Page 10 of Downfall

“Deeper,” I coax, and her eyes narrow, flicking to mine for a second before she obeys, taking a long drag of the cigarette. Predictably, she immediately starts coughing as the smoke burns into her lungs.

“It’s been a while,” she admits, handing me back the cigarette so she can cover her mouth.

“Sounds like it.” I take a deep drag, not letting my eyes leave her until the chemicals fill my lungs, the nicotine coursing through my veins, before I exhale through the side of my mouth so as not to get any smoke in her face. But when it clears, the playful, silly woman who sat in front of me seconds ago is gone, and in her place is the sad girl whose heart I broke. Her eyes move to the glowing embers, and that’s when I realize what’s happening.

“Of course you started again.” Her voice is shaky as she stands up and rips off my jacket, tossing it down on the table before storming toward the restaurant door. She stills as she grips the handle and looks back at me, tears welling in her eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you broke that promise too.”

5

SKYLAR

As soon as I peel my eyes open, I sense it. Something is off—not necessarily wrong, just different. My eyes scan the room as the haze of sleep starts to wear off. My head is pounding, but that’s not unexpected. I had all those shots of Fireball with Allie. And then the champagne. Did I drink a whole bottle? No, it was open when I swiped it from the table. I can’t remember how full it was, though. Why can’t I remember?

Oh, that’s right, because I was being slowly chased through the restaurant by the ghost of high school past.

Declan. Oh God, Declan.

My mom texted again, and then I ran into him. Literally.

We talked outside.

I was nice to him. Too nice.

He gave me his jacket, and I told him about the accident, but that’s where things get murky.

Who the fuck did that to you?

I push back the covers and thankfully, I’m in my oversized Emberfield Lantern T-shirt and a pair of blue cotton panties—the same ones I wore last night. At least I wasn’t so out of it that I fell asleep in my dress. The relief from that realization is short-lived when my head throbs again, and I go to rub my temple. The morning light peeking through my curtains catches something in my periphery—something metallic—and I immediately feel the weight of it on the finger poking out from the cast on my left hand. Slowly, I bring my arm up like I’m crouching down to look under a bed, and I just know there's a monster lurking beneath. I know in the depths of my soul exactly what I’m going to find when my finger reaches my line of sight, so when it finally does, I shouldn’t be surprised. My breath shouldn’t get caught in my throat. My heart shouldn’t feel like it’s trying to hammer its way out of my body, but it is, and the whole room spins as I take in the twisted circle of metal sitting below the second knuckle on my ring finger.

It doesn’t all come rushing back in pieces. No, the moment I lay eyes on that finger, it’s all just there in my head like it never left. I remember the cigarette. I finally set free the anger that had been burning inside me from the moment he dared to ask about my injury like he gave a fuck. And then came the words that stopped me dead in my tracks. He didn’t even have to stand up from where he was sitting to pull me back to him. All he had to do was speak.

“Remember when you asked me to marry you?”

My hand freezes on the brassy knob of the door as the memory floods my brain. All it takes is one string of gravelly words from his lips and I’m right back in that moment. Sixteen with heart-shaped eyes staring at the dark-haired boy on a park bench like he hung the damn moon. Only he doesn’t have dark hair—not anymore. I turn back around thinking he might have stood up, but he’s still sitting, arms crossed, ankle slung lazily over his thigh.

“Declan,” I warn, with no real idea of what I’m warning him about.

“You wanted to smoke weed for the first time so badly. You practically begged me to get it for you,” he continues, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with his shoe. “It only took like three puffs and you were high as a kite.”

“That’s the operative word, Declan. I was high out of my mind. So when I said⁠—”

“That you wanted to marry me so we could have lots of little floppy-haired, freckled babies?” he finishes for me.

“I did not say that.”

“You did. Your eyes were all glassy and shit. Kind of like they are now. When you realized what you said, the sweetest little blush crept up your neck.”

“Fuck you, Declan,” I march over to where he’s still sitting as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “You gave up the right to those memories years ago.”

I expect him to argue back or maybe walk away now that he knows he can still get under my skin, but instead he nods as he takes another sip from his flask. “You’re right, I did.” His index finger swirls around the opening of the metal bottle. “But the thing is…” he trails off, bringing the flask to his lips again, closing his eyes as he takes a deep pull of whatever liquid is inside. His Adam’s apple bobs as the drink slides down his throat, and my head swims. I don’t know if it’s from all the alcohol I’ve consumed tonight or the tension radiating between us. Not that it matters. “The thing is,” he continues, the bottle making a slight clacking sound as he places it down on the table. “I would marry you right here and now if you let me.”

I stare at him for a beat. Two. Three. Before a laugh bubbles out of me. It’s so forceful, I have to bend down to grab my knees to keep from falling over. When I finally regain my composure, I can see through watery eyes that he’s not laughing. It wasn’t a joke meant for both of us. Which can only mean that he’s fucking with me.

It’s also at that exact moment that I realize something else. Declan Astor will always have a hold on me. I will never be rid of him because he claimed my heart, and I was the stupid girl who handed it over to him willingly. Of course, he broke it. It was his to break. And while the thought makes me want to crawl away from him with my tail tucked between my legs, it also makes me want to fuck with him right back. Maybe it’s the liquid courage still coursing through my veins and clouding my judgment, but it occurs to me that if I can’t ever get over him, the least I can do is get a little revenge. What if I called his bluff? Made him sweat and squirm for a little bit? It wouldn’t cover even a tenth of what he put me through, but my Fireball-riddled brain doesn’t seem to care.

“Oh yeah?” I say sweetly, taking a few steps toward the table. “Then do it.”

His lips turn up into a grin, his eyes lethal in their intensity. “We taking my private jet to Vegas or yours?” he asks, not allowing his gaze to stray from mine even for a second. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. His family was loaded back in high school, his father owning one of the biggest acquisition companies on the Eastern Seaboard. I can only imagine the wealth they’ve amassed since. My father had money but not private jet money.