We’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes now, Declan little more than a huge, dark shadow on the sidewalk beside me. At the end of the block I can see Caleb Emerson’s house—the infamous house party in full swing.

I stop in my tracks and plant my feet. “If you think I’m going anywhere near that party, you’re nuts.”

Seeing all those people reminds me of what happened between Conner and Henley this afternoon. How Declan sought her out and lied to her about how much Con wanted to go to that party so he could hook-up with Jessica Renfro. How satisfied he looked when she took the bait. How sick Conner looked because he knew what was coming. That even if Henley didn’t believe him, she’d use what his brother said as an excuse to break up with him and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“What?” Declan stops walking and turns around to look at me before aiming another quick look down the block toward Caleb’s house. Every light in the house is on and loud music pours through the open front door. There are kids in the yard. The street. The fact that the cops haven’t been called yet is a mid-size miracle. “Why would I take you there?”

It’s a valid question. Why would someone like Declan Gilroy take someone like me to a popular kid house party. Despite its validity, the question tightens the back of my neck. He’s lucky I don’t have a tool in my hand. “Fuck you.” I turn and start walking back the way we came.

I don’t realize he’s following me until I feel his hand wrap around my upper arm, stopping me in my tracks before turning me to look at him. “What’s wrong?” He’s looking down at me, his face completely cast in shadows. “What did I do now?”

“It’s not what you did, so much as what you are,” I tell him, pulling on the grip his has on my arm. Surprisingly, he lets me go. Instead of taking off down the street I just stand there and glare at him, my neck cranked so far back, it instantly starts to ache.

“Let me guess—a fucking asshole, right?” He crosses his arms over his chest. Despite his aggressive posture, I get the distinct impression that I hurt his feelings somehow which makes me feel bad. All I have to do is remember what he did to Henley, how he treats her, and that all goes away.

“You are an asshole, Declan.” I jab my finger in his face. “A giant, festering asshole.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to help me?” He doesn’t try to defend himself. Doesn’t try to tell me I’m wrong. That he’s really a nice guy under it all. He just stands there and waits for me to make up my mind.

“Why wouldn’t you take me to Caleb Emerson’s party?” It’s not what I meant to say. I meant to tell him to go fuck himself sideways but the question is out there now, hanging between us and I can’t snatch it back.

“Why would I?” He shakes his head at me like he can’t figure out what is wrong with me. “It’s just a bunch of dumb, drunk kids running around trying to screw each other. That’s always been Con’s deal, not mine. I’ve got better shit to do and so do you.” We just stand here, staring at each other until he finally lets his arms drop away from his chest. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Not.

When I open my mouth, that’s what I expect to hear myself say but my mouth has taken on a life of its own where Declan Gilroy is concerned. “Why me?”

He keeps staring at me for a second and I don’t think he’s going to answer. But then he closes the space between us, bending himself to bring his features into the glow of the street light we’re standing under.

He’s beautiful.

That’s the last thing I remember thinking before I feel his massive hand close over mine. “You want to know why?” he says quietly, using his hold to pull me closer. “Because you’re good with a wrench—” He lifts his hand and mine, opening them both to stack them, palm-to-palm. The tips of my fingers barely reach his knuckles. “And your hands are a hell of a lot smaller than mine.”