I shake my head. “You weren’t with me. There was nowhere to go.”
“I love you.”
I love you.
“What do we do now?”
I drop my head down against the floor and Declan rolls off of me with a wince.
“Clean up,” I suggest.
He scoffs and pushes himself up into a seated position. Looking down at his chest, he tests his fingers against the angry red blisters and sores that have manifested in his skin.
“They’ll heal,” I tell him, and he nods somberly.
“Can we go to bed?”
“Need your help.”
Declan stands and helps me up. My joints aren’t as tender as when I first came around, but I’ve seen better days. He helps me up the stairs and into bed. We’re both a mess but don’t bother to shower, choosing to instead collapse in each other’s arms against the sheets.
California, it is
“So, tell me everything.”
Declan shoots an inquisitive look in my direction, but I ignore him, focusing on scrubbing the blood stains out of the foyer floor instead.
“I’ve told you the important parts.”
“I want to know all the parts,” he protests.
I rest on my heels and shove my sleeves up over my elbows.
“Go find them, then.”
I return to scrubbing the lingering red stains out of the floor. I look up at Declan and he smirks at me, then narrows his eyes. It feels like there’s fingers inside my brain and I drop my brush onto the floor. It clatters and Declan prods deeper, digging around my memories. He must find what he wants, because he makes a disagreeable sound, then more tingling pressure.
I rock back onto my ass and cross my legs, getting the distinct impression I’m going to be here for a while. Declan sees his way around my brain, and while there’d been a time I wouldn’t have wanted this, now I welcome it.
The tingling abates and Declan mirrors my cross-legged position on the floor. He folds his hands into his lap and asks me, “Did it hurt?”
“What?”
He swallows. “When you got shot.”
So much of that night is blurred by rage that’s coupled with a need to forget. I shrug helplessly.
“Of course it hurt.”
It obviously wasn’t my brains that splattered across Declan’s battered body, but Franklin had managed to get a shot off before Diah blew a bullet straight through his chest. It was fitting enough that my brother was the one to end Franklin, after what his goons had done to Liz, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that kill for myself.
The bullet Franklin had meant for me ricocheted, tearing through the side of my neck, nicking my carotid artery. I’ve never felt pain in my life like I did when that silver ripped through me, but Henry and Diah were quick to see to my wounds.
“What about when you broke the bond?”
I look up at him and push myself to my feet.
“Please don’t ask me that.” I grab the scrub brush and carry it into the kitchen. Declan follows and reaches around me to toss his into the sink.
