Callie
He’s standing, hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking back at me with those hazel eyes. But instead of impassive, they look… sad.
I cross my arms over my chest. I want to run right to him, wrap myself around him and hold on.
But I don’t. Maybe I inherited that damn pride gene too.
Thanks a lot, Dad.
Declan pulls his hands out of his pockets and flexes them in and out of fists at his sides, as if he’s itching to touch me, and after a long moment, he curses, and begins to pace in front of his dad’s grave.
“I fucked up,” he begins and pushes his hands through his hair, then stops and looks back at me.
“I’m listening,” I reply and cock a brow.
“Look, I’m not perfect.”
“I don’t want perfect,” I reply and drop my arms to my sides. “I want honest.”
“I’ve always been honest with you. The thing is, Callie, I don’t know how I fucked up. I don’t know what happened.” He looks truly haunted as he stares at me, unconsciously rubbing his fingers against his thumbs.
God, I want to feel those hands on me again.
He can’t read your mind, Callie.
“Okay.” I nod and lick my lips, gathering my thoughts.
“God, you look so fucking good,” he growls. His eyes have darkened and they’re pinned on my mouth. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”
“You saw me the other night.”
“What, exactly, happened the other night?” he asks.
“That’s my question,” I reply, already getting frustrated. “Wait. It started before that.”
He rubs his hand over his mouth and waits for me to keep talking.
“You pulled away from me,” I say, my voice suddenly quiet. “You blew me off several times last week, and that’s not like you. At all.”
“I didn’t mean for it to feel like I was blowing you off,” he says, his voice also calmer, and he’s starting to look like my Declan again, which gives me the strength to keep talking.
“It did. And I realize now that I should have just spoken up, but it threw me. And then on Wednesday, you did it again, and when I went to dinner with Kate—” I have to pause and shake my head, the horror of it making me sick all over again.
“Keep going,” he says and takes another step toward me.
“I saw you with another woman,” I say and bite my lip so I don’t cry. “It just… it killed me, Declan. I assumed you were done with me, and had already moved on.”
“No.”
“And then later, back at the bar, after Keith apologized to me and left, you were there, and for a moment I thought, Oh good. He’s here to explain things. But you didn’t. You left.” I shake my head and pace away.
“Don’t walk away,” he says, his voice firm. “Look at me, Callie.”
“You walked away,” I reply and turn back to him, my anger back in place. “You didn’t fight. I needed to believe that you want this as much as I do. I needed you to fight for me, and you didn’t. You left.”
“Callie, you were upset, and I didn’t know what in the hell was going on. I thought you needed time to calm down. I went looking for you the next morning to figure it out.”
“I didn’t want to figure it out the next morning.”
“Maybe I needed a little space too,” he replies softly.
“Why did you need space?” I ask, but he just shakes his head and shrugs, as if he can’t figure it out himself. “Do I look like an idiot to you, Declan?”
“No, you look like the rest of my life.”
I stop and simply stare at him, all of the mad leaving my body. It’s replaced with nothing but hope and so much love for this infuriating, frustrating man.
“I needed to hear that,” I whisper, my eyes glued to his gorgeous face.
“What else do you need?” he asks. I frown, not understanding where he’s going with this. “What do you need from me? What do you need in life?”