Of course, Declan had come to the hospital the night of the accident of his own free will.That showed he cared.And Declan made me feel safe, which for some reason I needed right now.After being hit by that car, I’d struggled with feelings of vulnerability.Nothing like lying helpless in a ditch, bleeding to make you come face to face with your mortality.
So, I pushed aside my insecurities and texted Declan.
The doctor said I’m being released at 4:00 p.m.today.I need a ride home.I hate asking, but I don’t know who else to ask.
He responded in under a minute:I’ll be there at 3:59 p.m.
* * *
At 4:00 p.m.on the dot, I was released from the hospital and forced to sit in a wheelchair.I felt ridiculous, but the hospital had insisted leaving in a wheelchair was the rule.It didn’t matter that I could hobble fairly well, rules were rules.So a nurse wheeled me out to where Declan was standing by his SUV with the passenger door open.He looked handsome in a dark suit and red tie, and to be honest, I felt a bit breathless seeing him.Or maybe that was just my fractured rib making it difficult to breathe.
I stood unsteadily, and he slipped his arm through mine.His clean, masculine scent and the heat of his body made me feel comforted.
“Thanks for doing this,” I said as I climbed clumsily into the car.
“Of course.”He put his hands on my ass and half lifted me into the car.It made the job easier, but it was also embarrassing when the nurse giggled behind us.
“Sorry,” I said, gingerly tugging the seatbelt around me.“If I’d had anyone else to call…”
He leaned in and said softly, “I’m happy to help, Spencer.”
I laughed nervously but said nothing.
The ride up Tideline Road was strange.The last time I’d been on this road, I was walking and someone had almost killed me with their car.Now I was in Declan’s SUV, watching the same stretch of shoulder where I’d been hit.I could see the drainage ditch.I could see the spot where the gravel was chewed up.I looked away.
Apparently, the accident was also on his mind, because he said, “Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to locate the vehicle or the driver who hit you.Without witnesses or physical evidence, it’s almost impossible to track them down.We’ll keep investigating, but …”
“Figures,” I mumbled.
Declan didn’t say anything, but his hand moved to my knee for a moment.Brief.Warm.Then back to the steering wheel.
I gave him directions to my home, and he parked in the driveway.My cottage was a small white clapboard place with a porch barely big enough for one chair and a front door that stuck when it rained.Seeing as it was Oregon, of course it had rained while I was in the hospital, so Declan had to shoulder the door open.
“It sticks,” I said apologetically.Secretly relieved he’d been with me so he could do that.Banging my shoulder into the door to open it might have killed me.
“I noticed.”He laughed.“Maybe you should get a new door.”
“I rent.When I mentioned it to the landlord, he didn’t seem concerned.”
Declan gave me a quizzical look as he helped me over the threshold.“Aren’t you the guy who took down slumlords back in Portland?Why are you letting him get away with that?”
“I like it here.I don’t want to move.”I sighed.“If I start trouble, he might kick me out.”
Inside, the cottage was cold and smelled stale after being closed up for a day and a half.I knew my home was small, but it felt even smaller with Declan in it.The living room and kitchen were basically the same room, separated by a counter with two barstools.The walls were a faded blue, but I liked the color.It was calming.There was a couch that was too big for the room, a coffee table, and a sherpa blanket thrown over the armrest that I’d had since college.
I’d hung a few things to make it feel like mine: a framed black-and-white photo of the Portland skyline that I couldn’t quite let go of, and a vintage Oregon coast travel poster I’d found at a thrift shop.My desk sat against the wall facing the kitchen window, which had the ocean view that had sold me on the place.There was a corkboard near the desk, pinned with notes, clippings, business cards from sources.
Declan wandered over to the corkboard and read aloud the fortune cookie fortune I’d pinned on the board.“You will find what you are not looking for.”He smiled and glanced at me.
I grimaced.“I kept that one because it’s a good reminder to stop forcing things.”
He grunted but didn’t comment.
Declan went straight to the thermostat and turned the heat on, then opened the fridge, assessed its contents, and closed it with a bewildered expression.
“You need groceries.”He frowned.“You were only gone a day.How come there’s nothing in your fridge but an avocado and a six-pack of beer?”
I sat gingerly on the couch, groaning as I rested against the pillows.“I was supposed to shop the day of the accident, but I got busy doing other things.”I wasn’t sure I wanted to share that I’d been pumping Gil for information just yet.“To be fair, I didn’t know I was going to get mowed down by a car.”
