17. Declan
DECLAN
The world spins. Grays, blacks, and tans whirl past me until I hear a thud. It takes me a minute to realize it’s the sound of my head hitting the linoleum floor.
Snarling laughter skitters along my eardrums as pain explodes behind my eyes. I attempt to stand, but something hard pushes me back down. “Not so tough now, you little bitch.”
The voice is grating against my sensitive ears, which are still ringing.
“Enough.” Another voice floats through my aching head. This one is less irritating.
“He started it, man. He always fucking does.”
“And I’m ending it.” I recognize it now as Cade’s voice. He wasn’t at the bar when I first got here, when I spotted Travis Miller nursing a beer, surrounded by his sycophantic band of merry men, and went in for the kill.
There’s some shuffling of feet and the sound of a door slamming in the distance, and then an arm reaches out to lift me up.
As soon as I open my eyes, my vision blurs.
I suppose it doesn’t help that I chugged an entire flask of whiskey as soon as I walked in.
At first, I was worried that it would dull the pain and what would be the sense in that?
Pain is the whole point. But after last night, I needed more than one vice.
Resisting Skylar Galloway when she was nearly naked, offering herself to me with no strings, no feelings, just sex, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
The problem is that I want the strings and I have the feelings.
As much as I want to fuck her until we both collapse from exhaustion, I have to wait.
I was hanging by a fucking thread in the middle of the night.
I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go check on her, but I heard her outside my room before I even reached the door. I made it only three steps down the hallway before I turned around and slammed my door, opting to fuck her out of my head with my hand instead. It’s what I’ve grown used to, after all.
But when she came to the door and I heard her breath catch?
All my resolve snapped, and I did the only thing I could think that wouldn’t completely ruin us.
I wanted her to see the affect she had on me so she would know that I never stopped wanting her, but when I saw the lust in her eyes, I knew she needed to feel good too.
“Shit, Dec.” Cade’s voice snaps me out of it. His tone isn’t judgmental, just concerned.
“You’ve never lectured me before, old man. Don’t start now.”
“I’m not lecturing you. I’m pissed you got blood all over my damn floor.” I let out a broken laugh that turns into a cough as he slings my arm over his shoulder and walks my unsteady ass over to a bar stool.
“You mean your moldy, beer-stained floor?”
“Beer comes out better than blood.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” I mumble, and he drops a glass of water onto the bar. I bring the cloudy glass to my lips, taking a small sip. It’s metallic at first as the blood on my lip mixes with the room- temperature liquid.
I take another sip, and Cade leans in closer.
“You know when the demons stop chasing you?” His voice is low, deep, tinged with the kind of rasp that comes with years of cigarette smoke.
“When you stop runnin’.” He taps his finger on the bar twice and nods behind me.
I don’t take his kindness for granted. He’s honestly the closest thing I’ve had to a father figure who actually gives a shit, but it’s probably too late for his kindness to make a difference.
I shift around on the stool and, fuck, it’s Luke again. This time he has a friend who looks like he belongs anywhere but here. From what I can tell, anyway. My right eye is still a little blurry.
“Declan.” He says my name like an exasperated parent who just walked in on his kid coloring on the walls. “What happened this time?”
“Nothing some whiskey can’t fix.” I dig into my pocket for my flask but it’s gone.
“Looks like you’re fresh out,” Luke’s friend says.
I blink a few more times, attempting to clear the blurriness from my eyes.
That’s when the cloudy figure turns into a person.
He’s tall, muscular but lean; he has dark, almost black hair, a chiseled chin that looks like it was cut from stone, and a bored expression like this is all beneath him.
I finally recognize him as Nate Caldwell, Emory’s brother.
We went to college together. His dad owns some cybersecurity company and is friends with my dad, which automatically makes me suspicious of him.
We’ve run into each other on a few occasions over the years, none of which have incited trust.
I click my tongue, running it over my bloodstained teeth before I suck my lip ring into my mouth.
I remember the day I got the piercing like it was yesterday.
I made Skylar come with me to the mall, and I pretended to be nervous so she’d hold my hand.
I would have done just about anything to feel her skin against mine back then.
I guess not much has changed.
Nate clears his throat.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask just to be a dick, and he predictably rolls his eyes.
“Right, well, that’s my cue then.” I give them both a mock salute as I stumble off the stool, but Luke grabs my bicep to steady me.
“You’re not getting on that bike.” Luke nods toward the door. “If only for the bike’s sake.”
“I think I can manage,” I say, patting his chest.
“Already swiped his keys,” Cade calls from the other side of the bar, and I roll my eyes. “I’ll have one of the guys follow me and drop it off after closing.”
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Come on.” Luke has that stupid blue-eyed Superman look on his face again. “Nate drove so we can all fit in his fancy SUV.”
I want to keep fighting him. I really do, but I’m so fucking tired so instead, I hop off the stool and follow them out.
“You wanna talk about it?” Luke asks as soon as we’re out of the parking lot.
“I could not think of anything I want less.” Nate snorts a laugh and tries to cover it with his fist. “At least Caldwell thinks I’m funny.”
“So now you remember me?”
“I remember your sister.”
Nate slams on the brakes a few yards away from the yellow stop light in front of us.
It turns red and both men turn toward the back seat.
Luke’s eyes are icy until a few seconds pass and they soften.
Nate still looks murderous. “He’s all talk,” Luke assures Nate.
“This is what he does. It’s why he looks like someone mistook him for a punching bag. ”
Nate takes a moment to look me over before he relaxes a little, accelerating when the light turns green.
“Whatever. I’m taking a nap,” I announce, and I start to rest my head on the cool leather seat when I feel a trickle slide down my chin. “Fuck.”
“Here.” Luke hands me a piece of crumpled paper.
I open it to see it’s one of his fliers with all the tags ripped off.
He must have come back to replace them with new ones.
Good for him. He deserves the business. What he doesn’t deserve, however, is the right to explain my behavior, so fuck him for that.
When I hold the paper to my lip, the blood immediately soaks through.
I dig my hand into my jacket pocket, not that I normally keep tissues there, but who knows.
My fingers scrape against something metal, and I instantly know what it is.
Still, I pinch it between my thumb and forefinger, pulling it out of my pocket so it catches the sunlight streaming in from the window.
I’m not sure if I’m more angry or relieved to find Skylar’s ring in my pocket. I didn’t put it on her finger last night. I left it on her nightstand as a peace offering before I passed out on her floor.
A sardonic laugh starts to bubble out of me because how could I be so ignorant? There is no peace when it comes to me and Skylar. Not until we figure out if there’s anything left of us from the past.