A heavy stone settles in the pit of my stomach, the force of the impact creates rippling waves that churn its contents. The images strewn across the floor are burned into my mind, making it difficult to process the sights and sounds that surround me as Declan speeds toward our destination. His knuckles are white, the only give away to the boiling tension he holds inside. In my peripheral, I can see his deliberate glances behind us. Knowing he is doing so to ensure we are not followed only fuels the anxiety threatening to consume me. It’s only natural for me to question when this nightmare will end, but the real question should be how does it end? It seems the harder I try to make sense of the situation, the more confused I am. I’m waiting for the moment a big black hole opens up and swallows me. No longer able to control my emotions, a slow tear breaks free, creating a sparkling path down my flushed cheek. The previously silent Declan takes notice and places my small hand in his much larger one.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” are the only words he speaks the rest of the drive. This is in no way his fault, but I remain silent. There is plenty of time to argue with him about this. For right now, I need the silence to work out whatever fucked up plan I can come up with.
Deep in my own thoughts, I am startled by the crunch of gravel under the tires. Looking out the window into the darkness, I can make out a driveway, heavy with lush greenery. It’s gorgeous and I can’t wait to see it when the sun rises. Declan steers around a slight curve and the headlights beam, framing an elegant beach house in a yellow glow. The crisp white siding complements the navy-blue shutters and dark red door, giving the house a warm, welcoming feel. From the driveway, I can see the waves roll in, beautifully lit by the moonlight. I can already feel the peaceful atmosphere wrap around me and envelop me like a blanket.
Declan kills the engine and simply stares at the steering wheel for a long moment. I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to the punch.
“Let’s get inside. We need to get you cleaned up. It’s been one hell of a day.” With that, he steps out. The glass in my sore feet prevents me from trying to jump out of the Jeep myself. When I open the door, Declan wraps a thick arm under my knees and another behind my back, lifting me from the seat. The sound of the waves breaking shore greets us as the crisp ocean air prickles my sensitive skin.
As we approach the front door, I realize this house is locked down like Fort Knox. In the dark, I can see little red lights on various angles of the house. A tell-tale sign of surveillance cameras. Focusing on the door, Declan punches a code into the keypad and a series of muffled clicks sound before he turns the knob and we enter as the lights come on inside.
“Motion sensor,” he divulges, as if reading my mind.
The interior is much more comfortable looking than I would have anticipated for such a grand house. White marble floors glisten throughout the bottom floor, giving the visual illusion of walking on a cloud.
I wiggle slightly, trying to get Declan to lower me to the ground, but he has other ideas. Ignoring my silent request, he carries me up a winding staircase into what I assume is the master bedroom. The room is decorated in layers of plush fabrics, airy drapery, and a massive bed that faces a wall of glass overlooking the beach. Unfortunately, I am not given enough time to appreciate the view before he turns into another entryway.
Oh. My. God.
This is the bathroom that dreams are made of. A large porcelain tub rests against the glass wall that continues from the other room. A separate shower with at least eight jets sits opposite the room, and there is an opulent marble top double vanity, the likes of which I have never seen.
Declan finally sets me down and a shiver travels up my spine as the backs of my thighs hit the cool stone counter. Declan’s warm hands brace themselves on my hips and he pulls me into his chest, his arms engulfing me. With my head pressed against him, I can hear the rhythm of his heart. It’s a strong and steady beat, one that soothes me. I breathe in the masculine woodsy scent and focus on the sensation, my pulse lowering to match his.
“What happened tonight should never have happened. I should have never left.” His voice rumbles, vibrating through his chest.
Reluctantly pulling away, I lift my head and look him in the eyes. How could he possibly think any of this is his fault? Now I’m starting to get pissed. Aside from Manny, Declan has been the only man in my life who gave a damn about me. I refuse to allow him to believe, even for a second, that anything Mark has done is because he failed me. The foreboding in his tone struck a nerve, causing me to take a deep breath to calm my frustration before I respond.
“Let’s get one thing straight. This is in no way your fault. It’s his and his alone. I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter where I am. If he wants me, he will find me. My job is to figure out what to do when that happens.” My eyes narrow slightly, but never leave his, hoping that I can emit more confidence than I feel. Mark is my husband. He’s my problem to fix and I refuse to sit back and watch as innocent people are dragged into a mess I created.
