People always go on about the big three little words—I, love, and you—and I’m sure they’re great to hear. But there was no way they could be more powerful, more amazing, than these three little words. Saying ‘I believe you’ to someone who’s spent over a year not feeling heard or seen or believed in, those three words let me breathe again.
“I’m here for as long as you need me, and I’ll listen to however much you want to share.” He smiled. “As long as you don’t blame me for wanting to beat him to a pulp. I won’t do it—unless you want me to—but I want to. All you have to do is say the word. Deal?”
“Deal.” I reached out and touched his cheek, tracing the edge of his jaw and losing myself in his warmth. “You make me happy, prouder to be who I am than anyone else ever has. I thought I was strong enough.”
“You are strong enough…for anything.”
I shook my head, remembering how badly I’d frozen in what was supposed to be my big moment. “I thought I was ready to confront him last night, to tell him how much he’d hurt me, how much what he’d done had affected my life. But I wasn’t. And when he blew me off and walked away, I didn’t know what to do. Well, that’s not exactly true. I wanted to crawl into your lap, but since you weren’t there, I grabbed the only other thing I knew would help me feel better.” The rest of my explanation of the night and how my friends had helped me came out between blubbering and wiping away tears. I’m not sure how much of it he understood, but he never stopped listening.
“I did the same thing, except there was more than one bottle involved, I think. Fuck, I wish I’d picked up my phone. I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hand.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Well, that’s an argument we can have later, but for now…” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to ask you something, but if you don’t want to, don’t feel bad. In fact, to make it easier on both of us, how about you say ‘Not right now’ instead of a flat out ‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me?’”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I think you should bring some stuff over here. I’m not talking about putting your name on the lease or anything…yet.” He smiled. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in that house anymore. Not when that asshole can stop by whenever he wants to.”
“Wow.” Yep, that was all I could manage. I knew he wasn’t actually asking me to move in with him, but it was a big step in that direction. “Don’t you think it might put unnecessary pressure on both of us to make it official?”
“To make what official? I’m still not even sure we’re dating. But we seem to enjoy having sleepovers, have literally been as close as two people can be, and you already feel comfortable enough here to steal my coffee. Plus, I’ve walked in on you while you were taking a shower and hope to do it a lot more, so we don’t have to worry about those parts. Or did you mean that it’ll officially mean we’re exclusive? Because then, yeah, I think it will. But I’ve been okay with that since day one. Are you?”
I don’t think I’d ever get tired of his smile. “Yeah. I think I’m okay with that.”
“Good. Then you should bring some stuff over here and stay until you find your own apartment. I’m hoping to have at least another three weeks before the owner of this one finds out about Kitty being here and we get kicked out. So, maybe we’ll end up…”
In the time it took him to kiss my forehead, my mind went to all kinds of ways we could “end up”—living together, sharing a place, shopping for apartments together…
“…being homeless together,” he finished.
“Homeless?” Yeah, no one could possibly miss the disappointment in my voice. “That wasn’t the way I thought that sentence was going to go.”
“Really?” he asked innocently, his eyes giving him away. “Which way were you hoping it went?”
I shrugged. “Maybe we’ll end up being neighbors.”
“Only if you sunbathe topless and leave all the drapes open on the side facing my place.” He sighed. “But let’s not worry about the future quite yet. Let’s deal with right now. And right now, I would be very happy if you stayed here with me. For as long as you want to.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I would never have mentioned it if I did.”
“Thank you, Declan.”
“As if I’m not getting anything out of it.” He winked. “Oh, one more thing.”
“Geez, you don’t want much, do you?”
“I want as much of you as you’ll give me, for as long as I can.” He slipped his hand behind my neck and brought my lips to his.
I kept my eyes closed even after he pulled away.
“But how about we make each other a promise? No matter what or where or whoever we’re with, we pick up our damn phones and talk.”
“I can do that.”
“Could you also forgive me for assuming the worst?”
“Honestly, I would’ve done the same thing if I were in your shoes. I haven’t exactly proven myself to be forthcoming and reliable.”
“Then let’s start over. Get it right this time. You’ll pick up your phone, and I’ll pick up mine. Deal?”
“I like your deals.”
“Good, because I have one more for you. If you stop crying all over my dog, I’ll let you kiss me. But just once, because I’m suddenly very much in the mood to hold you for as long as I can and make sure no one ever hurts you again.”
“Deal.” I nodded, not sure when the tears would start. And for the first time ever, I didn’t feel like I had to hide them. Because somehow, Declan could already see them and knew exactly the right way to make them go away on their own.
For the rest of the day, I lay on the couch between his legs, leaning against his chest. The plan was to watch a movie or two. But we spent so long laughing at all the horrible-sounding movie descriptions and comparing which we’d seen, we both fell asleep before watching anything.
36
Declan
I was so damn happy with Sara in my arms. Pussy whipped was what Trevor would’ve called it. Crap. Why’d I have to think of that shithead? Talk about a turn-off. Focus on the tiny, smart, sexy-as-hell beauty who just happened to be tucked into my arm, her head resting on my shoulder. Her hair smelled like vanilla, and misbehaving strands of it tickled my nose.
