Novel Storm
55
Today had been a long day, starting with the early morning flight that caused nothing but tension between Declan and me, followed by meetings and food and lots of drinks.
I just wanted sleep.
I wanted to be able to shut off my brain and not see him every time I closed my eyes. Not hear his voice. Not question his uncertainty.
But I had a continuous loop in my mind, thinking about what had gone wrong, replaying so many conversations, contemplating our future, analyzing his reactions. It was exhausting.
I needed a Declan manual.
I needed him to help me make sense of this.
Of … us.
But he wasn’t here.
He wanted time.
He wanted to figure out if I was worth the risk.
That thought made me feel sick.
I pulled the blanket up to my neck, and as I reached for my phone, there was a knock at the door. I had no idea who it could be. I hadn’t called housekeeping or ordered room service. I didn’t think Walter or Jenner would stop by, unannounced.
Unless the knocker had mistakenly gone to the wrong room, that left only one other person.
Oh God.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!
I climbed out of bed and stopped by the closet, putting on a bathrobe to hide the tank top and panties I had on, and when I got to the door, I looked through the peephole.
Declan was on the other side.
He was still in his suit, hands flat against the door. With his arms extended, his head fell between them, facing the ground, like he was having a hard time holding himself up.
Was he … drunk?
Was he fighting with himself over being here?
The same way I had fought with myself to open the door?
Whenever we spoke, nothing got resolved.
My emotions would just explode, and I’d get angrier, more confused.
And then I’d find myself falling deeper.
“Declan … go to bed.” I rested my forehead on the door, my hand clutching the thick gold chain that kept the room locked, my other palm pressed against the wood in the same place as his but on the opposite side.
“I need to talk to you.”
My eyes squinted together, a knot as big as a boulder moving into my throat. “You can wait until the morning.”
“I can’t. Hannah … let me in. Please.”
There was something about the tone of his voice, the rawness of each word, the way his plea wrapped around my chest that caused me to unlock the chain, lift my face off the door, and open it.
His hands didn’t drop; they just moved to the frame, his body now leaning through the doorway. “You told me there’s something more important than learning from the best. You said that’s protecting your heart.”
It took a second for his words to register. “Yes, I did.”
“Because you think I’m going to break it.”
I couldn’t tell where he was going with this. If I needed to put up a shield or unzip my skin, allowing him to see right inside.
But I squeezed both sides of the robe together and replied, “I have to protect myself, Declan.”
“What if I want to be the one who protects you?”
I stared into his eyes, my hands shaking, the mountain in my throat now pressing against the back of my tongue. “What are you saying?”
His hand dropped from the frame, and he reached forward. I was about to move away, but his fingers caught me. At first, they grazed my cheek so softly, his touch like a whisper, and then he cupped the same spot, ensuring I didn’t move.
“I’ve told you, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a boyfriend. I don’t know how to give you all the things you need.” He looked down, the intensity fully exposed on his face. The lines deep in his forehead and the sides of his mouth. His knuckles white as he gripped the molding. He looked up as he added, “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”
A wave shot across my chest, like a crack in a frozen lake, a web spidering across the entire surface. “What are you telling me, Declan?”
His fingers fastened a bit harder on my cheek. “I want us.”
Us.
In my eyes, those two letters were as powerful as the ones that spelled love.
Still, I wasn’t sure he knew the magnitude of what he was saying.
What this actually meant.
It was one thing to want me, but it was a whole different thing to want us.
“Do you know what you’re telling me?” I searched his eyes, digging, assessing like I’d done in this room only minutes ago, a loop starting all over again. “Because I know you’ve had a lot to drink tonight, and by the way you stared me down when I returned to our table, you weren’t happy I was talking to the cowboy, and I’m sure that has something to do with this.”
“This has nothing to do with the booze, Hannah. It’s long worn off. I’m dead sober.” His stare expanded, and I felt it the second it entered me. “It has nothing to do with the cowboy either.” He stepped closer, his other hand now on my face, tilting my chin upward. “I need you to hear me. I need you to understand this.”
When I nodded, his fingers didn’t move.
“Okay.”
His gaze lowered to my mouth and lifted to my eyes. A pattern. And during each dip, my mind spun to every place imaginable.
“I can’t promise I’m never going to hurt you. I can’t promise I’m going to be perfect. I can’t promise I’m going to know how to navigate this or that my decisions will always align with yours. I can’t promise you’re not going to hate me at times”-he lowered his mouth, pressing our noses together-“or that I won’t lose my patience, making you want to kill me.” As he pulled away a few inches, his thumb brushed my bottom lip. “But here’s what I can promise you. You’re going to get all of me. I’ll be honest with you even if the words I speak aren’t the ones you want to hear.”
His eyes closed, and when they slowly opened, a pang moved straight into my heart.
“I’m going to try like hell to be the man you need me to be, Hannah.”
“Why?” I swallowed, needing to make sure this was real. Needing to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “Why now? Because this morning, on the plane, you said this wasn’t easy and you were deciding whether you were willing to risk it all to be with me.” The sting from that conversation was present in my eyes. “Do you understand how confusing this is when you go from cold to hot-“