Chapter 15
Lena
Jeanne and I are finishing up our shift at her family’s boutique. It’s not the most thrilling job in the world, but being surrounded by beautiful clothes every day? I can’t complain. Especially considering that if I didn’t work here, I couldn’t afford half of them. Perks of the job, I guess.
“Are you coming home tonight, or is the mystery man still in the picture?” Jeanne asks as we gather our things from the back.
I glance at her, already expecting her playful smirk, but she looks a little too curious.
“I’m having dinner with Wesley tonight, actually.”
She freezes, hand suspended midair as she reaches for her purse. Her reaction is subtle, but I’ve known her long enough to catch it. I narrow my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She recovers quickly, spinning toward me with a smile so big it almost looks real. Almost.
“Nothing,” she says too cheerfully.
“Right,” I mutter, grabbing my bag and following her out.
“Where are you guys going?”
I shrug, digging in my purse for my phone. “No clue. I haven’t talked to him since I left Twisted Souls last night.”
Her steps falter slightly. “Oh, so these are plans you already had.”
It’s a casual statement, but there’s something tight about her tone. I should be more curious about her weird vibe, but I see a missed text and I instantly forget about Jeanne.
Declan: Heads up, Wesley wants me to join you guys for dinner tonight.
Two minutes later.
Declan: Delete this message.
I blink at the screen, my pulse picking up. Seriously? Does he actually think Wesley is going to snatch my phone and scroll through our texts like an overprotective dad?
I roll my eyes and shove it back in my purse, trying to ignore the sting behind the absurd request.
“Did you hear me?” Jeanne asks.
“Sorry, what?”
She shakes her head, brushing off my distraction as we continue walking. We don’t live far from the store. Another perk, thanks to Jeanne’s parents. They found the place for us, though we cover the rent ourselves.
“I asked if this dinner is about your mystery man.”
I let out a noise of frustration and shake my head. “Stop calling him that.”
“Well, you told me you had the best sex of your life last night, but you won’t even tell me his name. What should I call him, huh?”
She’s not wrong. I was glowing today like I’d just been reborn, and I didn’t even try to hide it. Declan had wrecked me in the best way, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Until his message. Now, I feel annoyed, wondering how he’s going to act at dinner. If he’s going to pretend like none of it happened.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “It’s just complicated. I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she stops dead in her tracks, eyes wide with sudden realization. “Oh my God. It’s Declan!”
“What?” My voice pitches too high, and I whip my head around to face her.
“You never keep secrets from me, only Wesley. You came in glowing, happy, like someone who just had their entire world rocked. You said it was the best sex of your life. Then you said it’s confusing.” She laughs, grabbing my arm. “I knew it. I’m right, aren’t I?”
I open my mouth to deny it, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Not to her. I’m going to be sitting at dinner tonight, lying to both of them, and I don’t have it in me to lie right now.
“You’re right,” I whisper.
“Holy shit,” she breathes. Her eyes are practically sparkling. “I knew he felt the same way about you.”
She looks at me, suddenly more serious. “He does, right?”
We step into our building, and I wait until we’re behind our apartment door before answering. No one else needs to hear this.
“Yeah. I mean I think so. He said he’s wanted me for years, and I believe him. But he also doesn’t want anyone to know. He’s scared of how Wesley will react.”
I collapse onto the couch, sighing like I’ve been holding my breath all day. I pull out my phone and hand it to her, showing her the text.
She reads it and sets the phone on the coffee table like it’s nothing.
“Who cares? He wants you to delete it? He’s just being cautious.
You’re always worried about Wesley finding out about your love life with any guy.
So now what? You want Declan to show up tonight and publicly confess his love for you at dinner? ”
She plops down beside me, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “This thing with him is new, Lena. Give it some time. Figure out if it’s real, if it’s worth the fallout, before you throw gasoline on the family bonfire.”
I groan, dropping my head back dramatically. “Ugh. You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” she says smugly. Then her tone softens. “But Lee, do me a favor?”
I turn my head toward her. She’s grinning again.
“Tell me everything. Every filthy, hot, dirty detail. I need to live vicariously through you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Deal.” I stand and offer her my hand. “But first, help me find something to wear tonight. I need to look so good, Declan wants to drag me outta there.”
Declan’s already there when I walk in.
Of course he is. Sitting in the booth beside Wesley like he owns the place, like his cocky grin from last night isn’t still imprinted behind my eyelids every time I blink.
His arm is stretched casually along the back of the booth, fingers drumming a slow rhythm, like he has all the time in the world.
My entire body goes tense the second his eyes meet mine. That fire? It’s still there. Smoldering. Quiet. Dangerous.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the booth across from them.
Declan’s eyes flick down my body and back up before he nods. “Lena.”
My name on his lips shouldn’t make me feel like this. Not with Wesley sitting right there, oblivious. But it does. My stomach flips, heat blooming low in my belly just from that one look.
“You okay?” Wes asks, watching me a little too closely. “You look flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, grabbing the menu like it’s a lifeline. “Hot out.”
Declan hums. I don’t even look at him, but I feel it. The weight of his attention. His leg brushes mine under the table, just barely, and I swear my heart skips.
We order. The second the waiter disappears, Wesley leans back and sighs. “So. This is gonna be awkward.”
My stomach drops. “Why?”
Declan goes completely still in front of me, his eyes locking on Wesley like he suddenly forgot how to breathe, too.
