Chapter Twelve
Declan
Ican’t help but smile as Phoenix walks into the living room and sits beside me before taking her feet and digging them under me to warm her ice cold toes.
Every single ounce of me wants to push her feet away and move to a different couch, but I let her warm her icicle phalanges to her heart’s content because she’s suffering enough with this pregnancy.
“You’re touching me, Nix.” I tell her in a monotone voice.
“But Deccc. My toes are so cold, and Kieran’s at work.” She pouts.
This is why God never gave me biological sisters.
He knew I would crack like an egg on the side of a frying pan at their first request. Even though the entire time she’s touching me, I have to put continuous effort into pushing the invisible hands away from my throat.
None of my sisters-in-law trust men easily at all, and the fact that they all trust me enough to be themselves is the biggest compliment I could ever get.
“Fine, but only for a few minutes.” I grumble.
She snuggles back into the side of the couch and smiles in victory. God, Kieran has his hands full with her.
“How are you feeling? How’s baby boy doing today?”
She beams at me, “I haven’t thrown up all day today. Kieran’s going to be so happy when I tell him. Baby is okay I guess. He isn’t kicking my lungs or anything crazy if that’s what you’re asking.”
I shake my head in amusement. “How much water have you drank so far?”
“Declan, don’t ruin our moment like that.” She glares at me.
The laugh that bubbles out of me is unprompted. “I’ll be right back.”
Standing up, I grab the thick blanket that Clara keeps on the back of the couch and cover her up with it.
Before she can protest, I quickly make my way into the kitchen and make her a large tumbler of ice water.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I’m just about to text Kieran to come get his gremlin when I notice a missed text from earlier.
Chaos: What are you doing?
Yeah, I changed his name, mind your business.
Declan: Taking care of my sister-in-law while my brother’s gone. How are you doing after last night?
Chaos: I’m fine. Everyone’s okay, so that’s the most important part.
Declan: How many times have you been by their houses today?
Chaos: Fuck you.
Chaos: Only four.
Chaos: Each.
I can’t help but shake my head and laugh. Always the protector.
Declan: That’s what I thought. What are you doing for the rest of the day?
Chaos: Well, I’m at Lee’s now helping her out with something, then nothing.
Declan: Text me when you get home.
Chaos: Deal.
We need to have some tough conversations about the past if we’re going to build back up whatever it is we lost, and I’m done dancing around the hard shit.
* * *
Jakob texted me about twenty minutes ago to tell me he was home.
After making sure Rowan and Kieran were home with the girls and kids so they weren’t left unprotected, I left.
Deciding to check on Mac and Lee on the way, my truck pulls in front of their house.
I’ll just check on them real quick before continuing down the street to Jakob’s.
Knocking on the door, I hear a gruff, “Go away.”
Laughing, I knock louder, “Let me in, asshole.”
It’s then I hear it, Lee’s soft moan from what has to be literally on the other side of the door, followed by Mac shushing her and them both snickering.
“You’re both gross.”
“Sorry, Dec. Bye!’ Lee yells back at me.
I don’t wait around to see if they say anything else.
Instead I jump in my truck and drive a dozen houses down until I’m in front of the light blue house with the white shutters.
Taking a second to calm my nerves, I shake out my arms and push all my shitty thoughts away.
He doesn’t need to know everything, but we do need to talk about what happened five years ago.
Walking up to the front porch, I remind myself not to turn around. I know what I want, and I think he wants it too. There’s only one way to find out. I’m never going to get the answers I want if I run.
I’ve known I was bisexual since I was pretty young.
People act like it’s such a shock because, according to the ignorant stereotypes, I don’t ‘look bi.’ It pisses me off every time someone says it.
What does that even mean? What am I supposed to look like?
I’ve been with both men and women over the years, and it’s never been a big deal.
My parents knew before they passed, and Rowan knows.
I smile to myself thinking about when I told Rowan.
We were about fourteen and sixteen and were in the middle of playing video games.
