Page 63 of Declan

Last night flashes back in pieces. The look in her eyes when she opened the door. The way her voice cracked when she laid into me. I deserved it. I knew it the second I heard her voice on the phone while Wesley was standing next to me, all sharp eyes and expectations. I was stuck between what I want and what I’ve built my life around. And I panicked. Pushed her away instead of pulling her closer.

I hate that I hurt her. And still, she let me in.

She shifts a little and lets out a soft hum. Her lashes flutter, and then her eyes open, hazy and half-awake. She sees me and gives this small smile that pulls something tight in my chest.

“Hey,” she whispers, voice raspy with sleep.

“Hey,” I say back, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Sleep okay?”

She nods, stretching a little under the covers. “Yeah. Better than I thought I would.”

“Me too.” I hesitate for a second. “Thanks for not kicking me out last night.”

Lena gives me a look, one part amused, one part exasperated. “I almost did. You deserved it.”

“I know,” I admit. “I handled it like an asshole.”

She raises a brow. “You gonna tell me what was so important that you couldn’t even give me two minutes on the phone?”

I sit up a bit more, letting out a sigh. “Wesley was standing right next to me. I couldn’t say I was talking to you in front of him. We were dealing with club shit and it was just a bad moment.”

Her expression softens, just a little. “You could’ve just said that. Instead, you treated me like I was nothing.”

I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “You’re not nothing. You’re the only thing that feels real in my life right now.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, and I let the silence stretch. I want her to believe me. I need her to.

“I don’t want to play games, Declan,” she says finally. “I want something real. A relationship. Not some secret late-night hookup.”

“I want that too,” I say without hesitation. “I didn’t think I could have something like this. But I want it with you.”

She studies me, like she’s trying to decide if she can really trust me. I hold her gaze, letting her see I mean it.

“What does that even look like?” she asks. “With the club, your responsibilities, and Wesley?”

“It’s messy,” I admit. “And complicated. But I’ll figure it out. I’ll make it work, because you’re worth it. I don’t want to keep you in the shadows, Lena. I want you in my life. All in.”

She squeezes my hand. “Okay. Then I’m all in, too.”

I lean in and kiss her softly, letting it linger. It’s not rushed or heated like last night. It's slow and full of promises. When we pull apart, I rest my forehead against hers.

“We’ll figure it out,” I whisper.

“We better,” she whispers back, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Because I don’t do halfway.”

“Neither do I.”

Lena’s kitchen is small, but cozy like the rest of her place. I lean against the counter, sipping coffee while she moves around in a sleep shirt and shorts, making us eggs and toast like we’ve done this a hundred times. It feels weirdly domestic. Normal. And I like it more than I should.

“You’re gonna burn the toast,” I say, smirking as the smell starts to drift.

She glares over her shoulder. “Maybe I like it a little crispy.”

I chuckle, watching her sway to a quiet song playing from her phone speaker. “You like it charcoal.”

She laughs, tossing the burnt toast and making fresh toast.

Breakfast is simple, but good. We eat at the tiny table by the window, knees brushing. Her foot slides against mine under the table, and she gives me a look that makes it really damn hard to concentrate on food.

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