Refusing to hold my stare, he lowers his head to the floor and sighs heavily.
“Let me look at your feet,” he says finally as he kneels on the floor below me. I watch him closely as he inspects my injuries. His forehead creases adorably between his brows in concentration before he gets up silently and rummages through cabinets looking for what I assume is a first aid kit. His movements seem so relaxed, betraying the haunted look previously in his eyes. My sight wanders from Declan to the moonlit ocean view before me. In the distance, I can see a buoy bobbing gently in the water. It is in that moment I realize just how much I have in common with that buoy. I’ve spent my whole life looking off into the distance and the freedom it provides. It doesn’t matter how hard the waves get thrown at me, how calm the sea is, or the movement of the tide. I simply float there, waiting out the storm. But unlike that buoy, I have the power to cut the strings and drift on to a better life. And that’s what I’m going to do. This renewed sense of determination is what will keep me going when I want to quit. I’ve thought about it a lot, but Martha is right. I am stronger than this. Stronger than him. There must be so much more to this life and I plan to finish my days exploring exactly what it has to offer.
Realizing I am smiling at myself like a loon, I reluctantly drag my thoughts back to the present. Having found what he needs, he resumes his position on the floor.
“This is probably going to hurt a little.” I simply nod in acknowledgement. From the small kit, he pulls out tweezers, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and bandages. A smile tugs at my lips as visions of a muscle-bound, tattooed Declan prepping for surgery invade my thoughts. Under different circumstances, this scenario would have been comical.
Carefully cradling my foot, piece by piece, Declan pulls small shards of glass from my feet and places them into a small trash can. His hands heat my skin and I can feel the blush creep its way up my body. The way he holds me is so delicate, as if he’s afraid he could break me, and his tenderness belies his size and general demeanor. That’s the part I should fear… Have I given him the power to break me? That is one very important lesson I have learned in this life; only you can give someone the power to control how you feel. It’s a thought I do not care to finish because I am afraid of the answer.
I continue to watch him work with intense fascination. Having Declan on his knees before me, still fully dressed in tactical gear, is yet another thing he has unwittingly done that makes me feel empowered. The pain barely registers as I am entirely lost in the allure of him. The lines of his face, the warmth of his hands, the gracefulness of his movements—every thought raises more questions. I don’t know much about the man Declan really is.
“HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS BATMAN!” Aw! Aw! Aw! It feels like someone just torched the bottom of my feet with gasoline.
“I told you it was going to hurt,” he sputters between chuckles.
“I’m glad you find this funny. Fucker.” I snap, shooting a fake glare at him, which only causes him to laugh harder.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He surrenders with a smile firmly in place as he begins to wrap my feet in gauze. “I figured it would be better if I didn’t warn you.” A slight dimple appears on his left cheek, making the hard lines of his face slightly boyish. It’s an adorable look, one I imagine has broken many hearts. My thoughts threaten to make the moment heavier than I am ready for, so I try to focus on something more neutral.
“Whose place is this? It must have cost a fortune.”
“It belongs to Briggs. It’s part of his inheritance. He doesn’t come out here much, though.” He says with a far off look in his eye. His demeanor tells me there is a story as to why but it’s not my place to ask.
“Well, it’s beautiful. I couldn’t imagine wanting to leave a place like this.” My words are sincere. This home is breathtaking. He finishes bandaging my feet and silently reaches out to inspect my hand. His expression darkens as the lines of his face go rigid. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he begins to clean the wound.
“How did this happen? He didn’t get inside the house.” He pauses momentarily, a look of doubt on his beautiful face. “Did he?” he asks, and his voice drips with uncertainty.
“Oh God no. I can’t fully blame that on him. I panicked and cut myself with the knife. It really is okay. I don’t think it’s that deep.” I try to pull my hand back, but his grip tightens just slightly. The sensation of my hand in his sends an electrical pulse up my arm, almost as if I were shocked.
“Please, just let me take care of you,” he pleads, as deep green eyes look up at me from his knelt position. His request causes my throat to tighten. Unable to form words, I relax my arm, silently relenting. Neither of us speak as he works. I watch him closely, unsure if the concentration on his face is simply for the sake of the wound or to keep his mind off other things.
When he is finished doctoring all my wounds, he places his hands on my hips and slowly lowers my feet to the floor.
