Page 31 of The Prime-Time Experiment

Because from the outside it looked manageable right up until it wasn’t. People assumed it was anxiety, that if the person just calmed down or stopped overthinking, they’d be fine.

But Declan knew better. It was as simple as too much noise, or too many moving parts. Patterns constantly shifting before she could stabilise against them. Over-stimulation.

He leaned back slowly into the couch, eyes still fixed on the screen as the rest of it followed close behind, brutal in its simplicity.

It was partially because of what had been happening to Riley, and yet it was also how it was made worse by the things he’d said to her.

Stop overthinking it.

Relax.

You’re making it harder than it needs to be.

The words replayed in his head now, casual at the time, ugly in hindsight.

His stomach dropped, because he hadn’t just missed it. He’d pushed it with every variation in the drills. Every time he deliberately disrupted her rhythm, because he liked watching her react. Every fucking moment he’d kept pushing for another response because he thought it was funny, or interesting, or because he liked being able to get underneath her skin when nobody else could.

His hand dragged slowly back through his hair as the realisation settled heavier and heavier in his chest.

He knew better, that was the part that made it feel so bad.

He knew exactly what overload looked like in someone trying desperately to hold themselves together anyway. He knew how exhausting and disorienting it was, and intentional or not, he had been the thing pushing Riley there.

Because he’d mistaken provoking her for connecting with her and hadn’t realised there was a point where it stopped being playful and started becoming cruel.

Declan exhaled sharply through his nose, shame settling low and heavy in his chest.

“Fuck,” he said again, quieter this time. Because Riley had been trying the entire day, and he stood there grinning while he made it harder.

His gaze dropped back to the paused frame, to Riley’s hands pressed tightly over her ears, to the moment she tried to contain something no one else in the room had even noticed. “There’s no way she can experience that again.”

The words settled, more decision than apology. Because now he knew how to fix what he’d damaged. He needed to help her, give her consistency, predictability. She had asked for clear expectations and a space to settle instead of constantly forcing her to readjust around him, so that’s exactly what he’d do.

Make himself someone safe for her nervous system instead of another thing it had to defend against.

Declan reached for his phone at last, something steadier settling underneath the guilt now. Because Riley had spent the entire day trying to meet him where he was.

Now it was his turn to meet her there instead.

❈

Declan hung up the phone a second before the front door opened. He set the phone down without looking at it, dragging a hand briefly through his hair as he shifted back into the couch.

“Mate, I’m gone for one game and when I come back, you’ve broken the internet.”

Tyler’s voice carried in ahead of him, followed by the sound of the door closing and keys hitting the counter. Ebony trailed just behind, her smaller hand slipping free of his as she stepped into the room on her own terms.

Declan glanced up, one brow lifting slightly. “Bit dramatic.”

“Have you actually looked at your phone?” Tyler asked.

“I’ve glanced at it.”

“Don’t,” Tyler said immediately. “It’s chaos. Mum’s already texted me asking if she needs to meet your ‘lovely psychologist girl.’”

Declan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That didn’t take long.”

“Mate, you challenged her on live TV,” Tyler said, dropping onto the arm of the couch. “What did you think was going to happen?”