Page 27 of Feel Me

“Please tell me you got away. That you weren’t hurt.” His breath releases in stiff motions as if in pain. “Tell me you got away.”

Because his little brother didn’t.

The compassion and sympathy he demonstrates threatens to release tears I thought had dried long ago. “I got away,” I assure him.

He closes his eyes, long enough to release a breath and steady his breathing.

“It was summer and the window was partly open. He was drunk or high and stumbling. I was able to escape before he could hurt me.” I try to smile. “Dad was the assistant D.A. in charge of my case. He told me that from the first moment he saw me, he didn’t want to let me go.”

Declan’s gaze sweeps along my face. “I don’t blame him,” he tells me.

My heart stalls. He continues to take me in, like he needs to or can’t stop. I think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Your mother was a piece of shit,” he adds.

Or perhaps not.

I glance down. “I won’t argue with that.”

In the heavy silence that follows, the universe disappears, leaving us gently tucked within the soothing peace enveloping us. It shouldn’t feel this tranquil, my story after all is one of nightmares. But it is unbelievably serene, and despite that neither of us move, I feel Declan close in, the warmth of his body reaching out to stroke me.

We lose ourselves in each other’s stare. I can’t move and I barely breathe.

“Mel,” he says, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Yes?” I manage.

“I . . .” He clears his throat. “I’m glad you got away.”

“I am, too,” I tell him gently. Our moment is gone. I know it. I reach for my notes and skim through them. “Before we get back to Tricia, I need to ?”

“About your dad,” he begins.

“Yes?” I ask, lowering my pad.

“He’s?look, there are seven of us kids in the family. Six boys, and one girl who could kick our asses if we pissed her off enough. My mother raised us in a tiny three bedroom row home. She owned her own dry cleaning service and worked herself to exhaustion to put us through Catholic school. She’d take us to church every Sunday so God wouldn’t strike us dead for all the sins we’d commit Monday through Saturday. If it wasn’t for her, none of us would have made it out of the neighborhood we were raised in alive.”

He reaches for his pen, appearing pissed. “We barely knew our father. When he wasn’t working his part time job at the post office, he was in bed with his mistress. Those baseball games dads take their kids to? It was our mother who took us, and paid for our popcorn and drinks because that’s all she could afford. Those sports we were all in, the ones fathers are supposed to attend and cheer you on at? That was my mother yelling, and my brothers and sister cheering.” He looks up at me. “Ideally we’re supposed to have parents, a team that works together for their kids. But sometimes the team sucks, and only one parent steps up. That’s okay. You have one good one, you can take on the fucking world. That’s what your dad and my mother were to us.” He starts scribbling. “Now, what did you want to ask me?”

For a moment, all I can do is gape. Declan isn’t unloading to unload, he’s trying to bond with me.

He glances up when all I do is sit there. “Melissa, what else is on your agenda?”

“Your sister-in-law.” It’s what I say, because that area of discussion is professional, unlike my insane desire to kiss him.

“Excuse me?”

“I’d like you to consider Tess for SACU.” Again it’s what I say, and what’s relevant. So why am I focused on his shirt, and how I’d like to ruin it by ripping it open so I may trace my initials on his chest with my tongue?

“No. Tess is bright, but she doesn’t have enough trial experience yet.” His voice cuts off when he realizes I’m blushing. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all,” I answer although something clearly is. Within a span of a few minutes and with just a handful of words, Declan has turned me into one of those ridiculous women who pant after him.

Holy heavens. I want to have sex with Declan O’Brien.

CHAPTER 7

Declan

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