I can't drag him into this.Can't risk Warren.Can't let myself need him when needing people has only ever ended in pain.
So I turn away.Focus on work.Ignore the way my hands shake when I pour drinks.Ignore the way my heart spikes every time someone walks through the door.
Ignore the burn of Tank's stare on my back.
He doesn't approach, doesn't call me over.He just sits there, solid and steady and too fucking perceptive.
Can he tell something's wrong?Can he see the panic barely contained beneath my skin?
I purposely stay at the far end of the bar, serve customers on the opposite side, and avoid even glancing in his direction.
But I feel him.Every second.Every breath.
And underneath the fear of Declan, underneath the panic and hyper-vigilance, there's something else.Something I don't want to examine too closely.
The memory of Tank's hands.The sound of his voice saying my name.The way he made me feel safe for a few hours before reality crashed back in.
I hate that I want that again.I hate that part of me wants to turn to him right now and sayhelp me.
Because I can't.I won't.Asking for help means admitting I'm not okay.Admitting I'm scared.Admitting that maybe, just maybe, I can't handle this alone.
And I have to handle it alone.
For Warren.For myself.For the life I've spent three years building.
* * *
I finish my shift early after telling Ciara I'm not feeling well—which isn't even a lie.She looks concerned but doesn't push, just tells me to rest and text if I need anything.
I grab my jacket and bag and avoid looking at Tank as I head for the door.
But I feel him watching.Feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.
And part of me, a small, pathetic part, wants him to follow.Wants him to stop me.Wants him to demand to know what's wrong and refuse to let me handle it alone.
But he doesn't.
He lets me go.
Like he promised he would.
The door closes behind me and the cool Dublin air hits my face.I suck in a breath, trying to steady myself.
The street's busy, with people everywhere.A normal Friday afternoon in the city.
But nothing feels normal.
I start walking.Fast.Head down, shoulders hunched, bag clutched tight against my side.Every sound makes me jump.Every footstep behind me could be him.
Missed you today, baby.
The words echo in my head, over and over.
He was here.Today.Watching me.Close enough to see that I look different.
I scan every face I pass.Every man who's the right height, the right build.Is that him?Or that one?
Stop.You're spiraling.
