Brother's Keeper I: Declan

by Stephanie St. Klaire

  Credit was due where credit was earned, however, and she didn’t spend frivolously. Just things to eat, flowers to enjoy, and a couple organic, vegan soaps and candles. The vegan part of non-food items stumped him, but he left that alone. He really didn’t want to know. Lydia smiled a lot, and he was happy about that, even if she didn’t have a lot to say.

  “Oh! Look, they have a yoga studio! Let’s go check it out!” She tugged at his arm, headed in the direction of her excitement, but he didn’t budge.

  “No. No personal relationships and cash only,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

  “So, I’ll pay cash, per class. I’m sure they have a walk-in deal. And…I’ll just ignore everyone. I’ll turn on my inner bitch.” A charming smile and a few bats of her eyelashes usually worked. Not today – smug muscles wasn’t impressed.

  “Lydia, it isn’t a good idea. We don’t want people used to seeing us…anywhere. And we may have to leave soon – for the trial.”

  If eye rolling were a sport, along with dramatic tosses of the head, then she was a gold medal recipient, ten-fold. “Prison. At least in real prison they get to exercise and stay fit. It’s like a right or a law. How am I supposed to exercise, stay healthy? You know, in case I actually do have to run?”

  “Do it with me,” he offered, not realizing how suggestive it sounded until it was too late. “I mean work out…with me. I mean if you think you can keep up.”

  Crossing her arms in a questioning huff, she popped out one hip, turned on her sass and challenged him. “We can work out at a gym but not a yoga studio? This should be good.”

  “You can put the attitude away. It isn’t cute on you.” He matched her cocky stance, crossing his own arms, accepting the challenge. “I don’t work out at a gym. I run and use my surroundings to do pull-ups, squats, and anything else I can come up with while out. You know, old school, before they had gyms. In the middle of war zones in third world countries, they don’t exactly have treadmills and shit. I’m up at dawn, and I won’t go easy just because you’re along.”

  Death glare engaged, she cocked her head, gritted her teeth, and poked him in his chest. “Oh you…are…on.”

  He wasn’t sure when he became the enemy, but it was probably better that she saw him as such because her hot temper had him hot in other ways.

  Declan made a nice dinner, using items she picked out at the Farmers Market. He enjoyed cooking, when he had the time or had a reason to. It wasn’t a hardship, but a guilty pleasure, and probably the better choice since he knew she didn’t cook – at all. For some reason, he wanted this meal to impress her, make her happy. She needed something good, and maybe it was a decent home cooked meal.

  Lydia sat on the deck, staring off at the view beyond the pond, lost in thought. He gave her the space she needed to work through whatever it was she was going through in that moment. He couldn’t help her if he didn’t know what she needed help with – it was apparent she didn’t even know what she needed. Her emotional highs and lows throughout the day confirmed that.

  Clinking of glass caught her attention, and she moved to the table to help him unload his full arms. At some point, he had placed her fresh cut flowers in a vase at the center of the teakwood table, along with a couple of beers, a glass pitcher of lemon water, and a candle lit decorative lantern. It was a nice touch, and thoughtful, too. When he set the plates before them, however, her tone changed.

  “This is steak,” she said, pointing out the obvious.

  “Yep, sure is,” he proudly replied, seeing his plan was about to payoff. Or was it?

  “I can’t eat this. It’s meat…” she chided, “animal meat! Animal meat isn’t vegan.”

  Already cutting into his steak, he sat with his fork in one hand and knife in the other, completely baffled. Was she trying to start a fight or already fully committed to one? “Then don’t eat the steak. There’s salad, grilled vegetables…this is all stuff you bought today.”

  Scooting her chair back from the table, she crossed her arms and turned her head away as if just being in the steak’s presence at all was putting her life at risk. “I didn’t buy steak.”

