Chapter 31 Lyra
LYRA
Steam curls around me as I press my hands to the shower tiles and look down, letting the hot water pound against my back. It's been two whole weeks since Declan looked me in the eyes and told me he loved me, and I stopped running long enough to say it back.
It's been two weeks since we said it, I love you.
And in those fourteen days, something in me has begun to heal.
Not just the surface wounds or the haunted flashbacks, but the deeper things.
The bruised pieces I'd locked away. The parts that always whispered in my mind that I'd never be safe, never be loved, never be allowed to stay.
But they were wrong.
I still wake up sometimes convinced it was a dream, that moment in the library when Declan cornered me against the bookshelf, his eyes fierce as he said those words to me: I love you, and I'm not going to ever stop.
The memory makes my stomach flutter even now.
And I'm proud of Declan. He's listened to everything I told him to do. He doesn't limp anymore. The wound on his side is almost completely closed up, and ibuprofen keeps his pain at bay.
He's himself again, smiling, brooding, maddeningly observant. The man who notices things about me most never would. Like how I only ever wear that navy sweatshirt when I feel extra lovey and emotional, or like what he did this morning.
I woke to the most delicious smells drifting up from the kitchen.
I walked downstairs in one of Declan's white undershirts and leggings and found him sitting at the island surrounded by pastries and breakfast foods.
He'd had my favorite bakery bring one of everything from their menu.
We sat and ate far too much, feeding each other bites of croissants and danishes until my stomach hurt from fullness and laughter.
Afterward, I gave the leftovers to the staff, who seemed surprised by the gesture.
Even when you think Declan isn't paying attention, he is. He notices everything. I hope he'll always be like that.
Overall, since we stopped pretending and started this, whatever this is, it feels more real than anything I've ever had. Maybe that's why I can't stop replaying every second of our time together.
Like now, as I work shampoo through my hair, remembering the look on his face when he tried to surprise me with the medical room in the basement.
The disappointment that flashed across his face when I told him Nina had already shown me.
The look on his face was almost comical.
But once I explained why, and that I'd been too focused on saving his life to appreciate the gesture, he loosened up.
So he walked me through everything, and I finally was able to take it in.
To really see what he'd created for me. I still can't believe he did that for me and how happy it made me to have him support my skills and want to see me succeed in whatever I end up doing.
I went about life thinking my medic background was a curse thrust upon me, but Declan's enthusiasm and passion for wanting to see me succeed with it really made me…
well, I can't even put it into words, but amazing.
And to thank him, I may have matched his energy with a very enthusiastic thank you on my knees. The thought sends a tingle right between my thighs.
I turn the faucet off and step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a soft towel. Despite how perfect things have been lately, I'm buzzing with something else today. Anticipation, excitement, and nerves.
Tonight is the first tournament since the attack. We missed the last one while Declan was recovering, but tonight, we're going, and I get to work again.
It's a pretty big tournament, with fighters from all over the Northeast. Declan says I need security from now on, so two guards have been assigned to me, George and Nathan.
They've been with me for a few days now. Nice enough guys, but always hovering and kind of stiff. George talks to me about his kids, and Nathan barely speaks, but his eyes miss nothing.
I don't know. Declan says it's necessary. I don't 100 percent agree, but he says he listened to me on what I know, so I should listen to him on what he knows. I don't disagree with that, so I have bodyguards now.
I finish getting dressed, twist my hair up, and step into my boots. I go over my bag of medical supplies I've packed, double-checking everything. Some habits never die.
I sling the bag over my shoulder and make my way downstairs, right on time.
Declan is waiting by the front door. He's had a few things to take care of before leaving, calls with Shane, something about shipping logs or something.
I have no idea. I didn't ask for details.
There are parts of his life I'm still learning to navigate, boundaries we're still defining on what I need to, or want to, know about that life.
"Even in work mode, you look sexy," he says and leans down to kiss me.
"You're one to talk, Mister perfectly tailored suit. You know what it does to me when I see you wearing one."
He kisses the side of my cheek and whispers in my ear, "Why do you think I'm wearing it?"
I turn red.
"Okay, smooth talker, let's go."
He takes my hand. It's warm and perfect. I hold on tighter than I mean to. We walk out together, George and Nathan flanking us like shadows.
The car ride is quiet, but not in a bad way. Declan drives with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped around mine. When he needs both hands for driving, I rest my hand on his thigh, unable to break contact completely. I don't even think about it anymore. I just want to be touching him.
He's become something more to me than I ever could have imagined, and by staying, I've actually allowed myself to open up, to be vulnerable with him. To let him be my rock.
And it's wild how easy this has become. How natural. Like I've always been here. And maybe, in some strange cosmic sense, I was always meant to end up in his orbit. Maybe love isn't something you find. It's something that finds you when you finally allow it to catch up.
We turn into the warehouse parking lot, and it's crowded with cars. Fight nights always draw a crowd, especially when Declan Killaney's fighters are on the card.
We get out of the car and start walking.
"Nervous?" he asks, catching me staring at the building.
I shake my head. "I always am before having to turn into medic mode."
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against my knuckles. "You'll be fine."
I smile, and we walk inside to a packed house.
Declan pulls me close.
