Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CLAIRE
By the time I pull into the driveway of my townhouse the next afternoon, I’m grateful to be back in Sycamore Falls. This is what I need. To be somewhere familiar and put space between Declan and me. Distance always dulls sharp edges. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s how it’s supposed to work.
Except it doesn’t.
Declan is still everywhere. In the ache between my legs. In the ghost of his fingers brushing against my skin. In the way my lips tingle whenever I replay the moment at the hotel door as we said goodbye, his mouth lingering on mine like letting me go was physically painful.
None of it felt like just sex.
None of it felt temporary.
And yet, that’s all we are. All we’re supposed to be.
But a reckless part of me keeps wondering… What if?
Needing to silence that voice, I storm toward the kitchen cabinets and grab flour, sugar, and chocolate chips. Baking cookies should help. The process of mixing and measuring usually forces my mind to focus on something else.
But being in the kitchen reminds me of Declan. Of the night he barged in, eyes wild with fear as the smoke detector shrieked overhead, unbeknownst to me. How he gripped my face like he was scared I’d disappear if he let go.
My pulse quickens at the memory, heat flooding my face, and I stir the batter harder than necessary. As if I can beat his memory into silence.
“Look who’s finally home.”
I jolt at the sound of Dylan’s voice. She breezes into the living room, unbuttoning her coat and tossing it across the couch.
“Where were you last night?” She waggles her brows and gives me a teasing smile.
But instead of giving her some half-hearted excuse, the question that’s been gnawing at me for over a week spills out.
“Do you think I settle for pieces of people?”
Her light expression falls as she studies the tension in my posture, the batter splattered on the counter, the too-tight grip I still have on the spatula.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said.” I mix the batter with more urgency.
“Claire…” Dylan reaches out, steady as ever, and gently eases the bowl from me before I ruin the batter.
“Do I just accept whatever someone’s willing to give me instead of demanding what I deserve?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she allows my question to linger between us as she scoops perfectly sized portions onto the baking sheet. Finally, her eyes float to mine.
“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, or the truth?”
I huff out a laugh. “When have you ever not told me the truth, even when I didn’t want to hear it?”
“Fair enough.” She opens the oven and places the cookies inside. Then she leans against the counter opposite me, her gaze steady and unflinching. “You know I love you like a sister.”
“As do I.”
“But you do tend to put other people’s needs before your own.
And it’s not because you’re weak or a pushover,” she adds quickly.
“I’ve seen you stand your ground when it matters.
Mostly in your job. But in relationships?
” She shrugs. “You settle. You don’t ask for more.
You accept leftovers instead of demanding a meal of your own. Like with Joshua.”
I straighten, furrowing my brow. “I didn’t want more with Joshua. I was the one who ended…whatever we were.”
“True, but how long did it take you to finally do that?”
I don’t respond. I don’t need to. She knows the answer. As do I.
It wasn’t until Joshua proposed that I realized how deep I’d allowed myself to get. By that point, we’d been sleeping together for over five years. Sure, I’d dated other people on occasion, usually only when he was also dating someone, but it never went anywhere.
“How many times did you meet someone you liked but didn’t pursue it because Joshua was going through a difficult breakup, or he was upset over his mom, or it was Tuesday?” Dylan continues. “You always put his needs ahead of your own. I love Joshua, but he took advantage of you. And you let him.”
I close my eyes, unable to come up with any argument or explanation. Because she’s right. I always dropped whatever I had to be there for Joshua. Hell, if he hadn’t proposed, I may still be there for him.
“Let me ask you this, Claire,” Dylan continues. “What do you want now?”
“I…” I shake my head, searching my brain. The room is suddenly too warm, the scent of vanilla too overpowering. “I don’t know.”
“Is that the truth?” She arches a brow. “Or are you just saying that because you’re worried it won’t work out between you and Declan?”
I whip my head toward her. “What are you talking about? We’re not—” I stammer. “I don’t—”
“Save it.” She smirks. “I know all about you two.”
I’m speechless for several long moments before finally managing to ask, “How?”
“It didn’t take much sleuthing.” She tosses a handful of chocolate chips into her mouth.
“A few days ago, I came home to grab some spices and saw your car in the driveway. But you weren’t here.
” She leans in conspiratorially. “And let’s just say…
the walls in this townhouse aren’t all that thick.
Not thick enough to drown out you screaming Declan’s name.
He must have really been giving it to you good. ”
Heat scorches my cheeks, and I cover my face with both hands. “Oh, my god.”
“That’s exactly what you said that day, too.
Except a lot louder.” Dylan grins, entirely too smug.
“I had a feeling something was going on between you two, especially when I stumbled on you guys outside the bathroom at the bar all those weeks ago. I knew your excuse about giving him ideas for Christmas presents for Joshua was bullshit, considering he was eye-fucking the shit out of you.”
“He was not.”
She silences me with a look. Then she heads to the island and climbs on a barstool, her chin propped in her hands.
“Now spill. And don’t leave out a single detail.”
I don’t immediately say anything. But after last night, I need to talk to someone about it. And Dylan already knows. I may as well confide in her like I’ve wanted to since the beginning.
So instead of keeping the truth locked away, I look into my best friend’s eyes and tell her everything…
Boston. The incredible sex. Realizing too late who he was.
The stolen glances. The smoke detector. The night we gave into our urges.
Joshua almost catching us. Tahoe. The night that wasn’t supposed to mean anything but somehow meant everything.
By the time I finish, the cookies are cooling on the counter and Dylan’s scooping more batter onto the baking sheet.
“And now?” she asks after popping the next batch of cookies into the oven.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you want now?”
I chew my bottom lip. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”
“I think you do.” She faces me, giving me a knowing look. “But you’re scared to say it out loud because of what it might mean. Just say it, Claire. It’s me. No one else is here. Tell me what you want.”
My pulse hammers in my ears as I summon the strength to give voice to my needs for the first time. “Him. I want Declan. And not in the shadows. But he doesn’t want the same thing. He—”
“You’re doing it again,” Dylan cautions.
“What?”
“Making excuses.”
“But I told him—”
“Fuck whatever you may have told him. If you want more, demand more. You deserve more than scraps. More than pieces. You deserve everything. And if Declan isn’t willing to give you that, if he’s not willing to fight for you, regardless of the obstacles…
” She shakes her head. “Then he doesn’t deserve you, Claire. But you’ll never know if you don’t ask.
“You’ve changed your mind about what you want. Maybe he’s done the same.”