Page 34 of Trouble

“I did what I did, and I’d do it again.” He strokes my hand with his thumb. “I’m not worried about explaining my actions. Or answering for them. So you tell me what you want to do, and we’ll make it happen.”

His expression is softer than I thought possible, his brown eyes imploring me to do what I need. The comfort I find in a man I barely know is unexplainable, and yet…

“I want to file a report,” I admit. I don’t think I’d havebeen able to even utter those words if not for the strength he’s giving me by holding my hand, by simply sitting quietly with me.

His eyes warm with affection. “Okay, let me make some calls.”

Declan sits beside me in his office, a pillar of unwavering support, while the detective from Boston takes my statement. I have a feeling I have Beckett Langfield to thank for the police officer’s willingness to drive out here to speak to me.

Either way, I tearfully walk through each detail of last night’s altercation. Though I’m swamped with trepidation, I detail every incident I can think of, each time he hurt me. A broken ankle from being pushed down the stairs—he claimed I tripped while we were fighting, but I can still feel him leaning close, and I can still hear the hiss of his breath as he pressed a palm to my back and uttered the words “stupid bitch” as I was catapulted forward. Or the time he slammed me into the wall after one of my shows. For a week, there was this awful ringing in my ear that he blamed on my drinking. He couldn’t explain away trying to rape me, though. By that point, I’d had writer’s block for months. The stress of our toxic relationship made it impossible for any creativity to bloom. When he held me down and told me he’d give me something to write about, even as I begged him to stop, I knew there was no turning back. Our relationship was over. I kneed him in the balls and ran out of his apartment.

After hiding out at a hotel for two nights, I stupidly ran straight to my mother’s house. I was desperate. Distraught. But Jason had already poisoned my family against me. He’d shown up with some sob story about how I’d had too much to drink and had accused him of awful things. He said he knew we needed a break and asked my mother to give me my things.

At the top of the box full of things, Jason had left my music journal. It was full of every song I’d ever written, lyrics and notes, my soul bled into every page. The relief I felt to hold it in my hands was short-lived,because when I opened it, I discovered he had taken a marker to every page. It was unreadable. Destroyed.

I left my mother’s house even more broken than when I had come.

I don’t say any of this to the detective, though. I keep it straightforward. Detailing the abuse. The attempted rape. Last night’s events.

When the detective asks why I didn’t report Jason’s behavior before—yes, that’s how he words it—Declan grips my knee beneath his desk and says, “I’ve got someone coming in for a meeting any minute. I assume that’s enough information for now?”

As Declan walks the man out of the office, mortification eats at me, tearing me into pieces. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman with more than enough resources, and still, I was too afraid to go to the police. Too worried they’d believe Jason over me.

And why wouldn’t they? My own family did.

Women who report their abusers are the strongest people in the world to me, but women who don’t aren’t coward. Why is it that a woman’s character is questioned based upon her reaction to a man’s bad behavior? Until you are in the situation, it’s impossible to know what you’d do.

“You ready to go home?” Declan asks as he steps back into his office, hand gripped tight on the door handle.

Disappointment swells inside me. He has to work, and he can’t babysit me all day. But I don’t want to be alone in an empty house, and I don’t think I can face Lake right now. I don’t want to talk about last night, and I don’t want to think about Jason or how close I came to being seriously hurt.

And what if Jason tries something again, and Declan isn’t there? A shudder works its way down my spine at the idea.

“Would it be okay if I hung around the station for the afternoon? I promise I’ll stay out of the way.”

Declan loosens his hold on the door handle. “You sure? I don’t mind taking you home.”

I try to hide my wince. I’m being so damn needy. “Yup. You won’t even know I’m here.” I stand from his chair and walk toward the door, forcing a smile to my face.

For the next few hours, I leave Declan alone. He’s clearly busy,because he doesn’t come out of his office all afternoon. That doesn’t mean I’m left alone, though.

While I’m pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge, Shawn Chase—the ex-baseball player turned firefighter, and Jules’s boyfriend—appears and introduces me to all the guys on shift. Then he invites me to read along with their book club and helps me download their current read onto my phone so I can join their discussion later in the week.

I spend the next few hours reading about two hockey players who fall for the same girl. When one of them tells her he doesn’t want to fight with his friend over her, my stomach tightens, and at the wordshare, I close the Kindle app and stand from the comfy couch in the lounge.

My imagination is running wild. Declan has been nothing but kind to me, and the last thing he deserves is to be the center of some taboo fantasy.

Cade is there, too, of course—how could he not be?—but he’d probably like the idea of it.

Needing a distraction, I step out into the bay. The guys are busy cleaning and organizing out here, so I stand off to one side and watch. I glance up at Declan’s office, only to find him standing at the glass wall, arms crossed, wearing a frown. He’s occupied with looking out over the bay, so I take a moment to study him unnoticed, relishing the freedom to take in all his rugged features. His cheeks are covered in a dark scruff, his jaw hard. Though his lips are almost always set in a straight line, his mouth is wide, and his lips are full. It’s impossible not to imagine pressing mine against them. I don’t see him being an aggressive kisser like Cade. Despite his gruff exterior, I think Cade is right. Declan would be gentle with me. The thought of Cade’s aggressive lovemaking, his dirty, hot mouth on my neck, and Declan’s soft tongue stroking against my lips has my cheeks burning.

Clearly, the book is getting to me.

I force my attention down to the floor in front of me, and an instant later, I feel Declan’s gaze settle on me. I don’t dare look up. Instead, I round a fire truck, my chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and hide from his scrutiny.

An hour later, I’m playing cards with the guys who work forDeclan. Shawn seems like a genuinely nice guy. Colby is the obvious playboy of the group. I swear he winks more than he blinks, reminding me a hell of a lot of Cade. Mason wears a plaid button-down open over his BFD T-shirt and a scowl. I can imagine that he and Declan enjoy not talking to one another often. Dane is a single dad of twin boys he talks about practically nonstop. It’s adorable.

But it’s been hours since Declan has interacted with anyone. He just remains in his office, and I have absolutely no idea what the hell he does up there.

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