Chapter 17
Lena
Work is slow today, and I’m beyond grateful for it because I’ve done nothing but daydream since I walked in.
Leaving Declan’s this morning felt like leaving a piece of myself behind.
Every step away from his house was heavier than the last. I wanted to stay wrapped around him, wrapped in that hazy warmth we created together.
But real life doesn’t stop for morning-after bliss.
I still have a job. And I need to go home and pack a bag for the weekend.
Wearing Declan’s shirt all day is like a security blanket, but I want to feel sexy for him. Desired. I want to make his jaw drop when I walk into the room.
I lean against the counter and stare out the window at the bright, cloudless sky. It feels like the sun is finally shining after a never-ending storm. Not just in the literal sense, but inside me too. Everything feels lighter. Clearer.
Now that Declan and I are, whatever this is, I can breathe better. Like the air around me has changed. It’s cleaner, softer. I hadn’t realized how much pressure I was carrying until it was gone. Until he kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered and told me I was his.
And this weekend? I’ve been looking forward to it since he said the words.
I know he has club business to handle, and while I’d like to pretend I don’t care, I do.
He forgets that my brother is a Shattered Soul too.
I know how the club works. Maybe not the fine print, but enough.
I know there are secrets, and I know I’m not allowed into that world.
I’m not na?ve. I know Twisted Souls brings in money, and I think that’s the extent of it.
But there’s this nagging feeling in my chest, like I’m only seeing the surface of something much deeper.
It’s hard for me, being left in the dark.
I’ve felt that way for a long time. First with Wesley, now it’ll be with Declan.
Still, if being with Declan means learning to live with locked doors and half-truths, then that’s the price I’m willing to pay. A small one, honestly, compared to what I get in return.
The bell above the door rings, yanking me from my thoughts.
“Hey, Dee,” I say, smiling as my relief walks in.
We talk for a few minutes about how slow the day’s been before I grab my things and all but run out the door. I’m off for the whole weekend and plan on enjoying every damn second of it.
As I walk home, my stomach knots. Jeanne. I’d almost forgotten. Seeing her is going to stir up emotions I haven’t quite settled yet. I shouldn’t be upset that she and Wesley hooked up. I really have no right. But that doesn’t stop the flare of jealousy and protectiveness that burns in my chest.
Jeanne and Wesley both sleep around; that much I’ve always known. It’s not about that. It’s about them together. It feels like my two worlds are colliding in a way I wasn’t prepared for. And more than anything, I don’t want this to blow up and leave me standing in the middle of the fallout.
When I push open the door to our apartment, music is blasting through the speakers. Jeanne is cleaning, which means we’re in full dance party mode, an unspoken rule in our home. Cleaning always comes with loud music and bad dance moves. It’s how we’ve survived breakups, bad days, and hangovers.
“Hey!” I shout over the beat.
She spins around, clutching her chest like I just gave her a heart attack. “Jesus, Lee! You scared the shit outta me.”
I cross my arms, heart racing for a different reason now. “You slept with Wesley?”
Her expression drops. Eyes wide. She takes a step toward me, then thinks better of it as she turns off the music. “He told you?”
I nod, watching her carefully. “Yep.”
“I’m sorry, Lee. It was a drunken mistake on both our parts. It didn’t mean anything.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I reply, voice quieter than I mean for it to be.
She takes another step, confusion settling on her face. “Wait, are you mad?”
“Yes! You’re my best friend. He’s my brother. That’s a line, Jeanne.”
She lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious,” I snap, moving to sit on the couch like I need the cushions to absorb some of the tension in my body.
She plants herself in front of me, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed. “Wesley and I don’t have feelings for each other. We were drunk, horny, and it happened. That’s it. We talked about it. We’re cool. No strings, no regrets.”
“Gross.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” she says, sitting on the coffee table in front of me, meeting me eye to eye. “How many one-night stands have you had? How many of them were with guys you called a friend the next day?”
I flinch, and she doesn’t stop there.
“And you’re pissed about me and Wesley, but what about you and Declan? You expect Wesley to just accept that you’re not only hooking up with his best friend, but that it’s serious? You’ve been keeping it hidden. At least Wesley was honest with you.”
The words hit like a slap. I blink, tears blurring my vision. I stand and follow her into her bedroom, not ready to let her be right without saying something.
“You’re right,” I say, the words catching in my throat. “You’re right about everything.”
She looks up at me, and when she sees the tears, her face softens.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just, I don’t want to have to choose between my best friend and my brother. Ever.”
“You won’t have to. I promise.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “And I mean it, whatever happened with Wesley, it was one time. Never happening again.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
She smirks. “Although, for the record, your brother is extremely demanding in bed.”
“Okay, gross. I really didn’t want to know that,” I groan, laughing through my tears.
Jeanne laughs with me and wipes a tear from under my eye. “You and Declan, though, are you really hiding it?”
I hesitate before answering. “Not hiding. Just being cautious. Declan doesn’t want to blindside Wesley. He wants us to be sure before we tell anyone.”
“And are you?” she asks, tilting her head.
“I’m spending the weekend at his place.”
She smiles knowingly. “So that’s a yes.”
“It is. I’d walk through fire to be with him. And I think this weekend is his way of figuring out if he feels the same.”
“You’ll figure it out. You two always circle back to each other.”
