Chapter 19
19
Jade
T he drive to Declan’s house passes in silence. I’m too upset to speak, but he doesn’t push. He just sits beside me, grabs my hand and provides his presence as a balm to soothe my pain. I’m reminded of how gentle and kind he was at my cabin, and it helps relieve the fear a bit. Still, the stranger’s words replay in my head on a loop, his cold grin burned into my memory. The fear rises to my chest, but I breathe through it, feeling safer with Declan next to me, even though the last thing I want is to drag him into this.
When we finally come to a stop, my mouth falls open as I take in his cabin.
“Wow,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.
His cabin is, in a word, stunning. It’s not a mansion or anything, but it’s certainly twice the size of my little place, at the very least. The wood gleams even in the fading light, and the wraparound porch looks like something out of a rustic dream. The way the trees frame the house, casting long shadows across the yard, makes it feel private, almost hidden. Then I spot the line of generators in the back, all neatly lined up and dwarfing the one tiny generator I have at home. I have the ridiculous thought that his home feels like a secret government safehouse.
When we get inside, I’m no less convinced. The inside of his cabin is warm and inviting, all polished wood and soft lighting. The open floor plan makes the space feel even larger, and I’m instantly drawn to the massive stone fireplace dominating one wall. It easily heats the large space but is also ridiculously cozy.
But what really catches my attention is his office setup. Against one wall, there’s a desk with multiple monitors, all glowing softly, surrounded by shelves neatly lined with books and a few plants. He has one of those huge keyboards with extra characters that don’t make any sense to me, and a state-of-the-art webcam.
Maybe he works for the FBI, or maybe he’s in witness protection. It’s a silly thought, but it helps to pull my mind away from my present fear. I can’t help but chuckle quietly to myself as I imagine Declan as some kind of super spy.
“What?” he asks suspiciously, almost offended.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, but the lilt in my voice gives me away.
“You’re judging me for being a huge nerd, aren’t you?” he teases, his lips twitching in amusement.
“Not judging,” I protest, smiling faintly despite myself. “And I don’t think you’re a nerd at all. I’m just admiring this space. It’s gorgeous. I wish we had been trapped here during the storm instead of at my place. You’ve got heat, power, and probably an endless supply of snacks.”
He shakes his head, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. “Nah, I liked being stuck at your place better,” he answers in a flirtatious tone.
“You liked my place?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leans in close so that he’s whispering in my ear.
“I liked being cold enough that we needed body heat to stay warm.”
My cheeks flush, and I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small shiver that runs through my body at his words.
“That was a nice benefit, I suppose,” I answer. “Although, I think we could have just turned the lights off here and pretended.”
“Definitely not,” he quips, walking over to the fridge. “It wouldn’t have had nearly the same effect. And your bed is much more comfortable than mine.”
“I doubt that,” I mutter under my breath, taking in the opulence of his cabin.
“Are you hungry?” Declan asks, pulling out a few ingredients from the fridge. “I can make dinner early.”
“Can I help?” I offer quickly. Staying busy sounds like a good idea.
He tilts his head, studying me for a moment before nodding. “Sure. Just don’t burn anything,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes again but follow him into the kitchen. As we work side by side, chopping vegetables and seasoning chicken, the tension in my shoulders begins to ease. The kitchen smells amazing. Garlic, rosemary, and something citrusy blend together to make a tantalizing aroma, and my stomach growls in anticipation. For the first time in hours, I feel like I can breathe.
What a hell of a day. It started with pregnancy tests and then my life was threatened. If my life were pitched as a soap opera, even Hollywood studios would probably reject it for being too dramatic. Despite the fear and stress, I can’t help but smile to myself. I’m safe here with Declan, that much is clear. This place feels secure, much more so than my little place down the mountain. It would have been terrible going back there with the paranoia I was feeling.
“You’re really good at this,” Declan comments, watching me as I slice carrots into perfect rounds. “Should I be worried you’re secretly a chef?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m definitely not a chef,” I tell him honestly. “Just someone who spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my mom. She’d definitely put your cooking skills to shame, I am just a humble sous chef.”
