
He sets his mug down and reaches across the table to take my hand.
Instinct has me trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let me.
“Honestly, Iris, I don’t know how much of it was the bond,” he says, “but I do know I want you so damn bad it hurts. I want this.” He pauses. “Every time I’m in your presence, it feels as if there’s a broken part of me that repairs itself.” He winces as soon as the words roll off his tongue, almost like instant regret, but not really. “Shit. I realize how crazy that sounds.”
I inhale audibly, taken aback by his admission.
“Listen... you don’t have to say anything,” he’s quick to add. “If the best you can do today is not bolt for the nearest bus station, I’ll take it. But please don’t think you’re a burden to me, or some job. Especially not after what you did to save us.”
I look down at our hands, interlocked.
“You mean shooting the man who raised me, destroying years of research with one pull of a trigger?”
It doesn’t quite land as the joke I meant it to be. But a small laugh escapes anyway, forgetting I still had it in me.
“Yeah.” He rubs his thumb over my knuckles. “That one.”
The silence shifts and resets, but I don’t look away.
“I’m not good at this either,” I murmur. “But when I look at you, I don’t feel panic or dread or whatever I’m supposed to. Instead… it’s warm. And I can’t tell if that’s the bond or if I’m finally allowed to feel something that doesn’t hurt.”
Something changes in his face. Relief, maybe. Or disbelief.
“Iris, you deserve to feel things that don’t hurt,” he says.
I look at his wrist, where old scars mark the skin. Evidence of a life spent healing fast and fighting faster.
“What now?” I whisper.
“Anything,” he answers. “Anything you want.”
Declan is still watching me, which should feel weird but doesn’t. There’s no sudden, unexpected revelation. No shift. Only the sound of the old refrigerator doing its uneven hum, realizing for the first time I’m not afraid of what comes next.
Zeke comes in from outside and sees us together. He doesn’t say a word as he examines a coffee mug that was left on the counter. After a few seconds, he shrugs, refilling it. Then he pours another and brings it over to where I’m sitting at the table.