“Thank you,” is all I can muster at this point. I am beyond the point of exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. With one arm snuggly around my waist, he helps me out of the bathroom. My feet ache, making each step difficult. The earlier adrenaline has worn off, leaving nothing but the heaviness of the situation.
“I think we could both use some sleep,” he declares as he directs me toward the bed. “I left our bags in the Jeep. I will be right back.”
I watch his retreating back, staring at the doorway much longer than is acceptable. Snapping out of my trance, I weigh my options. I could turn myself over to police and hope a judge sees through Mark’s lies, I can keep running, or I can surrender. Even in the very unlikely event a judge and jury take mercy on me, I shot a man with an unregistered weapon. If I run, how long will I be running? Will he ever give up? I am not sure what kind of life I could ever have if I’m constantly on the run. Surrender is not an option. I’d rather die than be touched by him again. An involuntary shiver slithers its way up my spine at the thought.
“Sunshine, are you cold?” Declan asks, causing me to startle.
“No, I’m just really tired.” His eyes scrutinize my expression carefully, but he says nothing.
“Here is your bag. Do you think you will be able to change by yourself with the bandages?”
“Yeah, I will be fine. Thank you.”
Grabbing the bag, I hobble into the bathroom and quickly change into a pair of capri-length yoga pants and a tank top. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I gather my things and limp back toward the bedroom. Declan stands as I enter the room, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. After the night he’s had, I can only imagine how he feels.
Leaning down to place a tender kiss in my hair, he nearly whispers, “goodnight, Sunshine.” Pulling back to face me, he adds, “I will be in the guest room just down the hall if you need anything.”
Fear and anxiety begin to bubble deep inside my chest. The thought of being alone in this large house generates unwanted thoughts to the point of feeling paralyzed. Panic seizes the air from my lungs as I plead.
“Please stay.” The words come out haggard, but he stops mid stride and turns to face me. Concern creases his forehead as he crosses the room and settles in beside me. Taking my hand in his calloused one, his eyes wander my face as if he were trying to read my thoughts.
“I thought you would want some time alone after everything that happened. Leaving you is the last thing I want to do.”
I allow the warmth of his words to surround me, soaking up every bit of affection he has to offer. I expected it to be difficult for me to trust or get close to a man after Mark, but Declan has shattered every preset notion I had. Time and time again he proves me wrong. Before I can overthink the situation, I lean in, melding my lips with his. Declan places a hand on either side of my face, threading his fingers into my hair. His movement deepens the kiss, erasing every dark thought from my mind. All too soon, he pulls away.
“I’m gonna go change out of this shit. Get comfortable and yell if you need me.”
His kiss drained the last bit of energy from my body. I curl myself into the most luxurious bed I have ever slept on. The sheets are cool on my skin and made of the softest cotton. I lie there, listening to the faint sounds of the ocean, cradled on a cloud and feeling safer than I ever thought possible. Only then do I allow the heavy drapery of sleep to take me.
My body feels beat after the shit that went down today. Ridding myself of the heavy clothing, I stretch out my aching muscles. Tension has snaked its way up my back. Resting the palms of my hands against the cool marble of the vanity, I lower my head, leaning my body weight against it. The darker my thoughts become, the tighter my muscles knot. I’m wound up tight and on the verge of snapping. Something I have found hard to repress for many years. If it happens, it’s going to be fucking nasty. It doesn’t seem possible that a woman I barely know has the power to light a fire I staunched long ago.
Ready to call it a night, I push off the vanity and brush my teeth.
Crawling into bed next to Teagan, I take a moment to watch her. She looks so peaceful as she sleeps. Her delicate features are relaxed as she exhales barely audible snores. This woman deserves so much more than me. She is beautiful inside and out. She has been alone and fighting for survival her entire life, yet she is still able to see the beauty in the world. Teagan is the strongest and most resilient person I have ever met. She deserves nothing less than the world at her feet. But that makes me a selfish man because goddamn it, I may not be good enough for her, but I will do whatever it takes to lay the world at her feet and make sure she knows she is worth it all. When she referred to that fucker as her husband, it fueled the raging inferno in my chest. There is a fire there, one I fully intend to unleash on that sick fuck. The “what ifs” have me on edge. I simply can’t stomach the thought of what could have happened tonight. I should have never left. I failed to protect her. Just like I failed to protect my mom.