If someone had asked me how I imagined the evening going, I never would have guessed it would be like this. Maybe I should work on my imagination. I’d spent all day and most of the night with the other most important female in my life. Thank goodness Kitty wasn’t the jealous type. And that she was falling in love with Sara as much as I was.
Oh shit. Was I? Was I falling for this woman who drove me nuts with insecurity almost as often as she drove me crazy with need? Yeah, I was pretty sure I was. My life was better with her around, fuller, deeper, happier. Even when we fought, it was passionate. And neither one of us was afraid to admit our mistakes or misjudgments. Somehow, that said more than anything else. We were still learning how to communicate, but I knew we’d taken a huge step last night. She’d taken a giant leap by trusting me with her pain. I’d taken a massive bound by not going directly over to Cal’s house and beating the ever loving shit out of him. Although, much of that was because I didn’t know where he lived.
She and I still had a lot to learn about being with someone, trusting someone, but major steps had been taken.
I jerked when my phone rang. Should’ve left it in the other room, but my charger was in here, and it was the only alarm clock I had for those rare times when I needed one. I quickly scooted my arm out from under Sara and grabbed the phone on my way into the living room. She needed her sleep. The last couple of nights had been emotionally draining for both of us, but she’d been the one to confront her demon.
Fuck, I really wanted to kill that guy.
I didn’t look to see who was calling until I shut the door behind me. What the hell? Why was Sam calling at two in the morning? I was going to
kill him, too.
I hoped to God he wasn’t calling because he was too stupid to call a cab. It had happened before—the guys got too drunk to use the Uber app or do anything other than call me to ask what they should do. Or, occasionally, they forgot how much I yelled at them every time they did it, and they would call me just to talk. In the middle of the night. While they were shit-faced, overly emotional, and thought they’d discovered the solution to one of humanity’s biggest problems.
The biggest surprise stemmed from the fact that Trevor had said he wasn’t going out tonight. I should’ve made him promise not to say anything. He was supposed to wait, so we could tell them together, maybe figure out how they could find a front man to replace me instead of breaking Self Defense up completely.
But regardless, if he’d broken the news to them, the least I owed them was a conversation. So, I answered the phone.
“Hey, Sam. So, I guess you heard, huh? Look, I—”
“Dec, you gotta come here.” His voice was slurred but panicky as if he’d just realized where he was.
I sighed. Yep, this happened a lot, too. “It’s late, man. Just call a cab or grab one outside. I’m sure you’ll find one. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“No, man. You gotta come here. Trevor’s fucked.”
Again, this happened a lot, too. “Ask the bartender to call a cab. He can drop you off first and then bring Trevor here. I’ll meet them downstairs and pay the driver. But we really need to—”
“Declan, shut up a sec! We’re at the hospital!”
“What—?” I inhaled sharply and then stopped breathing entirely, my mind overwhelmed with possibilities as to why the fuck they’d be at a hospital. I couldn’t come up with a single reason I wanted to hear.
“Pete and Trev got into it, bad,” Sam said. “Yelling about breaking up the band or some shit.”
“Fuck.” This was exactly why I wanted to be there when they found out. Not that I’d ever imagine them actually getting into it with each other.
“Then Pete chucked a beer bottle at Trev and took off all pissed…” He kept talking, but nothing he said made sense.
“Wait a sec. Pete hit Trevor with a bottle?”
“I don’t know, Dec. I was standing right next to him, but there were so many people. It all happened so fast, and we were all fucked up to begin with, you know?” Yeah, that much was clear. And obviously, nobody had sobered up since.
“But you guys are at the hospital now, so he’s being taken care of.”
“Yeah, man.” He got quieter. “It’s bad, dude. They…uh…they can’t get him to wake up.”
Fuck. How hard did a bottle have to hit someone to knock them out?
As quietly as I could, I went back into my room with Kitty following on my heels so she wouldn’t be kicked out again. I grabbed some pants and tugged them on while holding my phone between my shoulder and ear.
I tried asking Sam for more information—how hard Pete had thrown the bottle, had Trevor been bleeding when they brought him in, was there anyone sober I could speak to—but all I could get out of him was a bunch of different ways of saying, “Are you coming?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. But you have to tell me where to go.”
As soon as he said, “Saint Francis Memorial,” I hung up on him and put on a T-shirt. The last thing I needed right now was to hear a drunken shithead’s explanation of two other drunken shitheads’ fight.
Damn it. Why hadn’t Trevor waited like we’d planned? And giving the guys bad news when they were drunk? Not smart. If I’d been there, I could’ve calmed everybody down. Or tried to keep them sober to begin with.
I tried to be quiet as I slipped some socks and shoes on, but when Kitty jumped up and took her spot in the middle of the bed, she woke Sara up.
Sara sat halfway up and blinked at me. “Why is there a dog sitting on me?”
