Page 18 of Trouble
And though I know Lake isn’t like them?—
“Mel,” she says, softer now, her expression full of sympathy.
Dammit. I can’t stand the pity, especially from my best friend. “Can we watch a movie?” I snag the remote from the coffee table and press the power button. “Or, oh—” I say, my tone a little too chipper, “have you watchedBridgerton? It’s so steamy.”
She’s silent, watching me, worrying her lip, but I ignore the concern. Finally, as I select the first episode of season one, she settles back against the couch, her head falling to my shoulder, offering me the type of comfort that so few people could.
Hours later, we’re still watching, take-out and candy laid out in front of us compliments of Ford, and I feel like I can finally breathe again.
This is why I came here for the holidays. I don’t need the people who raised me. Family doesn’t have to be blood. These days, family is the girl I met at sixteen. The girl who helped pull me out of some of my darkest moments. The woman who sits beside me, eating copious amounts of sugar, just letting me be. Who hasn’t forced me to explain why I won’t go home for the holidays. Who hasn’t asked why I haven’tturned over the first few songs of the album I promised to Hall Records…
Family is the woman who welcomed me into her home with a hug and a smile.
It eases my mind knowing that her husband loves her enough to make sure I have a safe place to stay while also ensuring that she isn’t put at risk.If it were up to Lake, I’d be staying here, but Ford, who’d give her the moon if he could, put his foot down and worked with Beckett Langfield to make arrangements for me to stay with Declan instead.
Because Jason does make me a risk. I hate it, but it’s true. He’s unstable, and once he hears the rumor that I’m dating again, it will likely get worse. The only hope is that my plan will work. He’ll assume I’m in Boston with Cade, and he’ll never think to look for me at Declan’s.
Which is why despite Declan’s poor ass attitude this morning, I’m staying put. I can handle a grumpy roommate, and I can abide by his rules. Or maybe I can ignore my problems and have fun breaking each and every one of those rules.
Ford walks me to Declan’s door, where the man himself greets us. As they shake hands, I have to hold back a giggle. I feel like a teenager whose friend’s dad just returned her home to her own father.
Though I never knew my father, and I was in Nashville and living on my own at sixteen, so maybe I’m way off base.
Even so, I stick with the feeling, and the minute Ford is gone, I find myself acting like a brat.
“There’s a plate in the oven for you if you’re hungry,” Declan says as he ambles inside behind me.
“You didn’t have to wait around for me, you know. I’m not a child.”
Though I’m certainly acting like one.
I wince, prepared for his anger. I’d deserve it. God, Jason was right. I am a spoiled brat, and I do act like I’m too good for everyone.
Declan steps closer, his brows pulled low.
I hold my breath, readying myself for a lecture.
“I didn’t wait around,” he says, his voice quiet, serious. “It’s my night off. If I went into the station, the guys would accuse me of not trusting them and send me right back here anyway.” He grips his neck and meets my gaze.
My heart thumps hard against my breastbone when he’s this close to me, engulfing me in his masculine scent.
His eyes soften a fraction. “Okay, they did tell me that,” he admits, cringing. “And I didn’t make dinner; it’s from the station. Mason made lasagna. It’s his mother’s recipe. So you should eat. It’s good. Really. Okay, you’re making me nervous, so I can’t stop talking. I’ll just be over there—” He points to the living room, where the television is turned down low.
When I don’t reply, because I’m truly thrown off by his gentle demeanor, his nervousness, his shoulders slump, and he walks away.
Dammit.
“Thank you,” I call after him.
Halfway across the living room, he looks over his shoulder, though he keeps his body turned away. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about this morning. My sister tells me I’m shit at communicating, and well…” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
I nod, confused but also concerned that if he says anything else so strangely charming, I’ll either burst into tears or throw myself at him. Since I can all but guarantee he wouldn’t know how to handle either situation, I force myself to head to the oven and pull out the dinner he brought home for me. I’m full from all the junk Lake and I indulged in, but it seems important to accept this olive branch.
I return to the living room, plate in hand, and when Declan looks up, I pull up short. Shit. This was a bad idea. “Sorry,” I say, taking a step back. “Cade mentioned you don’t like messes. You probably don’t eat in here.”
“Was just surprised you were joining me. Figured you’d hide in the kitchen.” The smirk he gives me is so shocking, I almost drop my plate. Didn’t know the man had it in him. “Feel free to sit.”
I settle on the opposite end of the couch, keeping my plate balancedon my lap rather than setting it on the coffee table. The piece is beautiful, and I’d hate to damage it. It looks like the interior of a tree trunk, with swirls and natural designs in the grain. I could study it for hours if I had the time. So that’s where I focus, too intimidated by the stoic man beside me to meet his gaze again.