Bold. Untameable. Beautiful.
- Declan
GOD.
I sink down in my chair, mind spinning. Isn’t this what I always wanted? For him to notice me? It is, but not like this. Not in apology. I don’t want flowers because he’s sorry. I want flowers because he’s thinking about me and wants to brighten my day.
As much as I wish I could put my feelings for him away, I haven’t been able to. I’m realistic enough to realize my emotions can’t just disappear overnight. I’m not built that way. I fall deep and hard. But in the past, when I was done, it was easy to move on. This time, it hasn’t been. As much as I tried to convince myself that night in the hospital cured me of my obsession, it didn’t.
But I’m not going to let myself get sucked into his orbit again. I’m done throwing myself at Declan Wilder. Despite tossing and turning in bed this morning, replaying his words in my head, ‘I was jealous.’ Not once in the weeks since that night did I expect him to tell me that. In some way, having him be a dick because he’s jealous is comforting. It soothes a part of me that was really hurt by him. The part of me that believed he said that stuff only because he didn’t respect me.
I move the flowers to the edge of my desk and focus on work. But I look at them way too many times and spend most of the day anticipating the moment my computer breaks and Declan comes to fix it. Other than the last few weeks, that’s been our pattern. Every day, without fail.
I always knew he did it on purpose. There’s an entire tech team here, and they keep everyone’s computers running smoothly. But somehow, mine got fucked every single day. And Declan was always the one to show up. Every single time. He still barely spoke to me, but the daily ritual kept me on his fucking hook. I thought it was him showing me he liked me back. I’d corner him in the hallway or his office, and he’d freeze. I’d back off, and the next day, he’d show up like clockwork.
What a fucked up dance we’ve been doing.
But today, my computer works perfectly, and I don’t see Declan. By five, I’m grumpy and actively talking myself out of walking past his office. I’m proud of myself for leaving the long way, and I’m on guard the whole way down the elevators and out the front door. I hurry to the car, bundled against the frigid October air. It’s not until I’m sitting in my car that I notice the flower under my wiper blade. I grab it, my heart fluttering pathetically in my chest. It hasn’t been here long. The petals are still soft, and undamaged. I don’t have to guess who left it, and I’m more confused than ever.
The takeout at my front door from my favorite Chinese place is the icing on the cake. I forgot that this elevator is secured for our floor and the ones above it. Only the brothers, Becca, Holly, and Evie, have access to this floor. It’s comforting and also infuriating. There’s no escaping him.
I push into the apartment, slamming the takeout on the counter. Bree rises from the couch, setting her book aside.
“Are you ok?” she asks, eyeing me as I slam doors and drawers, hunting for cutlery and plates. Bree’s done some unpacking, and I find them easily.
“Fucker bought us Chinese,” I mutter as I slam the containers onto the counter.
“That complete asshole. How dare he!” Bree gasps, pressing her hand to her chest. Her dramatics make me laugh, breaking the tension I’ve been carrying all day. “Who’s the asshole?”
“Declan. He showed up at the club last night. Then he left me flowers today, in my office and on my car, and now he bought food.” I’m whining. I can hear it. And I don’t care. Bree won’t judge me...much.
“Oh my god. Why? What did he say?” I can’t tell if her excitement is for the food or if she just wants more gossip.
“He told me that part of the reason he said all that shit was because he was jealous.”
She cackles. “Doesn’t excuse it, but it’s interesting.”
“Interesting,” I echo. And infuriating and maddening. I think I should be creeped out by the fact that my bosses, one of which happens to be a man I’m trying not to be in love with, have access to my front door. But I’m not. I’ve faced danger, horrifying, scary, real danger, and there is none of it here. They’re loud, they’re annoying, but I know for a fact that I’m safe with all of them. Physically, at least. I pick up his note for one last look before tucking it into the kitchen drawer.
Cara,
I got all your favorites.
Hope you and Bree have a relaxing weekend.
—Declan
BREE AND I SPEND THE WEEKEND UNPACKING THE REST OF OUR SHIT AND DOING WHAT WE DO A LOT OF the time, sleep. But our sleep over the weekend is different. It’s healing. No nightmares plaguing us. It’s like now that we’re in a new space, our bodies can finally relax. Our minds can finally relax.
I stay home and let my staff handle everything at the club. With the exception of the last few weeks, I’ve always gone in anyway. Even when we’re fully staffed, and now I’m wondering why. Shit is handled. But it’s almost like I don’t know what to do with my life if I’m not running full tilt at the office and at the club. But if that terrifying night has shown me anything, it’s that Bree is not replaceable. I wanna make sure that we are solid. Because if anything happened to her, I would not be ok.
By Sunday night, the dark bags under Bree’s eyes are nearly gone, and we’ve plowed through the Chinese food, all ten containers of it. She hasn’t eaten that much in weeks, and my irritation over Declan’s little gift is completely gone. We have enough energy to finish unpacking our place and then head out to have a stroll by the lake.
The brothers built this place before I came around. I’m sure they paid a pretty penny for the land, with its proximity to the lake. The views are killer. Bree and I walk around the waterfront, checking out all the little shops and restaurants. This neighborhood is a serious upgrade from where we’ve spent the last decade of our lives. The rent conversation should be interesting because I know for a fact the rent on this place would be at least half of my salary, and I get paid really fucking well.
I already know, walking into that discussion, there’s no fucking way they’ll accept full market rent from me. And I don’t have a problem with that. If someone wants to help me, I’m not gonna fight. I’ve spent too long doing shit on my own, taking care of people. I’m not going to argue with anyone wanting to give me a break.
By the time I walk into the office on Monday morning, I feel lighter and brighter. I’ve barely got my coat off when Colton barrels into my office. He’s bouncing, eyes wide, nearly vibrating with excitement.