The whole drive back to the house, Declan is smiling at me like I’ve given him all of his Christmas presents a day early. It’s unreal, the way it makes hope and want and happiness bloom inside a place that’s sat vacant for two centuries. As soon as we get out of the car he’s at my side, our fingers laced together, and he’s pressed against my side like he wants to be attached. . . and I don’t hate it. I feel good about it. The way Declan acts around me makes me feel like I’m bigger than I am, like maybe I didn’t do such a bad thing after all.
I unlock the front door and hear clinking glassware from down the hallway. My parents are up, obviously. I want to pull Declan upstairs. I don’t want to share him with them yet. I just want him to be mine and I want this to be ours. Just for one more night.
Lie.
A lot more nights.
I want at least four more years of nights before I need to start worrying about whatever my parents are about to unload on us.
“Ezra,” my father calls from the dining room and the hope inside of me plummets into the floor.
“Just going upstairs,” I answer.
“Ezra.” This time it’s my mother and I curse them both under my breath because they know I can’t say no to her. I’ve never been able to.
“It’s okay,” Declan whispers against my neck. “I hope they like me.”
I turn and cup his face in my hands, and I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for someone to not like him. He’s perfection.
I nod and lead him into the dining room, and he stands nervously half a step behind me. My mom gets up and comes around the table, looking at me like I’ve done something wonderful. She has this proud smile on her face and her eyes shift to look behind me at Declan.
“And who are you?” she asks in this soothing way she has about her. She’s trying to get him to relax, and I equal parts appreciate it and hate it.
“I’m Declan,” he answers, staying behind me. “Declan Byrne.”
“Old name.”
“That’s what Ezra said.”
Her lips twitch into a smile. “How are you feeling, Declan? Let’s come and sit down.”
She turns back to the table and we both follow. Declan slips into the chair he sat at earlier and I take mine. My parents both have drinks in front of them, and my mom asks if we want anything. Declan reaches over and grabs my thigh, his fingertips treacherously close to my sac.
“I’m alright for now, thank you,” he says.
I want to throw him on the table and split him apart with my cock.
“Declan, these are my parents, Birdie and William Clarke.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“How are you fairing, then?” my mother asks again. She slides her hand across the table, palm up, and my father tangles their fingers together.
“Fine, I think.”
“He’s fine,” I answer. “We’re both fine.”
“You, darling, were far from fine when it was your time. Have times changed so much now that such a life changing experience is so well-received?” William says, and I bristle at the insinuation. I reach beneath the table and take Declan’s hand.
“Our circumstances weren’t comparable,” I whisper, clearing my throat when the words catch. I don’t want to have this conversation.
“I really am doing okay,” Declan interjects. “I think it’s going to be an adjustment, obviously. But it’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
A wave of fear and disgust washes over me and I blink Declan into focus. He’s looking across the table at my mother, but there’s no doubt the way I’m feeling is the way he’s feeling. I grip his hand tighter and hope he knows that he has me now, and whatever happened to him in the past won’t ever happen again.
“I’m sure Ezra has told you the basics, yes?” My father finally speaks up.
“No sun. No food. No silver.”
