Chapter 2
Chapter Two
DECLAN
The second Sutton walks through the door, I know something's wrong.
She won't look at me.
She's doing that thing where she focuses on anything else—her keys, her bag, the spot on the wall behind my head—anywhere except my eyes.
"Hey." I stand up from the couch. "Food's getting cold."
"Sorry. Long shift." She sets her bag down carefully.
"Come eat. I got extra spring rolls."
"I'm not really hungry."
"You said you didn't eat before work."
"I had a granola bar."
"That doesn't count." I pick up the takeout containers. "Come on. I’ve missed you.”
I picked up extra Chinese as a special treat for her. I loved doing little things for her, and spring rolls were the way to her heart. Seemed like a very small price to pay to make her smile.
"Declan, I need to talk to you."
The tone stops me cold.
That's not an “I-had-a-bad-day-at-work” tone. That's a “something-is-seriously-wrong” tone.
I quickly do a mental replay. There is no way I can be accused of messing around with Bree or any other woman. I went to class. Practice. Home. Period. No hints of impropriety.
"Okay." I set down the food. "What's going on?"
She finally looks at me. Her eyes are red. She's been crying.
"Your father came to see me this morning."
The words don't make sense at first. "What?"
"I came home to change before work, and he stopped by. I thought he was here for you, but he said he wanted to talk to me.”
My blood goes cold. "He came to the house?"
"Yeah."
"What did he want?"
"He offered me money," she says quietly. "To break up with you. To move out and stay away from you."
"He what?"
"One hundred thousand dollars." Her voice is flat. Emotionless. "And a job interview at Quantico. The FBI forensics lab."
I can't process what she's saying. My father offered her money? That makes zero sense.
"That's insane."
She pulls out a business card and hands it to me.
I take it and read it.
FBI Laboratory Division. Quantico.
There's a handwritten note on the back.
My father actually contacted the FBI. Actually used his connections to try to bribe my girlfriend into leaving me.
"That motherfucker." I crumple the card in my fist.
She sighs.
"That manipulative, controlling asshole!" I throw the crumpled card across the room. "He came to our house, waited until I wasn't there, and ambushed you with this bullshit!"
"I know you're angry."
"Angry? I'm freaking furious!" I'm pacing now, my hands clenching and unclenching. "He threatened you. Tried to buy you off like you're some—some obstacle he can just throw money at!"
"He said I'm a distraction. That you're losing focus because of me."
"That's not true!"
"Isn't it?" She looks at me directly now. "You broke your hand defending me. You lost that game. Everyone on campus is talking about how I'm ruining your career."
I run my hands through my hair. "I broke my finger—not my hand. Do you know how many times I’ve broken a finger? It’s not your fault."
"Your father said the relationship is doomed anyway. That you're going to Seattle or somewhere far away. That long distance won't work with your career demands. I'm holding you back from your potential."
"He doesn't know anything about us!"
"Doesn't he? Declan, look at what's happened since I moved in. The drama with Bree. The fight with Cole. The constant scrutiny. Your dad's not wrong about me being a distraction."
"You're not a distraction. You're my girlfriend. There's a difference."
"Is there? When every problem seems to trace back to me?"
I stop pacing and look at her.
She's exhausted. Defeated. Like she's already decided this is a losing battle.
"What are you saying?" I ask carefully.
"I'm saying…" She takes a shaky breath. "I'm saying I considered it."
The words feel like actual physical punches. Time slows. All of my senses are suddenly heightened.
"You considered taking the money?"
"I considered whether your father was right. Whether you'd be better off without me."
"That's not the same thing."
"Isn't it?" Tears are streaming down her face now. "Declan, that's Quantico. That's the dream job. The job I never thought I'd have a shot at. And the money—do you know what I could do with that money?"
"So you actually thought about leaving me for money?" My voice comes out like I’ve been gargling glass.
"No!" She steps toward me. "Not for the money. To stop being the thing that ruins your life."
The distinction stops me cold.
"What?"
"Declan, I don't belong in your world. I don't have the background, the connections, or the lifestyle.
I work at a restaurant. I can't afford the things that are going to be normal for you.
" She's sobbing now. "And maybe the kindest thing I could do is get out of your way.
Let you focus on your career without me constantly creating problems."
"You think you're ruining my life?"
"I think I'm holding you back. I think your father is right that this relationship will end eventually anyway. And maybe it's better to end it now before I cost you more than a broken finger and a lost game."
Something breaks inside me.
She actually believes this. Believes she's a burden. Believes she's hurting me just by existing in my life.
I close the distance between us in two strides.
"You're not ruining my life," I say fiercely. "You're the best thing in my life. The only thing that makes any of this worthwhile."