Wesley hesitates, glances between us, then back at me. “I hooked up with Jeanne.”
My brain stutters. “You, what?”
“Yeah. It was a mistake. Drunk night, too much tequila. It’s not a thing. It was never gonna be a thing. Just—” he shrugs “—one night. But I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
I blink. Hard. Trying to process that. The hot punch of protectiveness surges through me before I can stop it. Jeanne is my friend. My friend. And she slept with my brother? Without saying a damn word?
“That’s disgusting,” I mutter.
Declan coughs like he’s trying not to laugh. I kick his shin under the table. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Lena, c’mon,” Wesley says. “I’m telling you because I respect you. I’m not proud of it, alright?”
I cross my arms. “I can’t believe you.”
“You’ve done worse,” he fires back.
That hits a little too close. My eyes flick to Declan before I can stop myself.
He catches it.
Of course he does.
Wesley, thankfully, doesn’t.
“You don’t even like Jeanne like that,” I snap, defensive and hypocritical and suddenly way too emotional.
“I told you. It was a one-time thing. No feelings. I don’t even know how it happened. We were drunk, she was laughing, I was, I don’t know. Lonely. Stupid. You know I’m not good at this relationship crap.”
I press my lips together. Because he’s right. He’s not. And the truth is, I know Jeanne’s heart isn’t in it either. But it still feels like a betrayal somehow.
My fingers clench under the table, and then a hand brushes against mine.
Declan.
Slow. Steady. Subtle. Like he knows I’m about to spiral and is grounding me the only way he can, without blowing our secret wide open.
I shouldn’t let him.
I do.
Wesley is talking again. “She said she didn’t want anything serious. I didn’t either. That’s it. It’s over. I just didn’t want you to find out and think I was sneaking around.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I appreciate you telling me. I just need a second to process.”
“You’re mad,” he says.
“Yeah. A little.”
Declan’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand beneath the table. My skin tingles.
Wesley’s brows draw together, and I feel the sudden sharp edge of guilt slice through me.
How can I sit here and judge him for a one-night mistake when I’m the one sleeping with his best friend?
Not just sleeping with him. Losing my mind over him.
My stomach knots. The shame mixes with desire and tension and something dangerously close to longing.
“I didn’t mean to mess anything up,” Wesley says, looking genuinely apologetic. “Your friendship with Jeanne matters to me.”
I nod. “I know.”
Declan doesn’t say a word, but his hand lingers against mine, his touch warm, gentle.
Wesley picks up his drink. “Well, this is officially the weirdest dinner we’ve ever had.”
“You say that every time we go out,” I mutter.
“Yeah, and it keeps being true,” he grins.
I force a smile, but I’m not fully there.
Because while Wesley’s watching the waiter refill our water glasses, Declan shifts in his seat, his fingers digging into my thigh.
My breath catches.
And just like that, all the fire I felt earlier is back. Blazing.
I can’t be mad at Wes.
Not when I’m the one playing with fire under his nose.
Dinner continues with mostly awkward conversation about the weather.
Once it’s over, Wesley apologizes again, and I hug him, thanking him for dinner but say nothing about Jeanne.
Wes tears out of the parking lot, his bike a loud, angry roar disappearing into the night. I stand there in the stillness he leaves behind, arms wrapped around myself, not because I’m cold, but because my chest feels like it might crack open from everything I’m holding in.
He told me about Jeanne. Blurted it out like ripping off a Band-Aid, then waited for me to bleed.
But I didn’t. Not really. I was angry, sure, but only for a second.
Because the truth is, I’ve been sleeping with his best friend.
I hear the familiar crunch of gravel behind me. I don’t have to look to know it’s Declan.
Of course, he waited.
Of course, he stayed.
“Thought you’d be gone by now,” I murmur without turning.
“I figured you might need a minute.”
I finally glance over my shoulder. He’s standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, watching me like he always does, quiet, steady, intense. Like I’m a problem he’s dying to solve with his hands and his mouth and every inch of him pressed against me.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Liar.”
I huff a soft laugh. “That obvious?”
He walks toward me slowly, the way he always does, like he’s giving me time to run, even though we both know I never do. I never want to.
When he’s close enough, I tilt my head up to meet his eyes.
“He told me about Jeanne,” I say.
Declan nods once. “I figured he would.”
“It was just once?”
He nods again. “Drunk. Stupid. Over before it started.”
I swallow hard. “I wanted to be mad. I really did.”
“But?”
“But I’m sleeping with you,” I whisper. “So what right do I have?”
His jaw clenches, and I see the guilt flicker there for just a second before it’s buried under something darker. Need. Frustration. Want.
I step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a blazing fire.
“This is wrong,” I murmur.
“I know.”
“But I can’t stop.”
His hand lifts, knuckles brushing my cheek. “I don’t want you to.”
My breath catches.
He leans in, voice low and rough against my ear. “But he can’t find out, Lena. Not yet.”
I nod because I get it. I do. I don’t want to hurt Wes, not more than I already have. But being away from Declan feels like punishment for something I can’t help.
“I hate hiding this,” I admit.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Me too.”
There’s a beat between us, full of all the things we can’t say out loud.
Then he asks, voice soft and sure, “Come home with me?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
He doesn’t smile, but his eyes burn hotter. He brushes a kiss across my lips, tender and quick, but it’s enough to unravel me. He climbs on his bike, and I slide on behind him without another word, pulse pounding like I’ve made a deal with the devil and I’m begging him to collect.