“Sorry about that. I think she was lonely.”
“Is it time to get up already?” She rubbed her eye and glanced at the window.
“No, babe. Go back to sleep.”
“Then why are you dressed?”
“I need to go check on Trevor and the guys. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Is everyone okay? What happened?” she asked, suddenly awake.
“I’m not sure yet, but I need to go find out. All I know is that the guys got into a fight.” Because of me. Because I’d decided to break up the band. “Trevor got knocked out or something.”
“Oh crap. Seriously? Can I help?” Being something beautiful to look at was already helping.
“Yeah, I need you to go back to sleep now and be here when I get back.”
“I meant with Trevor and the guys.”
“I know you did.” I gave her a quick kiss, trying to smile so I wouldn’t worry her. “Honestly, it’s probably not nearly as bad as Sam thinks it is, but he’s wasted. I’ll know more when I speak to someone from the hospital—someone sober.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I should come with you, just in case.”
I couldn’t ask her to come with me, even though, yeah, I wanted her to be there. But if Trevor had gotten hurt because of my revelation, it was my responsibility to take care of it. No one else’s. No one had forced me to stay in the band this long, and maybe not being honest from the beginning and letting it get this far had actually made things worse.
I should’ve gone out with them, explained why I couldn’t keep doing it to all three of them at the same time. Maybe we could’ve come up with some way to salvage the band. There were other guys out there who could sing like me, guys who could sing better.
But I’d chosen to be with Sara. Sure, I’d like to think she needed me to listen, but there were plenty of guys out there who would’ve given anything to be there for her, better guys who could’ve been there for her.
But she trusted you, you lucky asshole. She wanted you. Don’t go fucking up something this good.
I shook my head. “Stay here and keep Kitty company. Get some more sleep.”
“You can call if you change your mind, Declan. If you need anything.”
“Thanks, that means a lot. And I’ll call as soon as I know what’s going on. You just make sure you answer your phone.”
“That was our deal, right?” She nodded, her eyes still full of concern. “I’ll hold up my end.”
“And I’ll hold up mine.” I gave her a kiss and then rubbed Kitty’s head. “Take care of my girl.”
“I will.”
“Actually, I was talking to Kitty.” I kissed Sara again, grabbed my keys, and ran out the door.
“So, I’m your girl?” she called out to me.
“Yes, you are.” For as long as humanly possible.
Thankfully, a cab was passing by just as I came out of the building. I practically jumped in front of the car to stop him.
“You do that again,” the cab driver said as soon as I slid into the back seat, “and you’re going to end up getting a ride in an ambulance, man.”
“That would’ve worked, too. I need to get to the Saint Francis Memorial. As fast as you can get me there.” I tossed a few bills into the front seat—easily quadrupling the amount the actual fare would be, hoping the amount would encourage him to stop talking and drive.
“You got it.”
I was pushed back against the seat when he slammed his foot down on the pedal. I tilted my head back and looked at the cab’s dirty, dark gray ceiling. How the fuck did the ceiling of a car get dirty? I tried to care just to distract myself from thinking about Trevor and what had happened to him, or what could still happen. Any of those thoughts would be useless. I couldn’t do anything to help anybody until I got to the hospital, and even then, I probably wouldn’t be able to do anything.
I hoped to fuck that Sam had just blown everything out of proportion, and all I’d have to do was smack him for making me worry.
Unfortunately, my life for the last few years had been fairly devoid of anything but thinking about Tr
evor, the band, and how much life sucked. So, my brain wasn’t used to anything else. The only positive was Sara, but I didn’t even want to think of her right now. I felt like shit, anxious, and afraid. The last thing I wanted was to equate her with those kinds of feelings.
So, I flashed back to the last conversation I’d had with Trevor. He might’ve gotten the day wrong or purposefully making me think he’d wait until I was there to keep an eye on him. But he’d basically said he was going to go party like it was his last. And I’d been too absorbed in my own shit to realize what that meant.
The cabbie pulled into the ER’s loading area. I didn’t wait until he stopped—I shoved the door open and jumped out, nearly face-planting from the abrupt change in momentum.
As I ran through the automatic doors, he yelled, “You’re gonna get yourself killed, man!”
Nope, not myself.
37
Declan
I headed straight for the intake desk and gave the receptionist Trevor’s name. She slowly typed letters into the computer while I tried not to jump through the three-inch hole in the bulletproof glass between us.
“Declan!” someone called.
I turned to see Sam coming toward me. He looked like shit—dark rings under his eyes, pale skin, a terrified look on his face.
I met him halfway. “What the fuck’s going on, Sam? Where is he?”
“I just left him. Come on.” He motioned for me to follow, then asked the guard at the desk to buzz us through the huge metal door that led into the ICU.
I had to show the guard my ID, repeat Trevor’s full name, and watch him write my information down in the visitor’s log. Was it just me, or was everyone in this goddamned place moving in slow motion? Even the fucking door opened as if a snail were pushing it.
Immaterial Defense: Once and Forever #4 Page 25