Declan is still asleep when I’m done, and I decide to surprise him with breakfast in bed.I get the feeling he doesn’t have many people to look after him.I’m not surprised; he’s pretty closed off.
I notice the photos on the wall as I head for the kitchen; some of them are of Declan and his mom, but most are of him with his teammates or his sister, Violet.I recognize her from my research on him, and I smile at one of them as a kid.Declan is ruffling Violet’s hair, and she’s beaming up at him.It’s clear that Declan was her hero when they were younger.I wonder if he still is.
Rifling through the kitchen, I find a pan and some utensils.I whisk some eggs and make toast.I find some turkey bacon and wrinkle my nose, deciding against that.
Curiosity gets the better of me as I wait for the butter to melt in the pan, and I look around his place.It’s pretty bare, but it feels cozy.It’s a cool mix of man cave and homey knick-knacks.
A desk sits at the side of the living room, and I look over my shoulder guiltily as I shuffle some of the papers there.
That’s when I find it.
In the top drawer is a file.At first, I assume it’s fan mail, but I realize how wrong I am when I look through the file.
There are pictures of Declan when he was younger, all bruised and cut up.Some are from when he was a teen, but there are others from when he was younger.
Why would he have these?How did he get so beat up?And so many times?
“What are you doing?”Declan snaps behind me.
I yelp, spinning to face him.“I was… making breakfast.”
His face is like a storm cloud as he stomps toward me.I wince as he rips the folder out of my hand.“Declan, I’m sorry.So sorry.”
He glares at me.I can see how furious he is, but underneath his anger, I see hurt.
I did that,I think, shame filling me.
“I shouldn’t have been snooping.I just wanted to know you better.”
“For your article,” he snaps.
“What?No!I like—”
“Get out,” Declan says, cutting me off.
“Wait!Please, just hear me out,” I beg.
But he’s a stone wall.“Get your things,” he says, his voice hard like steel.
He pulls out his phone, and I watch as he opens the Uber app and orders a car for me.
“Three minutes.Get your things,” he orders, turning on his heel and stalking away from me.
I go into the kitchen, turning off the burner on the now-smoking frying pan.Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back as I head to the bedroom to get my shoes and purse.
Declan is in the bedroom, angrily swiping through my notebook.He doesn’t even look up at me as I enter, and I silently go about gathering my things.Once I’m done, I wait for him to hand me my notebook.
“Your car is here.”
I nod.“Declan, I—”
“Save it,” he spits.
I swallow, nodding glumly as I turn to head for the front door.
The Uber is idling by the curb, and I climb into the back, taking one last look at the house as we drive off.
What do I do now?I gave myself to Declan last night.Not just my body, but also my heart.
