Page 75 of Declan

A few laughs echo around the room, and I move toward the table with the others. It’s loud and chaotic, just like every other dinner here. The guys talking over each other, someone always bitchingabout who stole the last beer, and someone else trying to claim dibs on seconds before the first plate is even full.

I slide into a seat at the long wooden table, tucking my legs beneath me and reaching for a roll as Wesley drops down beside me. A beer is already set in front of me, of course it is. He always remembers how I like it cold and uncapped before I sit. It’s the little things.

Declan sits across from me.

I feel it. Before I even look up, I feel it.

His presence hits me like a storm, quiet and slow-moving, but heavy, loaded with thunderclouds. I keep my eyes down, busying myself with buttering my roll, but I know he’s watching me. I can feel the weight of it, like his gaze alone is trying to pull my face back up to his.

I finally glance up, and he’s still there, eyes locked on me like I’m the only person in the room.

God, I hate that it makes my stomach flutter.

Wesley passes me a bowl of mashed potatoes and leans in. “You okay?” he asks low.

I smile at him, soft but honest. “Yeah. Just tired.”

It’s not a lie. I am tired.

Tired of hiding. Tired of hurting. Tired of loving someone who won’t say it out loud when it matters most.

“Good,” he says, ruffling my hair like I’m twelve. “We missed your sass around here.”

I laugh, a real one, and for a moment, the knot in my chest loosens.

Then Declan speaks.

“Wes,” he says, and I glance up just in time to see him push his chair back and lean forward on his elbows. “Thanks for the invite. Dinner looks great.”

Wesley grins, clearly pleased. “Yeah, well, I figured it was time for everyone to sit down together again. We’ve had too many fucking fights and too little damn family time.”

There are nods around the table, some murmurs of agreement.

“And,” Wesley adds, nudging me with his elbow, “I already told Lena, but I’m making her come back over tomorrow. I want you both here.”

My eyes snap to his.

Both?

Declan shifts in his seat, and my gaze swings back to him. His eyes are still on me, but there’s something different now, less fear, more intent.

“I’ll be here. We’ll be here,” he says, voice low and calm.

My breath catches.

Wesley just nods, oblivious. “Good. About time you two spent more time together again.”

I wonder for a second if he knows. If he suspects. But the moment passes when someone throws a roll and it hits Elias in the side of the head, and the table erupts in laughter.

Declan never looks away from me.

My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to break free from my chest. I stare at him, blinking slowly, trying to read between the words. We’ll be here.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t hedge.

He told Wesley we’d come. Together.

And maybe it’s not a confession, not a declaration in front of everyone, but it’s something. A thread pulling us back together after everything that unraveled before dinner.

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