Page 60 of Free to Judge
I refuse to let him wound me. “Then walk away, Declan. Walk away from me if you don’t want me to care. As for me? It’s too late for that.”
He completely misunderstands. “You’re damn right I want to get away from them!”
“Why?” I challenge.
“I don’t want them near you!” he shouts.
“You don’t want them near me? Why is that so important to you?”
He freezes mid-pace. His head turns slowly, as if it’s about to start spiraling counterclockwise likeThe Exorcist. Then, without warning, his shoulders slump in defeat. “Kalie, what will I do if something happens to you?”
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
Nothing, because what can I say?
Instead, it’s Declan’s words that cause a seismic rift to open between us when he declares, “I can’t do this between us right now.”
Stepping back, I clench my fingers into a fist. “What? This? Us?”
“Yes. To all of it.” His jaw clenches. “I can’t have a bunch of civilians screwing up what I’ve worked so hard for.”
His words infuriate me. “I’m giving you some grace. Despite knowingsomeof my family, you don’t know all of us.”
“I know enough from the stories I’ve heard.”
I try to explain differently “You don’t get it. If the family finds out I knew and didn’t say anything, they’ll never forgive me. That’s not who we are. We shoulder burdens together.”
“This isn’t just about your family. This is about drawing a line with people who don’t have a need to know.”
“They do.”
“They don’t.”
My voice doesn’t waver. “We really do. Why? So that this time, instead of being caught off guard, we’ll be prepared. This time we won’t be blindsided, and we’ll have people we trust at our backs.”
He stares deep into my eyes, then finally admits, “I don’t know how to protect you from this.”
“You don’t have to,” I whisper, my throat tight. “That’s not your job.”
He steps closer, our bodies brushing against one another. “Then why does it feel like it is?”
I don’t back away. Neither does he. Silence stretches between us again, heavy and thick. When Declan finally speaks, his voice is like gravel—worn down, stripped bare. “Why am I dreaming of you?”
His words cause my lips to part on a gasp. But he’s not done. “I dream of you, and when I do, for the first time in years, I sleep.”
My chest feels like it does when I’m entering the stadium after a medal race—like I’m sucking in air because I’m in an emotional chokehold. I can’t say anything because I’m afraid anything I’ll say will be wrong.
He lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against my cheek. “If you got hurt…”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that.” His voice rasps against my nerve endings. He shakes his head. “The man I’ve needed to become isn’t worthy of someone like you.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
His fingers tangle in my hair even as his eyes bore into mine. In them I see regret, guilt, want. Then, his lids droop and when he lifts his gaze to mine, there’s something else there.
Surrender.
