Page 36 of Declan

Jeanne watches me for a moment, then pulls me closer, our hands linked as we sway to the music again.

“You’re allowed to be mad and still want him. You’re allowed to feel both, Lee.”

I nod, throat tight. Because she’s right. I’ve been so tangled up in Declan, what he did, what he didn’t say, what he still makes me feel.

The beat drops, and we dance harder, hips rolling, hands in the air. I let the lights blur my vision, let the bass steal my heartbeat, let the alcohol Jeanne passes to me numb the edges.

But even here, in the center of chaos, surrounded by strangers and strobe lights, my eyes keep finding his.

And I don’t know if I can keep fighting this.

But Jeanne and I keep dancing.

And keep drinking.

I let the alcohol wash over me, let the music fill the space in my chest where my thoughts of Declan live. I pretend those thoughts aren't there. Pretend I’m not consumed by the one man I’ll never truly be free of. The one I’ll forever want, no matter how much he’s hurt me.

The night slips by in neon flashes and bass drops, laughter and warmth buzzing around me like static. When I finally glancetoward the bar again, I see them. All the guys from Shattered Souls. Loud, rowdy, familiar. They’re throwing back shots, their laughter echoing even over the music.

All of them, except him.

He hasn’t moved. Still there, still watching me. His eyes haven’t left mine all night, like I’m the only thing anchoring him in the room. And maybe I am.

This isn’t how it usually goes.

When I’m here, he’s always distracted. Talking shit with the guys, tossing back drinks, entertaining the girls who flirt too easily, who press into him like he’s something to claim.

But tonight? It’s different.

He hasn’t smiled once. Hasn’t looked at another woman. He’s looking at me, and it’s setting fire to every nerve ending in my body.

“Lee,” Jeanne says, cutting into my thoughts as she sways toward me, flushed and grinning. “I’m gonna go talk to them.”

My stomach twists. “What?”

She’s already moving in that direction when she points, her meaning clear.

The club.Hisclub.

“Oh no, Jeanne,” I say, reaching for her arm. “You’re drunk. That’s not a good idea.”

She laughs, ignoring my warning. “Come on, live a little.” Her fingers lace with mine and before I can stop her, she’s pulling me through the crowd.

Each step toward them makes my heart pound harder.

I feel him.

His chest rises and falls faster, his jaw tightening the closer we get. He doesn’t say anything, but his entire body is tense, like he’s bracing for impact.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmur.

“Hey boys,” Jeanne calls out, flashing her megawatt smile.

Kadan is the first to turn, his grin wide. “Well, it took you longer than usual to make your presence known.”

Jeanne smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And I can’t believe no one’s offered me a drink yet. I’m offended.”

They laugh, the conversation easy among them. Jeanne slides into their circle effortlessly, already talking, already charming.

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