"You stay with the guards. Don't wander off. And if anything feels off, you come find me. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," I tease, but nod. "I'll be careful."
He kisses me softly, and then he turns to talk strategy with his fighter. I press my lips together and try to hide my obvious smile as I still feel the tingle from his lips.
George and Nathan lead me to the back prep room, where I set up the med kit, gloves, suture packs, antiseptic bottles, and gauze. Everything I need is here. It's familiar, and it's nice to be in my element again.
Just like old times, I think as I finish arranging everything in neat little rows that will get messed up the second someone needs me.
Except it's not like old times at all. No fear of Albanian handlers appearing over my shoulder. No gun pressed to my head dictating who I can and cannot treat. Just me, my skills, and the choice to use them how I see fit.
About thirty minutes later, the first fight starts, and I step out to watch from the back.
Declan stands ringside, arms crossed, face animated as he shouts instructions to his fighter.
He's in his element here. The underground fight scene is as much his kingdom as the empire he helps his family run.
I decide to stay back, wanting to give him space to enjoy this return to normalcy as well.
The crowd roars as a particularly vicious left hook sends a fighter staggering. Blood sprays across the canvas, and I mentally catalog what supplies I'll need if they call me.
My gaze drifts across the room, and I freeze. Standing near the back is a face I never expected to see again, one I'll always remember. Dr. Johns, the Albanian clinic doctor. The one who told me I could never have children.
George notices my tension. "Everything okay?"
"I know that man," I say. Without waiting for their approval, I walk toward him, my guards following closely.
The doctor does a double take as I approach with my bodyguards.
"Dr. Johns," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Do you remember me?"
The doctor looks at me for a moment. "Oh yes. Lyra, right?"
I nod.
"How are you doing?" he asks, genuinely surprised to see me. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm a medic for the fighters now. Declan Killaney's fighters specifically."
"Oh, that's fantastic," he says, looking at George and Nathan. "No more...?"
"Albanians? No. Eventually, I bought my way out."
He nods. "I'm glad. I had always hoped you'd make it out. It's why I remember you."
"So," I say, looking around, "what are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm an on-call medic," he says and leans in, "for the other team. You know, gotta make sure they make it home to their wife and kids," he says, shaking his head. "Such a crazy sport."
I nod. "Ah, a thing I don't have to worry about."
"What do you mean? Protecting your fighters?"
"No." I look at him, confused. "Don't you remember what you told me? That I'm not able to have kids."
Dr. Johns looks at me, a bewildered look coming across his face. "Oh, that?" he says, shocked. "No, I'm so sorry. I thought you would have found out eventually."
"Found out what?" I ask.
"That it wasn't true."
"What do you mean?"
He sighs. "It was a favor to your father," he says quietly.
"I was in a bad way back then. Gambling.
Drinking. I owed the wrong people too much.
But your dad, he helped me, and I wasn't sure how I would repay his help.
" He swallows and stops for a moment. "Anyway, when I saw your name on the reports and you walked through my door all those years ago, I felt God was giving me my chance.
I couldn't save you from them completely.
So I lied to them. I didn't see the harm in you thinking that, because I just thought eventually you would find out on your own. "
I stare at him, my mind struggling to process his words. "Are you saying...?"
"You were never infertile, Lyra. I falsified the records. The Albanians were recruiting young women who could bear children for their operation. I thought if they believed you couldn't, they'd let you go."
My hand flies to my mouth. "I can have children?"
The doctor nods, smiling. "Barring anything traumatic happening since I last saw you, yes. You were perfectly healthy in that department. I'm sorry. I thought it would protect you."
Emotion floods through me. Relief, joy, disbelief, all so powerful it's dizzying. Without thinking, I throw my arms around him, hugging this stranger who's just handed me back a future I thought was gone forever.
"You have no idea how good of news this is," I say, tears threatening. "It's the second-best news I've ever gotten."
The doctor smiles, visibly relieved I'm not angry, and glances over at Nathan and George. "Well, happy to be the runner-up," he says with a small laugh.
I laugh. "The first was that man over there," I nod toward Declan, "telling me that he loves me."
The doctor nods. "Then it sounds like you're finally where you belong. Take care of yourself, Lyra."
As he walks away, I stand frozen, overwhelmed by possibilities I'd forced myself never to consider. A family. A future not defined by what can't be, but by what I might create.
Hope rises in me like a scream.
"Oh my God," I say and bring my hand to my forehead.
Sure, I'll need to get tested to make sure he's not lying, but why would he lie? What would he even have to gain? I mean, what are the odds of even running into him after all these years?
Even still, despite these questions, my mind races with images of Declan, a baby, of possibilities.
The thoughts I'd suppressed most ruthlessly these past weeks surge forward: how desperately I want to give Declan a family, how I've longed for it even while believing it impossible.
I know one thing, clear as day.
I want him.
All of him.
And now, I don't have to hold back.
When the final bell rings and Declan's fighter is declared the winner, I don't wait for applause or celebration.
I cross the floor like a woman possessed on my way to tell him everything.
But as soon as I get close to him, the fighter in the ring calls for me. I turn to him and can see right away he needs me.
I can tell Declan when we get home, where it's just the two of us, that there's a possibility we can have a family together after all.