I’m not just grieving the loss of Declan, but the loss of what we had. I’m mourning for what could have been and for the greatness that we were. Because even if it all fell apart, I know in my heart that what Declan and I had was the real thing—a love bigger than the both of us combined. If he was the moon, then I was the tide. Deep down, I know I will always be the tide.
But just because it ended doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Declan
Day of the wedding
Surprisingly, I’ve learned a lot about love over the years of my life. I’ve learned that it can hurt as much as it can heal. I’ve learned that it’s not enough to make someone happy. I’ve learned that it’s more selfish than selfless.
And I’ve learned that I’m really bloody bad at it.
I didn’t touch a drink all night. Instead, I listened to rain pummel our house as I picked up all of the messy memories scattered around the floor. Then I put them all back in the chest, and I closed it—for good.
I’m not angry at Colin for not showing. I could never be really cross with him. And how could I blame him for making his choice when that’s what I’ve been urging him to do all these years? From that night in the alley to last night at the party. I had spent eight years trying to prove his own worth to him.
If nothing else, I could consider myself lucky for the sheer greatness of what we had when we had it—because it was great.
By some miracle, I manage to get ready. I think I’m numb at this point. Sleep-deprived.
Heartbroken.
Either way, I’m able to shower, brush my teeth, and don my white shirt, gray jacket, and kilt for my best friend’s wedding. Every few steps, my feet falter, and I nearly lose what little composure I have left.
Nevertheless, I reach the main floor of the house to find it far quieter and eerier than I expected. The rain and wind pound on the windows of the house, which means any plans of a ceremony in the gazebo are out of the question now.
My feet halt, another small stumble and a moment of dizziness before I swallow down the pain and keep going.
The familiar click of my sister’s heels against the hardwood draws my attention to the foyer. She’s scurrying toward me with a look of concern on her face.
“Mum’s heels,” I mutter with a sad smile.
Her head tilts with confusion as she approaches me. “What are you talking about?”
“Whenever I hear you walking around here in those heels, it always reminds me of Mum.”
Sadness morphs her features. “Oh, Declan,” she says, reaching for me. As she wraps me up in her arms, I try to stay tough. I’m not a small boy. This is nothing like that day she broke the news to me, holding me while I proceeded to not shed a single tear.
This is nothing like that day.
Although it feels familiar.
I rest my cheek against my sister’s shoulder as she rubs my back. “I won the bet,” I mumble sadly.
“I don’t care about the bet, Declan,” she murmurs against the side of my head. “I care about you. The same way I care about Killian. And Lachlan. I just want my brothers to be happy, and it seems like you are all defiantly against that.”
I laugh a little into her embrace. “We don’t make it easy.”
“No, you don’t.”
Pulling away from her hug, I let out a heavy sigh.
Then my sister makes a face as if she’s realized something. “Wait, you didn’t win the bet.”
I pause with an expression of scrutiny. “What?”
“I thought you knew,” she says. “The wedding is off.”
