“What do you mean?”
“What do you want now?”
I chew my bottom lip. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”
“I think you do.” She faces me, giving me a knowing look. “But you’re scared to say it out loud because of what it might mean. Just say it, Claire. It’s me. No one else is here. Tell me what you want.”
My pulse hammers in my ears as I summon the strength to give voice to my needs for the first time. “Him. I want Declan. And not in the shadows. But he doesn’t want the same thing. He?—”
“You’re doing it again,” Dylan cautions.
“What?”
“Making excuses.”
“But I told him?—”
“Fuck whatever you may have told him. If you want more, demand more. You deserve more than scraps. More than pieces. You deserve everything. And if Declan isn’t willing to give you that, if he’s not willing tofightfor you, regardless of the obstacles…” She shakes her head. “Then he doesn’t deserve you, Claire. But you’ll never know if you don’t ask.
“You’vechanged your mind about what you want. Maybe he’s done the same.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DECLAN
The cursor blinkson the screen in front of me, mocking me with its steady pulse. A stack of briefs sits untouched on the corner of my desk, red tabs marking every section I should have already reviewed. I should be buried in case law, pulling apart precedent, constructing arguments sharp enough to slice through steel.
Instead, I’m staring at a single word in the brief I’ve been working on for two hours and thinking about Claire.
Her laugh. Her mouth. The way she looked at me last week in Tahoe as if I was more than I am. More than my failings. More than the mistakes I’ve made.
It’s maddening.
This was never supposed to happen.
A fling, yes. Temporary. Easy.
But the more time I spend with her, the more I’ve realized nothing about her is easy.
I lean back in my chair and scrub a hand down my face.
I know better.
I’vealwaysknown better.
The truth is, Icraveher. More than I seem to be able to control.
And that terrifies me.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve fought to maintain control over every aspect of my life. Ineedthe control.
But with Claire, I feel like I’m losing all sense of control. I feel like I’m losing who I am. Or maybe who IthoughtI was.
My gaze falls on my phone tempting me from beside my laptop, and I grab it, navigating to my contacts. My thumb hovers over her name, as if reading it might summon her. I almost type out a text, inviting her over for lunch, but stop myself.
It’s almost Christmas. Soon, I’ll go back to D.C. Back to my solitary existence. Back to the way things have always been.
Maybe the best thing for me to do is put some distance between us.