  Being a problem solver, Declan decided to remove the offensive meat from her plate so she could actually sit at the table and put a damper on the brewing feud she was trying to muster. He reached across the table, stabbed her steak with his knife and pulled it to his plate, offering her the best grin he could with a mouth full of whatever he was chewing on.

  “Ohhhh. That was classy. You’re really going to eat two steaks?”

  “Maybe…its pretty good shit, if I do say so myself.” Taking another bite, his eyes rolled back in a dramatic motion, and he hunched over in his seat. “Mmmmm, this is so good. You’re really missing out.”

  “Doubt it.” She would never admit it, but watching him eat that steak make her stomach silently ache – it smelled heavenly, looked it, too.

  “Dig in, Lyd. It’s getting cold. Vegetables are vegan, right?”

  Ignoring his question, she grabbed a fresh roll that they had picked up on their outing, adding plenty of butter before digging in. She picked at the vegetables at first, spending more time on the roll, clearly enjoying it.

  “So…that roll vegan?” he asked with a smug grin.

  “I don’t know; it’s just a roll. It’s…” she couldn’t even finish the thought because it dawned on her that he was likely asking because he already knew the answer. This was a trick.

  “I mean did the baker say it was vegan? Was there like a sign or something saying it was a vegan bakery? After all, its bread…you know, made with eggs, sometimes milk. I think these are buttermilk. Let’s not get started on the butter. The grass-fed label doesn’t mean it was made from grass milk. Is there such a thing as grass milk?” He paused as if pondering his last question when it was clear he was just being a smartass. “Grass-fed means the cows were fed grass, not grains…cows meaning cow milk…animal…not vegan. So that’s why I ask. I wouldn’t want you to hit an early grave or anything. How are the vegetables? Try the salad. Sooo good.”

  Dropping her fork on her plate in a loud clank, she crossed her arms yet again and said, “I need to order protein powder. A vegetable based protein powder – for my smoothies. I may be trapped, but that doesn’t mean I have to compromise my health.”

  “Vegetable protein? Is that a thing?” he laughed, adding insult to injury. “You need a cow for protein, not a cucumber, sweetheart. Anyway, no ordering online. Traceable – cash only.”

  Tossing her hands in the air, the real reason for her mood came to life, “I’m in a damn prison when that…that…asshole, Esteban, should be! This is…is…crap! Stupid…crap!”

  She pulled her chair back up to the table and grabbed her beer, taking a big long chug before slamming it down on the table. When she reached across the table with her knife, Dec leaned back, pulling his hands out of reach. She stabbed the steak on Declan’s plate and put it back on hers. She muttered something under her breath about kicking ass and taking names before digging into the steak on her plate.

  Declan wore a satisfied smile while they finished their meal in silence. Switching roles, she cleared the table, taking everything inside while he took some quiet time to himself on the back deck. She was in his head, and he wasn’t sure why, how, or what any of it meant. She challenged him; that he did know.

  Finally, he took the empty beer bottles in that were left behind, and locked up for the night. When he went down the hallway to his room, he noticed Lydia’s door was open, lights out, and she wasn’t in there. When he disposed of the beer bottles, the kitchen had been completely cleaned up and was empty.

  He went back through the house searching for her, guilt washing over him. Sure, she gave as much as she got in their dinner time banter, but he knew she was having a rough time and could’ve cut her some slack. But he didn’t, and now he didn’t know where she was. Surely, she wouldn’t just leave – or would she?

  Stepping just outside the f
ront door to see if the car was still parked there, something caught his eye just as he passed a window that looked into the front sitting room, the only place he hadn’t looked because it too was dark. Lydia. Her silhouette was highlighted by the bright moonlight that crept in the large front window.

  He went back inside and stood at the entrance to the sitting room where she sat completely silent, all alone, unsure what to do. This was completely out of his realm of expertise. He went to her. The article about her death that he had shown her earlier in the day had her complete attention. Tear streaked cheeks glistened in the moonlight, and his heart sunk.

