Chapter 7
Lena
It’s been hours since Declan left, and I can’t relax.
Every second that ticks by drags my nerves tighter, wrapping around my chest like a vice.
I’m terrified something went wrong when he met up with Jason.
I’m terrified Wesley knows what happened.
I’m terrified because I feel trapped, like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff with no way to climb down.
But the thing that really has me scared?
What I’m feeling for Declan.
I press my palms against my thighs, trying to steady myself, but my body is restless. My thoughts are restless.
I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me. The heat in his eyes, the unspoken tension stretching so thick between us that it felt impossible to ignore. If my phone hadn’t rung when it did, I swear we would’ve kissed.
The thought has me equal parts turned on and terrified.
I’ve spent years convincing myself that whatever I felt for Declan was nothing more than a stupid, fleeting crush. That the lingering glances, the stolen moments, the quiet connection we shared were all in my head.
But the truth?
The older we got, the stronger my feelings became.
And I got so good at pushing them down, shoving them deep into the darkest parts of me because if I didn’t, I was afraid they would explode out of me.
I rub my hands over my face and sit down on the couch, squeezing my eyes shut.
Big mistake.
Vivid flashes of the past hit me like a sledgehammer.
Declan’s arm slung around my shoulders when we were younger, his touch always just a little too possessive, a little too protective.
The way he always knew when something was wrong, when to push and when to give me space.
The look in his eyes when he saw me tonight, like he was fighting something just as hard as I was.
I snap my eyes open and let out a shaky breath.
“Fuck.”
I stand abruptly, pacing toward the kitchen and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. The cool condensation against my palm does nothing to ground me.
It’s too quiet in this house.
I left the TV on, but the volume is muted just in case someone stops by. Just in case someone is watching. I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.
Neither does Declan.
He made that very clear.
I swallow hard, gripping the water bottle tighter.
I don’t know what’s more terrifying, being trapped in this situation with no way out, or knowing that the one person I shouldn’t want is the only person who makes me feel safe.
My phone rings, shattering the silence and making me jump. My heart slams against my ribs as I scramble to grab it. Jeanne.
Shit.
She’s called several times already. If I keep ignoring her, she’s going to start panicking and knowing her, she won’t hesitate to show up at Twisted Souls looking for me.
Declan told me not to answer my phone.
But in this situation, answering is the only way to protect myself.
I take a slow breath and swipe to accept the call. “Hey.”
“Holy shit, finally! I thought something horrible happened. I was about to go looking for your brother.”
See? I did the right thing.
I force out a small laugh, hoping it sounds natural. “No, it’s good. I just decided to go for a drive and ended up passing out in a parking lot.”
“Umm…what?” She pauses. “That’s weird as hell, but okay. So, how much longer until you’re home? We need to go out tonight. Last night was boring as fuck without you.”
Shit.
Maybe I shouldn’t have answered.
Now I’m stuck. I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell her where I really am. If she thinks something is off, she’ll come looking for me. If she shows up at Twisted Souls, she’ll run into Wesley or, even worse, Declan.
I need to think fast.
“Not tonight,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I’m tired. I just need sleep.”
“You did that last night!” she whines. “Come on, Lee. Time to get dressed up and have some fun. You’re always down for a night out. What’s going on?”
Fuck.
I grip the phone tightly. “Look, Wesley needs me right now. He’s dealing with some shit, and I don’t want to leave him alone. I’m gonna stay with him tonight.”
Silence.
My stomach twists as I wait for her reaction.
Finally, she exhales. “Oh, shit. Is he okay? Can I do anything?”
“No, he’s just—” I hesitate for half a second before pushing the lie further. “He’s just in a bad headspace and wants company.”
She sighs. “Fine. I guess I’ll try to have fun tonight without you.” She pauses for a second. “I’ll text you later.”
“Sounds good.”
The call ends.
I stare at my phone for a moment before tossing it onto the counter.
My pulse is still racing.
I think I just fucked up.
Night has settled in, stretching the silence around me like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Still no word from Declan. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
I hate waiting.
The boredom had gotten the best of me hours ago, driving me to do something completely out of character and cook. It’s nothing elaborate, just spaghetti and a garden salad, but for someone who despises cooking, it might as well be a five-course meal.
And if I’m being honest with myself, a twisted part of me had hoped Declan would walk in to find me in his kitchen, like some sort of domestic fantasy brought to life. But now, the dishes are clean, the food is packed away, except for one small plate I left warming in the oven. Just in case.
Now, with nothing left to distract me, I sit in the dark, staring at the muted TV.
The glow flickers across the room, casting long, eerie shadows that do nothing to calm my nerves.
The hours creep by in a way I didn’t know was possible, my mind an overactive mess of worry, fear, and something else, something I don’t dare name.
I’ve resisted every urge to snoop through Declan’s things. He keeps everything so locked up, so private, and for all I know, he could be seeing someone. Part of me itches to look, to search for signs, but the more rational part of me, the part terrified of being caught, wins out.
So I sit. And I wait. And I drive myself insane.
