Below Deck

“Mackenzie,” he whispers, saying my name again.

I ignore the flutters in my stomach that just the sound of his voice produces. I ignore the way my heart beats faster by having him so close to me I can reach out and touch him. And I ignore the way he’s looking at me with a mixture of apprehension and nerves and sorrow.

His eyes are bloodshot and tired-looking, and his usually clean-shaven face is covered with dark stubble, which makes him look better than ever. I hate that I want to slide my hands down the side of his face and feel the rough scratch of his facial hair against my palms. I hate that I want to run my fingers under his tired eyes and ask him what’s wrong. I hate that I can’t stop myself from caring.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing here? How…how did you get in my room?” I ask angrily, crossing my arms in front of me and hating the way my voice sounds scratchy and hesitant instead of strong and pissed off.

He steps out onto the balcony with me and I drop my arms to my sides, my back smacking into the railing behind me. I’m cursing myself for coming out here and for him being in my space and not giving me anywhere to go to escape him.

“I got here right after you and your dad left for dinner. I know the owner of the hotel and he gave me a key to your room,” Declan tells me quietly.

My eyes narrow when he runs one hand nervously through his hair, and I see the ends that are now sticking up all over the place are still slightly damp.

“Did you seriously take a shower in my room?” I ask angrily.

He shrugs, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans before smiling at me with those fucking dimples in his cheeks.

“I kind of had a rough couple of days. I ran off the ship earlier without thinking. Ben brought me a change of clothes, and I knew you’d be gone for a while,” he explains.

So that explains all the questions from Ben about how long I’d be gone from the room tonight. And my father must have been in on it as well since he was in such a hurry to get me to come back here by myself and leave him to his “walk” along the beach.

Fucking traitors.

“Great. Hope you enjoyed yourself. You can leave now,” I tell him, pushing off the railing to walk around him.

His hands quickly come out of his pockets and he wraps them around my upper arms to stop me. I immediately shrug them off, jerking my body back and away from him. He doesn’t get the hint and he doesn’t get out of my way. He stalks towards me until I have no other choice but to move, walking backwards until I’m bumping into the railing again.

His hands grab onto the railing on either side of me, caging me in, and his body is so close to me I can feel the heat from it as his chest brushes against mine.

“I’m sorr—”

“You’re sorry, you were wrong, and I was right?” I cut him off with a humorless laugh. “Save it. You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything. It was just a fun vacation fling, remember? It’s done. My vacation is over, and now we can both get back to our lives.”

I watch with sick fascination as his Adam’s apple bobs while he takes a nervous swallow. I hold my breath, wanting him to say the words I’ve been dreaming about even though I want to smack my hand across his face for how much he hurt me by letting me walk away.

“I never should have said what I did. About your life and not needing to work. I never should have let you go. You have no idea how awful I feel now that…”

He trails off and it suddenly hits me. Why he’s here and why he felt the need to come and find me and apologize. He knows. I can’t even bring myself to be happy that he admitted he never should have let me go. He’s only sorry and he only wants me now because now he knows we’re more alike than he ever thought.

“Oh, my God. You son of a bitch,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears as I stare up at him, cursing myself for thinking for even one second that he changed his mind without knowing all of the details of my life. That he realized he made a mistake before he knew just how shitty my life really is.

I shove my hands against his chest, but he doesn’t move. I do it again, smacking them as hard as I can against him, wanting to get away from him before I make an even bigger fool of myself.

“Get away from me!” I sob, pushing and shoving the solid brick wall in front of me that is Declan, who refuses to budge.

His hands remain locked tightly around the railing on either side of me and he doesn’t say a word as I smack my hands against his chest, letting all the anger and frustration and pain come screaming out of me.

“So, you heard the news. You found out my life isn’t as picture perfect as you made it out to be in your head and suddenly decided I was worth the trouble? You suddenly realized now that I’m not a spoiled, rich princess you could have me? FUCK YOU!” I shout, the tears falling harder and faster down my face.

Declan quickly lets go of the railing and grabs my wrists, holding them between us and stopping me from continuing to beat the hell out of him with my hands and my words when he finally speaks.

“No! That’s not it at all,” he argues, holding my wrists tighter and pulling me against him with a rough yank. “Yes, I saw the news this morning, but that’s not why I’m here. That’s not what made me try and drink myself to death ever since I let you walk away from me, and that’s not what made me hate myself and replay all of the things I should have said to you every second of the last forty-eight hours!”