Page 90 of Gray Area

“Declan, I am telling you right now, if you ever bring me somewhere and leave me there with a fucking Tracfone and don’t answer your phone, I’m gone.”

It hurts. I’d rather she had slapped me across the face, but I take it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do,” I admit.

“We need to work together,” she says. “Is everything better?”

I shake my head. “No, we are still working on things behind the scenes.”

“Well, all that would make a lot more sense if I knew what the fuck you guys were working on,” she points out. She breathesheavily, fuming mad, and paces around a bit. “I am glad to be home,” she says softly after a while.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” I say. I ache to touch her. But I see the anger in her face, her body, her eyes.

Vivian suddenly walks over to me and slides her arms around me, and I cautiously wrap my arms around her back. I feel her shake as she cries, and I hold her tighter.

“I love you, Vivian. I’m sorry I did that, but everything I do is because I love you.”

Vivian leans her head back, her cheeks tear-stained. “I love you too, Declan. But this isn’t the way to do this, to keep me safe.”

I wipe her cheeks with my fingers. “I don’t know what to do; this is all new to me. Axel and Slade can handle themselves, and my dad could do the same until recently. I sent Dad and Roman away because I saw the danger coming, and when you got mentioned in this whole thing, it was all I could think to do.”

“I know you meant well, but I can’t live this way,” she says. “I have been shuffled around my whole life, Declan. Those people wanted to protect me too, and they didn’t talk to me, because I was a child. I’m not a child anymore. I deserve a say in my life, so you need to give me a say from now on.”

I nod. “I get it; I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder,” I promise.

“Thank you,” she says, curling into me again.

And for a minute, I think I may get it all right after all.

Chapter 55

VIVIAN

After we spend my first night back together, Declan leaves every day, and I don’t see him until night, if he even comes home at all. When he does, Declan showers and comes to me in bed in the early hours of the morning, smelling like fresh soap, and makes love to me.

Each night I think it is a dream, and I crave his touch and his security so much that I throw myself into him. And when we have each found our release, our pleasure, and cried out one another’s name, I cling to him, thinking he will be there when I wake up, but he never is.

Five nights in a row this happens. He doesn’t even say goodbye to me or leave me a note. He comes in while I am asleep, then leaves while I am still asleep. On the sixth night, I decide to stay up for him.

I sit on the couch in the dark and wait for Declan to come home. I watch as he comes in, so completely silent, if I hadn’t seen him I wouldn’t have even known he was there. He goes straight to the bathroom, and I hear the shower. I stay so still and listen, hearing him open the curtain, then get in, the sound of water hitting his body, and then the shower shuts off. Another minute or two passes before Declan exits the bathroom. I admire his muscled, god-like body as he moves in the shadows, just a towel around his waist, and goes into the bedroom.

I wait, ready to see his reaction. It’s so selfish, totally petty, but when I see him freeze in the doorway and rush forward, presumably to look for me, I feel a sick satisfaction. Declan runs back out of the room, and that’s when I speak.

“It’s fucking scary, isn’t it,” I say, and Declan stops at the sound of my voice, “not knowing where the person you love is, am I right?”

He doesn’t say anything; he just looks my way.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I demand, my voice hard, cold.

“Vivian.”

I wait, and he says nothing else. “What? What, Declan? What!” I scream. I get up and run to him and hit and slap and punch. I hit until my limbs are sore and he just takes it. He doesn’t move or try to grab me. He just lets me hurt him until I can’t anymore. Until I am sobbing and crying and I am just weakly putting my hands into him. “I can’t do this anymore!” I shout at him.

Before I fall, Declan wraps me up in his arms and takes me to the bedroom, sitting on the bed and cradling me against him. “It isn’t supposed to be like this,” I hiccup out.

He presses a kiss to my temple, and I hate that I am soothed by it. I hate that I feel better by being so close to him. I hate that he feels like my home.

I stay in his arms, and finally the tears stop, and my breathing settles. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” I remind him in a whisper.

Declan kisses the top of my head, and then he tips my head back and places soft kisses on my face. He soothes them slowly over me as he moves and shifts to lay me on the bed. I should stop him, fight him, tell him that he doesn’t get to make me worry and stress and then share this with me. But I don’t because I can’t. All the time I spend with him feeds my soul. And right now my soul is starving.

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