Page 34 of Declan's Hope

Heavy hands landed on her shoulders as Declan’s breath tickled against her ear. "How are you going to leave when you have nothing to wear?"

Good grief. Her clothes were probably still a soggy mess on his bathroom floor. She glanced over her shoulder at him and the small grin playing around his lips. "Do you have a pair of sweats I could somehow make work?"

The grin faded, replaced by a look of indecision until he gave a resigned sigh. "Mercy has left clothes here after she and Kara have gone swimming. I don’t think she’d mind you borrowing something."

Fifteen minutes later she sat inside Declan’s running truck beside her car still sitting down the road from his house, wearing a pair of his sister’s jeans and one of her t-shirts. In front of them, the EPA van pulled away with Garrett giving a short wave out the window. She contemplated the receding taillights.

What was up with him? Garrett hadn’t wanted to say anything more about Destiny—at all—even after she’d obviously tried to draw him into a conversation about her friend. But it looked like he wasn’t having any of it with the way he’d shut her down.

Curiosity ate at her, but it didn’t look like she would get any answers from him anytime soon. She’d have to sic Haven on him. Either way, that problem could wait for another time.

For now…

Her focus went to Declan’s quiet form at the wheel of his truck. The strap of a clean black eyepatch wrapped around the right side of his head disappeared into his hair.

"I wish you’d stay," he said low without looking at her. His hands fisted on the steering wheel. "I promise to behave."

"With Garrett gone, I’d imagine you would." She knew exactly what he referred to, but she needed to keep the conversation from going to anything intimate. She wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Probably because it hadn’t completely sunk in that she and Declan had…

Well, they’d not had all-the-way sex, but pretty darn close.

Declan’s head turned slightly, a glint of humor in his eye sparking something inside her. Not only awareness they were alone, but also a sense of satisfaction mixed in with a profound happiness. And not just at how her body had been sated by this man. But in witnessing the humor she’d missed in his gaze—seeing hints of his former self.

And I helped put it there.

"If I don’t get home," she continued, while holding his gaze. "We might end up with more visitors."

A short laugh left him. And, again, it filled her with intense joy. "Heaven help me if Haven and Destiny show up." Then he sobered and cast his gaze through his windshield. Several seconds of heavy silence followed, before his murmured, "I’m sorry," filled the confines of his truck.

She didn’t answer as she watched his jaw tense and the way he roughly ran his hands over the leather steering wheel cover. His eye cut toward her. The humor had left him, leaving in its place a vulnerability she doubted he’d ever let anyone see. His stubbornness precluded that. But he just had.

With her.

"Do you believe me?" He frowned. "That I’m sorry?"

She inched as close to him as the console allowed and brushed her hand over his hair, letting her fingers trace the strap. "I believe you." She searched that uncertain gaze—one so opposed to the man she had known him to be. "But I’m not the only one who you’ve shut out."

His eye closed, and her hand dropped to his hard shoulder as he leaned his head back against the headrest. "I know. I think I have a lot of groveling in my future."

"I wouldn’t go so far as that." She squeezed his shoulder. "But I think it wouldn’t hurt if you saw your friends. Your family. Maybe let them know you still care about them."

"I never stopped caring." He opened his eye and turned his head toward her, his stare pinning her in place. "About anyone."

Except maybe himself, but she wasn’t going to bring that up. Then her heart that had managed to slow down after so much had gone on the past couple of hours, sped up again when the implication of his words sank in. Should she take it to mean he cared about her? And in more than in an, I’ve just been where no man has gone before way?

His lips tensed as his gaze searched her face. Then he let out a quiet sigh. "I want to see you again." There went her heart again. "And not just for…" Red slashed his cheeks. "Well, anyhow." He cleared his throat. "I want to do this right."

"This?" she asked on a breathless note. This implied something. At least in her mind it did.

"Yes, this," he whispered, leaning over the console. His lips on hers were soft—tender. But then they were gone too soon as he sat away from her, his chest heaving as he ran his hands through his long hair and stared up at the headliner. Her eyes traced over his scowl as those same hands went to his beard and paused before grimacing. "But…"

She hated buts.

His hands dropped to his thighs. "Doing this right means making things right in all parts of my life." His focus fell back on her, another grin spreading over his face as his determined gaze held hers captive. "But don’t think you’re getting rid of me." And there he was again. The cocky, self-assured Declan she remembered from that first night in the hospital with Cal—the one who had looked at her as if he owned her. Goosebumps coursed over her skin.

Perhaps he had—even then.

He certainly did now.

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