My phone is an inert lump in my pocket, and a constant reminder I’m hiding.
Come six, I ride back to my apartment, keeping a careful watch for Declan’s bike, take a shower, and put on clean clothes. Then I head for Kurt’s place, getting there around seven thirty. Fashionably late again.
When I walk in, Declan’s sitting on his usual couch, glaring, and the mood is frosty to say the least.
Fuck him, I remind myself, and look away.
Cammy gives me a cheerful greeting. Dario’s slouched on the other couch. Tasha’s carefully not meeting my eyes, working on her laptop, presumably making final checks, while Kurt’s in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and talking to Cole.
I walk straight through, heading for the kitchen, but Declan’s up in an instant, hand closing on my arm.
“Where thehellhave you been?” he hisses, voicepitched low, but still loud enough to travel. The room’s quiet.
“Bike shop.” I shrug my arm free, riding my anger, using it to power my appearance of indifference. “Why?”
“Why?”He takes a breath, releases it, jaw clenched the whole time. “Because I tried to call you.”
“Sorry. Phone was off.” I pull it out of my pocket to prove it. I still haven’t turned it back on.
Coward.
“And then I texted you.”
“Yeah. Phone off.” I waggle it in front of his face.
“And then I started calling the hospitals.”
I don’t have a response to that. My stomach clenches, my heart rate rising.
“Do you know how many hospitals there are in LA?” he asks.
Quite a few. But I still can’t find my words.
His pale blue eyes bore into mine, anger and something I can’t identify fighting for space.
“Thirty-two,” he says through clenched teeth. “I called thirty-two hospitals.”
Fuck.
I should’ve turned my phone on. Should’ve texted him back.
“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to cling on to my anger. It’s fading too fast, like mist on a hilltop when the sun comes out.
And now there’s nothing in his eyes buthurt. He’s not pissed that I stood him up, he’s pissed because he thought I was injured, or dead, lying in a hospital bedsomewhere. And he has every right to be. I just… never expected him to go so far. Toworry.
But I don’t get it. I’m not hiswife. He’s here, he has the job, what does it matter if I turn up or not?
“Why do you care?” The words slip out before I can stop them, genuine curiosity in my voice.
“Why do Icare?” For the length of several breaths and dozens of beats of my racing heart, he stares at me, incredulous. Then he turns on his heel, walks out of the room, and his footsteps recede down the stairs. The outside door slams behind him.
I’m left standing in the middle of the room, frowning after him, very conscious of all the eyes on me. They heard everything. I can’t help but wonder if they understand more than I do, because I’m fucking confused.
There’s only one conclusion: Declan’s concern is real. Hishurtis real. No one could be that good an actor, even a man who hides his family from the world.
I can’t shake the feeling I’ve made a horrible mistake, but I don’t know what it could be. I only know I feel like shit, my stomach in knots.
“Genesis.” From behind me, Kurt’s voice breaks the quiet. I turn to face him, schooling my expression. Cole’s watching me too, gaze assessing. “Are you ready for tonight?”
