Chapter Twelve
Now
Sunday morning, I wake up around five and don’t stop to lie there and ruminate. I throw on workout clothes, make myself coffee, and head down to the basement to work out.
I turn on my phone and see I have no new texts on Signal. The ones from last night have already expired and auto-deleted, so I don’t know if they were opened and read or not.
Before I start my workout, I reactivate Declan’s gate code and turn off the lockdown feature on my alarm. Then I put in my earbuds, start my music, prop my phone in the cupholder, and tackle the elliptical machine.
I keep Signal open. Fifteen minutes later, I see Declan’s read my text.
Five minutes later, my gate’s opened.
I don’t stop what I’m doing when, five minutes after that, Declan descends my basement stairs, pauses to watch me for a moment, then walks over and kneels in his usual place.
I ignore him.
Well, I pretend to ignore him, because my heart’s aching so badly right now I’m not entirely sure maybe it’s a not heart attack.
I finish on the elliptical and then do reps on the resistance machine, and a kettlebell routine I despise but need this morning, if for no other reason than I need an outlet to pour my shitty emotions into.
Is hate-exercising a thing? Like hate-sex?
Once I’ve finished all that, I shut my music off, remove my earbuds, and stand in front of him. “Greeting, boy.”
He practically lunges at me, cupping the backs of my heels, nuzzling the top of my shoes. I try to think back how long it’s been since we’ve spent quality time together, and yeah, it was on Wednesday.
I reach down and ruffle his hair. “Sir let you come over, huh?”
“He’s still asleep, Ma’am. He told me last night I could come over.”
An unexpected wave of fury washes over me.Well, isn’t thatgenerousof him? Letting my own boy come visit me?
I strangle the thought into submission. George is trying.
Reallytrying.
I’mthe problem right now, and I know it. Compounded by that is, honestly? I can’t let myself be tied to George romantically until I see the long game through to the end. I won’t bring George or Declan down with me in case something goes wrong.
I can’t let George get that vested in me, that if I’m arrested it fucking kills him.
I take a deep breath and rein in my emotions. “Go ahead and strip, boy.”
He jumps to his feet and does.
That’s when I see George has locked him up. “When did that go on?”
He blushes. “Friday night, Ma’am.”
“You mean last night?”
“No, Ma’am. Friday night before we went to sleep. After you stopped by. He was going to try to talk you into playing with me yesterday morning.”
“Did you tell him I watched you playing Friday night?”
“No, Ma’am.”
Hmm. Interesting.