Then, finally, I hear the key in the door.
I inhale sharply as it swings open.
Declan walks in, and just like that, I can breathe again.
I jump up and rush to him, my pulse racing. “What happened? Are you okay? Did everything go alright?”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look at me.
Instead, he flicks on the kitchen light and heads straight for the fridge. The cold distance in his movements sends a wave of unease crashing over me, but I follow anyway, lingering in the doorway, waiting.
Declan grabs a beer, cracks it open, and takes a long, deep pull.
“Declan?” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath.
The bottle slams onto the counter, and in one swift movement, he spins to face me. The rage in his eyes is like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs.
“What the fuck did I tell you?” His voice is sharp, raw, laced with frustration.
I blink. “What?”
He steps forward, and instinctively, I step back.
“I told you not to answer your goddamn phone.” His voice is razor-edged, cutting through the space between us. “I told you, unless it was me, not to answer the fucking phone.”
The anger rolling off of him is suffocating, his tone so sharp I feel like I’m shrinking under his gaze.
I swallow hard, wrapping my arms around myself. “I had to answer for Jeanne. If I didn’t, she would’ve gone to Wesley looking for me.”
Declan shakes his head, his jaw clenched so tight I think he might shatter his teeth. “Well, she did go to Twisted Souls, Lena. She ran into Wesley and asked where you were.”
My stomach plummets. “Fuck,” I breathe.
“Yeah, fuck,” he snaps. “Why the hell did you tell her you were with Wesley? Jesus Christ, Lena. Now he’s furious, wondering what the hell you’re up to.”
He starts pacing the kitchen, running his hands through his hair in frustration. I press myself against the wall, regret washing over me like a tidal wave.
I’m fucking up at every angle lately.
“What did you say to him?”
Declan stops pacing, dragging a rough hand down his face before dropping into a chair at the table. “I told him that you were probably with someone he wouldn’t approve of.” His voice lowers, almost defeated. “Which isn’t a fucking lie.”
Guilt twists inside me. I hate that I’m putting him in this position.
“I’ll go talk to him,” I say quickly. “I’ll go home and tell Jeanne I lied, too. My problems are just causing you unnecessary ones. I’m sorry, Declan. I really thought I was doing the right thing.”
He sighs, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. When he finally looks up at me, the exhaustion in his face is impossible to miss.
“I’m trying to keep you safe, Lena. I’m trying to help you.
” His voice is quieter now, but no less intense.
“I just need you to do what I fucking ask of you. I told you not to answer the phone for a reason.” He exhales, shaking his head.
“I know trust isn’t easy for you, I get that shit, but fuck, I figured by now you trusted me. ”
“I do trust you, Declan.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “More than I should.”
I move closer, kneeling in front of him. He stiffens slightly when I rest my hands on his knees, and for a split second, I think he’s going to pull away. But he doesn’t.
Instead, his hands find mine.
The rough heat of his touch sends a shiver through me, but I don’t pull away. I can’t.
“You’re going to call Wesley in the morning,” Declan murmurs, his voice steady, commanding.
“You’ll tell him you met someone and didn’t want to make Jeanne jealous. You’ll say you wanted to see where it went before telling anyone.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“He’s gonna be pissed. He’s gonna want to meet this guy.” Declan smirks, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that is dangerous. “But we both know how you are. You fight like hell to keep your private life private.”
I can’t find words.
I’m trapped in this thick, heady tension, and I don’t want to escape it.
Not yet.
“And, Lena?” His voice drops lower, sending heat coursing through my veins.
I swallow. “Yeah?”
“You can’t go home yet.”
His words land like a slow-burning flame against my skin.
“I can’t?” I whisper, my gaze locked on his.
“No. Things aren’t handled yet, and until they are, I need to know you’re safe. So, you’re staying here.”
Right. It’s about safety, not the same reason my pulse is pounding in my throat.
Before I can respond, Declan reaches into his pocket, pulling out a thick wad of cash. He drops it onto the table in front of me.
“Here’s your five grand back.”
I stare at the money, my stomach twisting before I snap my gaze up to his.
I stand abruptly, stepping back. “What the hell?”
He shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. So calm, so unaffected. If I wasn’t so rattled, I’d be jealous of the way his lips linger on the bottle.
“Jason shouldn’t have taken your money to begin with. Take it back, and no more fucking gambling. You understand?”
“Declan, I can’t take that.”
“It’s yours,” he says simply, finishing off his beer.
My mind spins with all the ways he could have gotten that money. I don’t want to know.
My hands shake as I take another step back. “It’s not my money. Not anymore. I fucked up, and I don’t want a dead man’s money.”
Declan chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No one’s dead, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart .
That one word destroys me.
His gaze softens when he glances at the oven. “Damn. You cooked?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “It’s just spaghetti.”
He steps closer, wrapping his arms around me.
I don’t hesitate. I melt into him, my arms circling his waist, my head against his chest.
And for the first time all night, the tension between us shifts, heavy, charged, something neither of us can name but both of us feel.