I knew I needed to talk to Rowan about it before it somehow got out at school.
My heart beats out of my chest as I glance over at my big brother for what has to be the tenth time in just as many minutes.
“Declan, you’re distracting me, and you’re thinking so loud it’s hurting my head. What’s up?”
Well, I guess it’s do or die.
“Uh…. What would you say if one of our brothers were bi?” He pauses the game and turns his entire attention to me. I can feel the sweat beading on the back of my neck as I wait for him to answer.
“Are they also into incest?” He asks, his lip curling in disgust. Fuck, he’s disgusted by me.
“Uh, nope. Just like both girls and guys.” I stammer out.
Roe smiles and turns back to the game while shrugging, “Then that’s none of my business. You trying to tell me something?”
“Ye- yeah, actually.”
He turns back to me. “Are you going to marry a dude?”
I shrug in confusion, “I don’t know, maybe.”
He nods while unpausing the game and playing again, “Sweet. That’ll be an epic wedding.”
I reluctantly begin playing again as well. “That’s it? You don’t care?”
“As long as you’re happy that’s all I care about, Dec. For the record, that’s all Da and Ma are going to care about too.”
Then, just like the conversation never happened, we settle back into our video game.
The ease with which Rowan just accepted my confession made me look up to him even more than I already did.
He was there when I told my parents, to which they asked why I brought it back up, as if we were about to throw down in the kitchen.
They also didn’t care as long as I was happy and didn’t feel like I had to hide who I was from them.
I never told my little brothers, but I’ve never hidden it either.
I’m a private person by default, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t know.
At the same time, it also wouldn’t surprise me if they did know.
I don’t even get the chance to knock on Jake’s front door before he opens it and pulls me inside by the front of my shirt.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask while pushing his hands off of me.
“Did anyone see you come here?” He asks. His blue eyes wide with panic.
Now if we’re going to talk about men who don’t know what their sexuality is, it’s time to cue Jakob Emmett Fischer to center stage. I don’t like to guess or question people’s preferences, never have, never will. However, this is one confused motherfucker. I’m getting ahead of myself, though.
“No, but my truck with the license plate ‘DByrne’ might be a clue that I’m here.”
He seems more jumpy than usual. “Move it into the garage.”
“I’m not moving it into the garage. You move it into the garage.” I hold out my keys to him and after staring me down for a few seconds, he storms out of the house grumbling to himself.
While he’s moving my vehicle I begin poking around his house.
It’s set up a lot like Mac’s house. A foyer that leads directly into a living room with hallways to the left and right beside that is a stairway that’ll lead you to what I’m assuming are two bedrooms and a loft area.
To the right is a dining room, and if you follow that room it’ll bring you to a half bath and then the open concept kitchen.
His walls are a light gray, his furniture black and sleek, and the picture frames that litter the downstairs are all gold.
Part of me wonders what his bedroom looks like. What did he do with the other bedrooms? I want to explore more but before I’m even able to get a good look at the pictures in the living room, he walks back inside and hangs my keys up on a hook to the side of his front door.
“Declan, you have to be more careful than that. What if someone saw you here?”
“What is your problem? Then they saw me. Who gives a flying fuck?”
“I do! I care a lot, actually.” He roars while stalking up to me.
“Why? We’re thirty years old, why are we still hiding shit?” I throw up my hands in frustration.
He runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the short strands at his nape, but he’s not answering me. He’s clammed up and his teeth assault his bottom lip, which makes my eye twitch. Without thinking it through, I reach out and use my thumb to pry his bottom lip from his teeth’s relentless grip.
“Stop.” I tell him quietly, my thumb not leaving its place directly under his plump bottom lip.
We lock eyes for a minute, neither of us doing more than standing frozen and searching the other’s eyes.
I see so many emotions swirling in his: indecision, anxiety, some anger, but most intriguing is the lust hiding in the depths of his baby blues.
It’s all the confirmation I need as my lips crash onto his.