I’m careful in between strokes to keep my breathing even so I don’t let on.
Seventeen years old and he was in a shoot-out. He could have died. That’s when I realize, he killed someone at seventeen. When I knew him. He had already committed murder.
We were only kids.
Questions pile up and I swallow them all down. I hurt for him. I hurt for all of them as the silence settles comfortably around us.
The thing about pain like that is it never seems to go away. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
I keep massaging his shoulder, easing up on the pressure. When I peek down at him … his eyes are closed. His breathing is deep and even.
Declan fell asleep on my couch. Sound asleep.
I let my hands go still. He looks so peaceful. I can’t possibly wake him. I can’t lie here with him either, because he takes up the full width of the sofa.
What am I supposed to do now that he’s asleep? I find myself going to get him a pillow and a blanket before I can overthink it. His story dwells in the back of my mind. His confession earlier about every rumor being true. There’s a darkness to Declan that’s very real. It’s all I can think as I make my way upstairs.
In the bedroom, I open the closet door and tug the pillow down. I’ve got a box on top of it, so I do it gently. I don’t want a big thud to startle him awake. I have the box out of the way and I’m getting the blanket when his voice comes from the doorway.
“Did you drug me?”
Fuck! I can’t stop myself from gasping, my hand flying to my throat. “Declan. You scared the shit out of me.”
His eyes are dark and suspicious, bordering on angry as he stands a good ten feet away in the doorframe of my bedroom. “Answer me.”
“No.” My heart is going to jump out of my body. “Of course not.” He stares at me, looking in my eyes like he doesn’t believe me. “You fell asleep. I was getting these for you.” I hold up the pillow and the blanket to show him. It’s insane he thinks that and I almost say it. But then I remember calling him a psychopath and I bite my tongue.
It’s more than evident that he’s paranoid, but I would never do that.
“I would never,” I tell him, stressing each word. “You fell asleep and I was just getting you these so you’d be comfortable. I didn’t want to wake you up.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.
Although my heart calms slightly, everything is on edge. “I didn’t drug you, Declan.”
He nods, although his eyes search mine and then he glances around the room as if he’s looking for something before running a hand over his face.
In the back of my head a voice screams, Say something, and I don’t know if it’s yelling at me or if the command is meant for him. Another moment passes in silence and the passage of time creates more space between us.
“I’m going home. Good night, Braelynn.” Remorse coats his farewell.
“Wait,” I call out in a breath, dropping the pillow and blanket. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.”
“Please, kiss me first.” I bite my tongue before the explanation can get out. I don’t feel right. It feels off again. I don’t want us to go back to the tension that was there. “Just kiss me good night?”
A beat passes my uncertain heart before he stalks toward me, both of his hands around my face and he kisses me with a possessiveness and a need that stuns me. His lips press against mine, his tongue parts the seam and he devours me, brutally taking until my back is pressed against the wall.
When he breaks the kiss, I have to catch my breath.
“Good night, Braelynn.”
Declan turns on his heel, and I can hear him leaving the house. I move to follow but the door closes. A car starts up outside, and by the time I reach the door, it’s gone.
Declan Cross is a brutal storm, unforgiving and reckless. That’s all I can think as I sit on the stoop, wishing I had the pillow still so I could hold on to something.
To anything other than the dark tales of a man who never had a chance to live a life other than this hell he was born into.
Declan
I haven’t been able to sleep easily for as long as I can remember.
Sleep evades me. Day in and day out, exhaustion wears me down and begs for me to rest. Yet when I lay, my mind keeps me up, replaying every moment of my life that led to where my family is now. I can admit that after two years of taking on this business relatively on my own has made me paranoid. I’ve been screwed over by more people than I can trust. In fact, the only person other than my brothers who I trust implicitly is Seth. And I barely see any of them anymore.