  Standing in front of her, he said, “You are doing the right thing. Had you stayed or turned a blind eye, you eventually would have been named an accomplice. Even if you never stumbled upon his crap, they would have nailed you, too.”

  “But I didn’t know. I just…I thought he was having an affair…or two,” she admitted, total defeat lacing her broken words.

  “Can you prove that?” He asked, careful with his tone and choice of words.

  Crushed was the only way to describe her expression. “You honestly don’t think I could have known, that I would be okay with what he was doing.”

  “Of course I don’t, but it would have been our burden to prove. You’re his wife; they would ask how you didn’t know. It’s better this way. I promise you, Lydia.”

  As she continued staring through the front window, he saw her lip quiver in the moonlight. “You mean Emily Black. I saw the purse and wallet you put on my bed earlier. I found the money, but then I saw my face next to that name.”

  “I’m sorry you have to do this, Lydia.” Emphasizing her name seemed important in that moment. She was only Emily to the rest of the world if they happened to look in, but she was still Lydia.

  “Well, the town seems nice. it’s cute. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Besides, no one here will notice that handbag is a cheap designer knock off from three seasons ago.” Her attempt at humor to lighten the mood only drove her further into whatever storm she was standing in. The tears came hard and fast now. “Maybe tomorrow, it will be easier to be Emily Black?”

  She was having trouble coping with the idea that she, her baby, and her sister no longer existed. That was to be expected, and everyone deals with grief in different ways, but what he didn’t expect was how her sadness pained him. He was at a loss, so he did the only thing he knew to do and put his arm around her.

  She laid her head on his shoulder and began to sob. Her anger, her sadness, the grief, it flooded through tears and body quaking shakes, but she was getting it out. For now, anyway. There was certain to be more. Since Declan didn’t do emotions and certainly didn’t deal with tears of this magnitude, he just let her cry as it came in ebbs and flows. He would be her rock for as long as she needed one.

  Time started to run together, the hours passed on, and she finally calmed after falling into a fitful sleep. He held her like that for some time while he thought about the sacrifice she was forced to make. It seemed he had his own emotions to work through, but they were all for her, not himself. She didn’t deserve this; she certainly deserved better than her bastard husband ever gave her.

  With her legs pulled under her on the couch they occupied, she softened, nuzzling into him. It felt good. He liked having her there, holding her, comforting her even if it was wrong of him. He would do it as often as she needed him to.

  Declan leaned down, and whispered softly, “It’s not prison, Lydee. You’re saving lives. You’re selfless, brave, and making someone else’s wrong right because that is who you are. This is how you stay alive, here with me, because I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you…ever again.”

  In one quick motion, he pulled her into his arms and stood, carrying her through the house to her room. He held her close to his body and breathed her in before he laid her on her bed and pulled a blanket over her. Before leaving, he watched her for a moment or two, making sure she stayed asleep. He stroked his hand across her hair, brushing it away from her face in an affectionate gesture.

  He left her bedroom door open, as he did his own, so he could hear her through the night. Hopeful she would manage a decent night’s sleep. He knew he wouldn’t. He would listen for her and be right back at her side if she needed him through the night. It was all that he knew to do for her, and he was happy to do it.

  A NEW DAY, a new attitude, a new person. Lydia wasn’t kidding when she said she would meet Declan for morning workouts. At the ass crack of dawn, however, she wished she had thought better of it. No going back on her word now, though, not after the fit she went through. She needed to prove she was made of something more than spoiled privileges – not just to Declan but to herself. It was time to discover who she was and what she was made of.

  Regret wasn’t the right word for it, but the previous night’s meltdown showed a vulnerability that made her feel weak next to such a strong man. Lydia didn’t care if he saw her raw and emotional, but she needed to show Declan, and herself, that she could pick up the pieces and create a different outlook. One that was stronger, better, and less needy. She wasn’t a fool; she knew those emotional wounds were still open, raw, and not going anywhere – but she could work around them, build on them, and handle them better the next time they festered.

