He drains his coffee and reaches for my cup. I hand it over and he gets up to throw them in the trash can on the other side of the trail. It gives me time to collect my thoughts, which I’m thankful for.
“So, you have feelings for him, but they’re not feelings you’re allowed as a priest. Am I right?” He sits down but angles himself so he’s looking directly at me.
I nod. He’s right. I want more of Declan and less of my religion when I’m in his orbit. “Yeah.” My head drops. I’ve never said those words—not even to myself. It took Caleb saying them for me to admit it. “Catholicism is all I needed.”
“Until Declan,” he finishes for me.
We’re both quiet. I think he’s absorbing it all while I’m internally struggling.
He finally breaks the silence. “Do you love him?”
Do I love him?The question repeats on a loop, forcing away any other thoughts.
“I’m not sure. I assumed I wasn’t able to love, not in that capacity. But he’s in my head all the time. When I’m not with him, I’m thinking about him. And when I am with him, my mind is quiet. Quiet in a way I’ve never experienced.”
“That sounds like love to me. I truly believed I was in love with Trish, but it wasn’t like that.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Yes, I loved her to an extent, but it never felt like true love. I get like that with Fiona though. I told her I loved her recently.”
I turn to look at him, feeling slightly guilty because I’ve not asked about his life. Who am I anymore? “You did? How’d it go?”
“It went very well. She showed me her feelings in return,” he says, then he winks, telling me they had sex.
What would sex feel like? Declan said he’ll fuck me one day. How would that feel?
Even my brain goes to the depraved things he does to me at inappropriate times.
Trying to get our minds out of the gutter, I say, “Okay, got it. So, where’s that leave you two?”
“We’re good, taking things slow. I just got divorced and she’s been running the bar since Declan’s attack. We’re letting life just be. No rushing, just enjoying. Now, enough of me. Back to you and these feelings.”
“I’m not sure it’s love.”
He shoves me back, playfully. “You, my friend, are in love. You have hearts in your eyes whenever you talk about him.”
“Let’s not go there,” I chuckle.
“Hey man, I’m all for you being with Declan, if that’s what you want in life. You just need to let him have a place and not as your dirty little secret. I know you, and you’ll destroy yourself trying to hold it all in. Do what’s right for you.”
Can I really carry Declan in my heart and still wear the collar, pretending he doesn’t exist? Can I live a life built on vows if the truest part of me has to stay hidden? The questions won’t leave me alone. I’m torn between the life I thought I wanted and the one that feels right.
29
DECLAN
The only thing that brings me joy is the nights I come over to Ewen’s. I haven’t been at the bar in weeks. I covered for Ciaran for a week. I made him stay home and process everything. But when he came back I stayed, telling myself it was to watch him.
Somehow it’s become what dad always wanted, me running the business with Ciar. It was originally what everyone wanted for me, but I’d told them the best way for me to be the Reaper was to keep me away from the family business. The separation was needed to hide my role.
Ciaran’s happy to have me there. I never realized how much he shouldered until I stepped in. There are legitimate businesses and crews to handle. Both are well-oiled machines that can function without interference, but they still need to be maintained.
When I met with the top-ranking members of the crew, they asked about our rogue Reaper taking out the top ranks of the Bianchi crew and going after their immediate family. Everyone’s heard of Teresa’s demise, and I prefer those questions directed to me instead of Ciaran. The crew has always known I’m family, they just never knew I am their Reaper. No matter how manytimes I told them it wasn’t our Reaper doing these things, they didn’t believe me. I even brought in Aaron Kelly, our rumored Reaper, to tell everyone he isn’t behind these killings.
My days have been replaced with suits and meetings. I miss the days when I dealt with a backed-up beer delivery or shot the shit at the bar, gathering secrets from the folks of South Boston.
Fiona has fully stepped up and taken over the bar. She hired help so she isn’t there from sunrise to the wee hours of the night. Thanks to her, it’s one less thing for me to worry about.
Ewen though, he’s my distraction from all the stress piling on me. I wait till it’s late and dark, then walk into his place like I live there. Some nights he’s up, waiting for me. Others he’s asleep. But he always lets me touch him, taste him, push his boundaries.
Tonight, I’ll get him ready for his bravest adventure. I’ve eaten his ass, fingered it and dreamed it was my dick being choked. He even surprised me the other night when he was brave enough and asked me to take him. I stopped, frozen from his boldness. I refused, told him I wouldn’t hurt him and he’d need to be prepped first.
