Page 62 of Starting Over

I needed to do something with my hands. Normally, I would make tea or coffee. Or maybe start putting together something to bake.

But in this house, there was nothing I could do but walk. So I moved around. I paced small steps that barely made a sound.

“One day, about a year before he was killed, he told me he found the perfect place for me. He had been working on something. Researching something. There was something going on in the organization. He was close to figuring it all out, but he was worried if the wrong person found out, it could cost him.”

My eyes began to water as I thought about how scared he was. “He knew what he was doing was dangerous, but he was convinced that there was a mole. Someone who was working against the organization.”

Declan stiffened at that revelation. It was only for a fraction, and if I hadn’t been watching him, I would have missed it.

“He told me about a little town he found in Nebraska. He showed me pictures and articles from the paper about how quiet it was. The simple life I always wanted. He made me promise that if something happened to him, I would buy my way out and move here. So I did.”

Declan slowly turned around to face me. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he leaned back against the window, watching me. Reaching up, I swiped away the tear that had escaped.

“How long has it been?”

“How long has what been?” I snapped, slamming my fists on my hips.

“How long has it been since you were with Duane?” he asked, stalking toward me. “How long has it been since you’ve been fucked, Reenie?”

Chapter Sixteen

Declan

“How long has it been since you’ve been fucked, Reenie?”

I heard her gasp, and watched as her eyes widened and then narrowed when she glared at me. I knew she was pissed now. I wanted her pissed. When I turned around and saw her wipe away her tears, I got angry.

I didn’t want to see her cry for him. He didn’t deserve her tears. Not after what he did.

“Go to hell!” she shouted. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“No.”

Stomping over, she opened her front door like she expected me to leave. That wasn’t happening. Not after what she just told me.

Not after what he did. He was an asshole.

I walked over, wrenching the door from her hand and slamming it closed.

“I’m not leaving. Duane was an asshole. He knew what he was doing. He never thought about anyone but himself. He put you in danger, sending you here.”

“What are you talking about? He was your best friend.”

“He knew. He knew I was here, Reenie. He knew King was here. He sent you here, to me.” I slammed my hand against my chest.

I needed her to understand what was happening.

“He knew he was putting you in danger sending you here. Hell, what he was investigating put you and your daughter in danger.”

Her brows furrowed as she tried to comprehend what I was telling her. He hadn’t told her anything. He didn’t tell her what he suspected. He sent her here blind. He didn’t tell her what would happen if anyone found out what he was digging up.

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“After we moved, Duane and I stayed in touch. My mom let me write to him, as long as I didn’t tell him where we were. Every time I wrote a letter, we took a day trip somewhere to mail it. We drove to Mississippi, Tennessee, Louisiana. Once we even took a weekend trip to Texas. All so that Sal wouldn’t know where we were. When I got older, paid my own bills, we talked on the phone. Every week. I didn’t come home because Duane told me you were dating.”

“What?”

“He told me you started dating when you were sixteen. Then he called one day and said you were getting married.”

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