  Conquering her new demons was the objective – Declan O’Reilly was the method. If she was going to survive this, she had to survive him. He was hard, steely, had the emotions of a root, and grunted a lot, but the night before, he had been kind and comforting, albeit awkward for him. She craved that comfort. She supposed that she had for a long time, and now it was there, right in front of her, and she was afraid to take it because of where it was coming from.

  She was married, happily at one point. What did that say about her? It was becoming painfully clear that her marriage was very one-sided and that vows and honesty were optional, but she had been committed on every level. She did love Esteban, at least at one point. But now, she had to wonder; was it still love or simply habit that connected them?

  When Declan’s evening of comfort and kindness can give her more than her entire marriage could, she had to assume it was just habit. Despite the realization, she was still married, and she needed to remember that. The old Lydia had died – figuratively anyway – and she wouldn’t let the new her be a lesser version who lacked a moral compass.

  This was a chance to be a better version of herself, a real life do over. Starting with Declan’s morning boot camp. She wanted to exceed his expectations – for him to eat crow after that smirk he gave her on the matter. Truth be told, she wanted to exceed her own expectation and overcome all of her pampered obstacles. Being up before the sun was a good start.

  She dug through her single bag, looking for something to wear. Declan did most of her packing, and he was as practical as a they came. Neither had been thinking about clothing options for exercise; it was a pack and get the hell out situation. She pulled out a tank top and pair of sleep shorts, though, that left her feeling a bit on display.

  They were just clothes, and she was just going to exercise. She was dressed to sweat and make a point while grabbing a healthy workout, too. The new her wasn’t interested in turning this into a fashion show, nor was she dressing to impress anyone.

  Declan was surprised to see her so early. At home, she tended to sleep later, letting the nanny tend to Jax first thing. It wasn’t because she was an uninvolved parent, but because she stayed up half the night, waiting for her asshole husband. A husband who didn’t come home most nights.

  He felt that pinch in his chest again – she was a loyal, doting, wife – spoiled but loving, and Esteban couldn’t be bothered to appreciate what he had in her. She was the woman you wanted to come home to, proud to call your own. Declan was glad Esteban was out of the picture, and she got a second chance at a life she much more deserved.

  He hoped that her death, staged as it was, pained Esteban more than it pained her. He also hoped her pain
was enough to steer her clear of assholes like Esteban. For that, he felt slightly guilty, but only for a second, maybe two, because she deserved the world, and if a broken heart lead her to something better, so be it.

  “You’re up,” he said, completely unprepared for her.

  “Yeah, well…exercise,” she said, tossing her arms in the air with equal parts enthusiasm and sarcasm. “So, are we going to talk, or are we going to do push-ups or something?”

  “Something like that,” he chuckled, “are you…ya know…good?”

  She smiled sweetly, knowing exactly what he meant. He was checking on her. It was sweet and endearing. “I am. I am all good. One hundred percent…no…one hundred and ten percent good. For now. Let’s…sweat.”

  “Alright then. Let’s stretch real quick, and we’ll start with a run around the ponds.” He matched her smile, happy to see that despite all she was forced to work through, she was fighting back and finding her way. This was the Lydia he knew – the one she was destined to be.

  “The ponds, as in, there’s more than one?” She had underestimated their playing field it seemed.

  “Yes, more than one. This one here,” he said, turning and pointing to the pond just off their deck, “is the smallest. There’s a dozen of them out here between the tree’s and such. We’ll mostly run the perimeter and let nature work us out.”

  “Okay.” A nervous squeak entered the equation when she looked at the size of their pond as the smallest and thought times twelve. “Re-ready when you are.”

  Declan ran her into the ground. It wasn’t intentional. He just took his cue from her. The more he pushed, the harder she pushed back, and it was good for her. She persevered, overcame every obstacle he tossed at her, no matter how painful or hard. Exercise imitating real life? Definitely.