I drop down onto her bed with a sigh. “Well, for now, the sex is insane. Like, life-changing. I could stay hidden forever for more of that.”
She drops down beside me and bumps my shoulder. “Jealous. Spill everything and let me live through you.”
We laugh, and I tell her everything. Not just about the sex, though that’s definitely the highlight, but about how I feel. How Declan makes me feel seen. Safe. Wanted.
And even though I totally overreacted about her and Wesley, I know, deep down, that when the time comes, Wesley is going to overreact too.
But maybe, like me, he’ll come around.
Because Declan’s worth it.
And I think, just maybe, I’m worth it to him, too.
“Okay, I’m going to head over to Declan’s,” I say, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
“Have fun!” Jeanne calls from her room, already half-dressed to go out drinking with some of her friends.
I linger in her doorway, nerves creeping in. “Please don’t say anything to anyone.”
She turns to look at me, her expression softening. “I won’t, I promise. Your secret is safe with me.”
I nod, grateful, and give her a quick hug before leaving. On the way to Declan’s, I swing by my favorite little Italian place and grab dinner. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be a sweet surprise. Something thoughtful. Something that says I’m thinking about you even when you’re not here.
My heart actually flutters the closer I get, which is ridiculous. I saw him this morning. We’d barely gone twelve hours without each other, and here I was already aching for more. It’s pathetic, I know. But it’s not just the attraction, it’s the pull. The want. The need.
But as I pull up to his place and see the empty driveway, my stomach drops.
His bike isn’t there.
Still hopeful, I climb out, carefully balancing the bag of food and my purse. I try the door. Locked.
I knock. Wait.
Nothing.
I knock again, harder. Still nothing.
Embarrassment creeps in, followed by a growing flame of anger. I get back into the car and set the food down on the passenger seat, and call him.
He answers on the third ring. “Hey,” he says, his tone clipped, like I’ve caught him in the middle of something.
“Where are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
There’s a pause, then the sound of a door slamming. “I’m at the Twisted Souls. I have some shit to handle. What’s up?”
I hear it, the rush, the impatience. Like I’m an inconvenience. A pit forms in my stomach, and I grip the phone tighter.
“I’m at your place. I thought we were spending the weekend together. I’ve missed you,” I say, forcing the words past the lump forming in my throat.
“Christ, I can’t leave. Not for a while,” he says, and lets out a tired sigh. “There’s a key under the mat, just let yourself in and I’ll be there when I can.”
And then he hangs up.
Just like that.
No apology. No explanation. No, I miss you too.
I stare at the phone in disbelief before hurling it into the passenger seat. “Asshole,” I mutter, jerking the car into drive and peeling away from his house like I can somehow outrun this humiliation.
By the time I get home, Jeanne’s already gone, and thank God for that because I look pathetic walking in with two takeout containers and a weekend bag that has nothing but lingerie and way too much hope.
I toss everything on the kitchen counter like it’s cursed, strip out of my tight jeans and the black off-the-shoulder top I picked just for him, and slip into my comfiest sweats. I’m done. I’m so fucking done.
I grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, screw off the cap, and skip the glass altogether. Drinking straight from the bottle feels more appropriate.
I’ve just taken my second swig when there’s a knock on the door.
I freeze.
For a second, I debate not answering. Letting him sit out there and wonder what it feels like to be ignored. But curiosity and maybe just a little self-sabotage win out. I march over and yank the door open.
Declan stands there, looking like hell. His cut is off, but he’s still in a black tee and jeans, face tired, hair a little disheveled.
“I messed up,” he says simply.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You think?”
He nods, eyes searching mine. “I shouldn’t have hung up on you. Should’ve explained. But things were tense. I didn’t want to lie to you.”
“Then don’t.” My voice is sharp, emotions bubbling to the surface. “I showed up with dinner. I was excited to see you. I made time for you. And you made me feel like I was in the way.”
He takes a step forward. “You’re not in the way, Lena. But this is my life, it’s not clean or predictable. There’s no schedule. When something happens, I have to handle it. No matter what.”
I scoff. “And what am I supposed to do? Just wait around hoping you decide you have time for me?”
“No,” he says softly, “you’re supposed to tell me when I fuck up. Like you are now. And I’m supposed to come here, apologize, and try to make it right.”
“You’re smooth, you know that?” I snap, but even I can hear the hurt starting to crack beneath the anger.
He steps even closer, his voice lower now. “Only when it comes to you.”
I hate that my body reacts to him before my brain can catch up. The way he looks at me, like he sees right through the walls I throw up. Like he knows exactly where the cracks are.
He lifts his hand, brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I missed you, too, you know.”
That’s all it takes. Something in me softens.
He leans in, slow but sure, giving me the chance to pull away.
I don’t.
When his lips touch mine, it’s like setting fire to every nerve ending in my body. I grab his shirt and pull him closer, and he groans against my mouth. His hands settle on my waist, then roam, anchoring me to him like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
We stumble back into the apartment, lips never parting. My anger melts into want. Into need. Into everything I’d hoped for when I bought that stupid lingerie.
“Next time,” I whisper against his lips, “you better be home when I show up.”
He grins, brushing his forehead against mine. “Next time, I’ll be waiting at the door.”
Then he kisses me again, deeper, rougher, and everything else disappears.