"Declan—"
"No. Listen to me." I cup her face, forcing her to look at me. "My father is a manipulative asshole who thinks he can control every aspect of my life. He thinks love is a weakness. That relationships are distractions. That nothing matters except career, money, and legacy."
"But he's not entirely wrong."
"He is wrong. About everything." I brush away her tears with my thumbs. "You're not holding me back. You're not a distraction. You're not a burden, an obstacle, or any of the other things he tried to make you believe."
"Then why does everything keep going wrong?"
"Because life is complicated. Because people like Bree and Cole are manipulative assholes.” I press my forehead against hers. "But none of that is your fault."
"I feel like it is."
"I know. And I hate that. I hate that you're carrying guilt for things you didn't do. I hate that people are blaming you for my choices. I hate that my father made you feel like you're not enough."
"Maybe I'm not."
"You are." I kiss her softly. "You're everything."
I kiss her again.
“I don't care what anyone says." I pull back to look at her. "I love you. I choose you. And I'm not going to let him or anyone else make you feel like you don't belong in my life."
She nods as more tears slide down her cheeks.
I kiss her harder this time and make sure she gets my message loud and clear.
She responds immediately. Her hands slide up my back and to the back of my head, pulling me closer.
I need her to understand. Need her to feel how much I love her. How much she means to me.
I walk her backward until she hits the wall. My hands slide under her shirt, finding warm skin.
"Declan," she breathes against my mouth.
"I need you." My voice is rough. Desperate. "I need you to know you belong with me."
"I know. I get it.”
"Do you? Because it sounds like you're considering leaving."
"I'm not…I wouldn't—" She gasps as my hand finds her breast. "I just wanted to be honest about what he offered."
"And I want to be honest about what I'm offering." I kiss down her neck. "My life. My future. Everything I have. That's what I'm offering you."
She moans softly.
I pull her shirt over her head. "Only you."
She helps me strip off my shirt. Then we're kissing again, frantically, as if we can somehow prove through touch what words can't convey.
I pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist.
"Bedroom," she manages.
"Too far."
I carry her to the couch and lay her on the cushions. I quickly take off her jeans and underwear, needing to feel her, needing to be close.
The guys are all out. They’ll be gone for a while. We have the house to ourselves, and I plan on taking full advantage.
"You're not leaving me," I say as I position myself over her. "You're not taking his money. You're not letting him win."
"I don't want to leave you."
"Then don't." I slide my hand between her thighs, finding her already wet. "Stay. Choose me. Choose us."
"I am choosing you." She arches into my touch. "I just…I needed you to know what he offered. What he said."
"I know now." I push two fingers inside her, and she moans. "Screw everyone who thinks you're not good enough for me. You are mine, Sutton. Do you hear me?"
"Yes!”
"You're too good for me. You're brilliant and strong, and you actually care about people. You don't play games. You don't manipulate situations. You're real."
"I love you, too." Her hands grip my shoulders. "I love you so much."
I move over her and push inside her, both of us groaning from the sensation.
"This is where you belong," I say against her ear. "Right here. With me."
"Yes." She wraps her legs around me tighter. "Yes."
I set a rhythm that's almost frantic. Like if I can just get deep enough, close enough, I can make her understand. Make her believe.
"You're not a burden," I say with each thrust. "You're not a distraction. You're not holding me back."
"Declan."
"Say it. Tell me you know that."
Her breath hitches. "I'm trying to believe it."
"Try harder." I change the angle, hitting that spot that makes her cry out. "Because I need you. Not in spite of everything that's happened, but because of who you are."
She's close. I can feel her tensing around me.
She cries out my name as the orgasm crashes through her. The sensation pushes me over the edge, and I follow, groaning into her neck as I find my release.
We stay like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other.
"Don't leave me," I whisper. "Please don't leave me."
"I won't." Her arms tighten around me. "I promise I won't."
But even as she says it, I can feel the tension in her body and the doubt that hasn't quite disappeared.
We eventually move to my bedroom, clean up, and get under the covers.
She curls against my side, her head on my chest.
"I'm calling my father tomorrow," I say into the darkness. "Telling him to stay away from you."
"He's just trying to protect you."
"He's trying to control me. There's a difference."
“I don’t want to add any more stress to your already full plate.”
"Sutton." I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. "I don't have all the answers. I’m still determining how we'll navigate my career, the distance, and other factors. But I know I want to try. With you."
She nods, but I can see the doubt still lingering in her eyes.
I lie awake long after her breathing evens out into sleep.
Because I felt it. That moment of hesitation. That flicker of doubt.
She's still considering it. Maybe not consciously. Maybe not admitting it to herself.
But the seed is planted.
I don't know how to compete with one hundred thousand dollars and a dream job. I’m not sure I want to have to compete.
She has to choose to stay for me and me alone.