Page 161 of Always Be an Us

"Alright, you've said your piece," Eddie says. "Now, to the station, we go."

After they're gone, I notice Declan avoiding my eyes, playing with Amelia's hair as she sleeps instead.

"You saved him," I say, question and statement wrapped in one.

"You would have hated it if he died."

And just like that, I melt. That one simple sentence is probably the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to another human being.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I lean forward and kiss him.

I taste life in his lips and he probably tastes gratitude in mine.

I'm grateful for so much, but most of all I'm grateful he's alive.

I'm not sure how long we kiss, but at some point, I think I hear Amelia wake up and utter a sound of deep disgust.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Declan

"You didn’t have to come down here," I remark as I settle onto the couch in my hotel suite. I try not to wince as the position disturbs the wound to my side, not wanting the person seated opposite me to worry even more.

My father raises an eyebrow. "What, you thought I wasn’t going to come after they told me my son got shot?"

I sigh.Well, that's what I was hoping for. Left to me, my father would have never found out about the shootout in the first place. I had enough to deal with this week without adding him to the mix, but Amelia told her mother about everything that happened. After calling and chewing me out for not informing her earlier, Rachel called my dad and relayed the whole story.

Now they're both in town, Rachel spending the day with Amelia, and my dad apparently babysitting me.

"It’s not a big deal," I say. "It was just a flesh wound. Nothing important was hit."

"Yes, but you almost died from blood loss," My father says. "I may not have been the best father to you over the years but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I would have never forgiven myself if anything happened to you."

I frown at him. "Where on earth did that come from?" My dad wasn’t usually the sentimental type.

He eyes me with those familiar eyes and then crosses one leg over the other. He presses his lips together before he says, "I can't help but think that this whole thing has been my fault."

I raise an eyebrow as he continues talking.

"I was the one who forced you to come here and take on this project. I wanted you specifically on it because… well, to put it kindly, you were turning into a workaholic."

"You mean like you?"

He smiles grimly. "Yes, but that’s not a compliment. I worked all the time because there was nothing else for me to do. I thought that achieving goals and amassing wealth would fill the void in my heart left by your mother, but it never did. And by the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late. I’d already broken my relationship with my son and passed on my bad habits to him."

Discomfort crawls through me. I so don’t want to be having this conversation especially not with the pain meds still running through my system. And my mother is a topic I never want to broach. "Dad, we don’t have to talk about–"

"No. Please." My father holds up his hand. "Please, just listen. I need to get this off my chest."

My mouth closes. I have no choice now but to sit here and listen to this, as much as every fiber of my being rejects it.

Dad takes a deep breath, the sound of which seems to fill the room. "After your mother left me, I was angry. I thought she had no right to do it. I had done everything right. I was wealthy and I was faithful, and I thought that was all a man had to be."

He shakes his head and continues. "But I didn’t see how miserable she was. She never wanted any of it, you see, not like I did. For a long time, she only did as she thought she ought to, had a child because I wanted kids, and stayed married because she thought that was the right thing to do. Until she finally couldn't take it anymore. She was so deeply unhappy before she left, but I refused to see it."

"That doesn’t excuse her," I said savagely, unable to keep the hurt from my tone.

I still see that little boy in my mind, asking where his mom is, and why she isn't coming back. Even worse, as a kid, I frequently argued with my dad, blaming him for driving her away, when he was the one who stayed.

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