Clothes for Declan arrive the next day. He’s ordered a pair of jeans and a couple of T-shirts, along with some loose-fitting shorts that will be a lot easier to get on over his leg.
No underwear, of course.
He stubbornly dresses himself, sitting on the edge of the bed, wincing as he bends to hook his shorts over his feet. That would be his side hurting. Then tensing and closing his eyes as he draws them up his legs. That would be his thigh.
I shake my head. “If I leave you alone in the apartment for an hour or two, will you promise me not to leave, do calisthenics, or rearrange the furniture?”
“Where are you going?”
I pull shorts and a sports top out of a drawer. “For a run.” I could use the space, and I’m sure he couldtoo. “I’m taking my phone and my AirPods. Call me if you need me.”
It’s a hot day, the sky blue and streaked with thin white clouds. I head north, up into Blanchard Canyon, listening to Spotify. It’s five miles up to Mount Lukens through a spiderweb of narrow dirt trails, the elevation doing more work than the distance. I hadn’t intended to go so far, but I soon find myself pushing for the peak, feeling the burn in my legs. Needing the solitude and the time to think.
The view is the best bit, LA a smudge below, hazy with heat and distance. I stop to take it in, processing Declan and my guilt.
Yes, guilt—not just for intruding on his privacy and following him, but for holding him responsible, too. He was never to blame, but I blamed him. Would he have put himself in harm’s way for me if I hadn’t made him worry so? Got shot, forme,if I’d turned up for that damn date?What if he hadn’t—would I be dead now, or would Cole have arrived and put that security guard down?
It’s not just guilt for that, either, for after the trip back home, my goddamn upbringing is rearing its head, Mormon values never truly forgotten. Chastity—that’s a laugh—tangling with shame and my desire for him.
I can escape my apartment, escape him—at least for an hour or two—but I can’t escape myself.
Hell, I’m not even sure I can escapehim. Not anymore.
The man is… obsessed. That’s the word. Obsessed, withme.
How is that a thing?
I’ve spent my whole life being overlooked, left, or used. Obsession is a new one. I’m not sure I hate it as much as I should.
Is it wrong to think it’s almost… nice?
That thought circles in time with the rhythm of my run, and I push myself harder, trying to dispel my disquiet.
It’s taken me two hours to reach the peak, and I told him I’d be gone that long. So it’s not a surprise when my phone rings through my AirPods. I double-tap to answer. “Sorry, went farther than I intended. I’ll be back soon.”
“Well, that tells me where Declan is,” Kurt drawls in my ear. “How are you both doing?”
Shit.
“Uh… good. He’s stronger.”
“Steven said he should be up and about in a week. He got lucky.”
Lucky? He gotshot. “Yeah, I guess. If by lucky you mean not dead.”
Kurt chuckles. “Do I detect a note of protectiveness?”
“No.”Maybe. “What do you want?”
“Your opinion. The next job is the big one. I’m going to ask you again, now that you’re closer than ever: can we trust Declan?”
“Why are you askingme, Kurt? You always make up your own mind on the crew.”
“Yes, I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t seekinput. And you know him better than anyone.” He pauses. “Last time you didn’t have an answer, and I want to know if that’s changed. So. Can we?”
I hesitate.
Declan’s never been anything but straight with me. Any doubts have been of my creation, not his. He’s never told me who that woman is, or why he was taking herjewelry,of all things, but I’ve never asked, either. And neither can I, without admitting I followed him.