He grins at this, grabbing the carrots from me and throwing them into a pan.
“Maybe I should let you cook next time,” he quips. “Not that your canned soup wasn’t excellent, but I feel like I was deprived of the full experience.”
“Oh, so there’s going to be a next time?” I tease, arching an eyebrow.
“I’m hoping so,” he replies, his tone light but his eyes serious. The weight of his gaze makes my heart skip a beat, and I quickly look away, focusing on the cutting board in front of me.
We fall into an easy rhythm, passing ingredients back and forth, trading little jokes and stories. He tells me about the time he tried to build a treehouse as a kid and ended up falling out of the tree instead. I tell him about the time I accidentally set off the smoke alarm trying to bake cookies. By the time the chicken goes into the oven, I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt, and the fear that’s been clawing at me all day feels distant, almost forgotten. Almost.
Despite everything, though, I can’t help but think of the tiny life growing inside of me and the fact that he doesn’t know. How would he react if I told him? Would he be happy? Terrified? Most likely, he’d tell me he’s not ready to be a dad and kick me out.
That would be an inconvenient option since my car is at the shop again. Tawny drove me to work today, and he drove me back. I have no way out of here if things get awkward. I could call Tawny to pick me up, probably, but that would be so much of a hassle. She’s already done so much for me today, I couldn’t ask her to drive all the way up here.
I’m lost in my own thoughts, but Declan clears his throat, forcing me back into the present. He wipes his hands on a towel, and I notice his expression shifts. It’s subtle, but he looks almost scared. The lightness in his eyes dims, replaced by something heavier.
“Jade,” he says, his voice low. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
My stomach twists, my mind racing. I can’t even begin to imagine what would make him get so serious all of a sudden.
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my tone as light as possible.
He hesitates, looking down at the towel in his hands. For the first time since I’ve met him, Declan looks unsure of himself. Vulnerable, even. The sight unnerves me.
“It’s about my past,” he begins, his voice steady despite the tension in his jaw. “There are things you don’t know about me. Things I haven’t told anyone in a long time.”
I swallow hard, trying desperately not to let my imagination run away from me. I’ve done enough of that already.
“Okay…” I breathe out, my pulse quickening. I want him to be honest with me, of course, but I’m not sure how many more bombshells I can take today.
He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Before I came here, before I built this place and started over, I wasn’t exactly a good guy,” he starts hesitantly. “I was involved in some dangerous stuff. Things I’m not exactly proud of. And I don’t know what you’re going through, but after what happened to you today, I feel like I need to be completely honest with you.”
The air feels heavy between us, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it isn’t this.
“Dangerous stuff?” I echo, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, meeting my eyes. “Yes,” he affirms. “And I walked away from it. I thought I left it behind. But the truth is, you never really leave that kind of life. Not completely.”
I lean against the counter, feeling the edge press into my side. The slight pain helps keep me grounded, keeps my head clear. I’m trying to process what he’s saying, to take it all in. Part of me wants to ask for more details, to understand exactly what he means. But another part of me is afraid to know.
“Why are you telling me this now?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“Because if you’re in danger, if someone’s after you, I need you to know that I can protect you. I’ve dealt with people like this before. I know how they think, how they operate. And I won’t let anything happen to you. Not on my watch.”
His words should comfort me, but instead, they leave me feeling even more unsteady.
“Declan…” I start, but my voice falters. I don’t know what to say.
He steps closer, his hand brushing mine. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s read my mind. “Just know that I’m here. Whatever happens, I’m here.”
I nod, even though I’m not sure I believe him. The fear that’s been simmering beneath the surface all day threatens to bubble over again, but I force it back down. For now, I’ll take his word for it. For now, I’ll let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.
The timer on the oven dings, breaking the tension. Declan steps back, giving me a small smile. “Dinner’s ready.”
I nod again, my voice too shaky to respond. As he plates the food, I take a deep breath and feel immensely grateful that I decided not to tell him about the pregnancy. For now, at least, I need to process. I need to know more about him and his past before I can even think about the implications of telling him.