Almost Innocent (13 page)

Within seconds, it was a full-on, knock-down, drag-out brawl. Violent, unrestrained, and overdue. For every hit he landed, I gave him two more. At some point, he fell to the ground and tried to drag me with me, but I used every piece of me, lashing out with knees and elbows, and somehow managed to stay on my feet. The two kicks I sent into his abdomen weren’t necessary, but the fucker had them coming.

I stood back, my vision clearing for the first time, and I was shocked by the destruction I’d dealt. He was covered in blood and dirt, his left eye red and already swelling, and his arm clutched his side, protecting his probably cracked ribs. I waited a millisecond for the guilt to hit me, for the horror at what I’d done to my brother to dawn, but it never came.

He’d had it coming.

I didn’t offer him a hand up. He’d left me bloody and humiliated on the floor, and I was just returning the favor. He was lucky that I had self-control.

He had to have the last word though. He smiled up at me, teeth covered in blood, and snorted. “It’s pathetic how much you care about someone who only knows you because she’s fucking your brother.”

A few of my knuckles were split open, and they burned like a son of a bitch when I fisted my hand, but I ignored the pain.

“She’ll never love you. In her eyes, you’ll only ever be second place.”

“No.” Gabby shook her head as much as my hands would allow, and she dug her fingers into my chest as she stepped closer, bringing me back to the present. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop.” She moved her hands to cover mine, and she squeezed. “It’s you and me here. Just you and me.”

I nodded, desperate to agree, but his voice wouldn’t leave my head.

“Declan,” Gabby pleaded, “come back.”

Before I could respond, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine. Good Christ. That move shocked the shit out of me.

Gabby pulled back, eyes never leaving my mouth, a small pout on hers. “If you don’t kiss me back, Dec, so help me God I’ll—”

I didn’t let her finish whatever threat she was going to make. Instead, I grabbed her shoulders, yanked her back into me, moved my hands to her hair, and did what I’d wanted to do for years—kissed her as though she was made to be kissed.

She gasped my name as my lips moved down her neck, and I forgot everything but her. I walked her backward across the small open space until her back was against the wall. Bracing my hands on either side of her head, I pried my lips away.

“Say it again,” I demanded, needing to hear her tell me just once more.

She tipped her head back a little and gave me the most beautiful look I’d ever seen—one of pure love. “I love you.”

“God, Gabby.” I dipped down, leaning my forehead against hers. “I love you so fucking much. I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say it back.”

Her hand was cool against my cheek, but it didn’t stay long. She pinched my chin instead, tipping my face down to hers. “Now that we’ve established that”—the corners of her mouth tipped up—kiss me again.”

I always did have a hard time telling Gabby no.

I
t was all very domestic
. If someone looked through the window, they’d never guess that just a half hour ago, we were having a frenzied make out session in the kitchen that blew every one of my fantasies out of the water. If it had been up to me, we’d be upstairs right now, catching up on years of pent-up sexual frustrations. Yet always the gentleman, Declan had shut it down before it could go that far.

Now he sat on one end of my brown overstuffed couch, bracing his bottle of beer on the arm, while I sat on the floor in front of my movie cabinet, sorting through the DVDs and looking for one I knew I had. Somewhere.

“I can’t believe you never saw the ending!” I said again, shaking my head, completely amazed.

He chuckled. “I didn’t watch TV.”

I shot him a look of puzzlement over my shoulder.

“We could sometimes, if we wanted. But usually, one of the lifers picked the show. I read a lot.”

“Oh, yeah? Catch up on your Danielle Steel?” I teased, still searching.

Dec snorted. “It was one book, twenty years ago, you brat. I was curious.”

I smiled, knowing he couldn’t see me. I’d teased him relentlessly when I’d found a dog-eared copy of
Palomino
in his room when we were teens.

“But, yeah. She’s had a few decent ones come out in the last few years,” he said.

“She still writes?”

“Yes, you goof. She still writes.” Dec rolled his eyes. “I’d think of you every time I’d pick one up.”

Had he now? That made me stop and look at him again. He had the beer bottle to his lips and choked on the sip he’d just taken.

“Not like that,” he assured me, straight-faced, when he stopped coughing. “I remember you telling me that you wanted to see your name on the cover of a book one day, and you fully expected me to read it, no matter what the genre.”

I nodded, remembering my dream job clearly, but I didn’t want to talk about my book. “What else did you read?”

“Everything. From the
Harry Potter
series to
Hunger Games
, and yes, even
Twilight
.”

I clapped, practically jumping up and down. “We have sooo much to talk about! Favorite Potter book?”

“Prisoner of Azkaban.”

“That’s acceptable.” I nodded. “Favorite character?”

He made a thoughtful sound. “That’s a toss-up between Snape and Ron.”

My hand stopped in mid-grab. “Those are my favorites too.”

I wondered if he loved them for the same reasons I did. Ron was the ultimate friend—the boy who cared. He’d befriended the scared, lonely Harry on the train, and offered to share his food even though it was all he had. He gave Harry a real family and always had his back. He would have sacrificed himself just to save his friend.

And Snape. Well, Snape was the man who loved a woman who wasn’t his to love. When he lost said woman, Severus sold his soul so he could save her son. And he betrayed the most evil wizard to ever exist, pulling off the biggest double cross the literary world had ever seen, to ensure that that child would be safe.

Thinking about it, I turned and stared at the man on the couch. He glanced up from his cell phone and, catching me watching him, winked. Holy shit. Declan was my Ron. And he was my Snape. No wonder they were my favorites.

“I always assumed Luna would be your favorite.” He took another swig of his drink. “She reminded me of you.”

I laughed. That made sense, I guess. Just then I found the case I’d been looking for and snatched it out from behind the rest. “Ah-ha!” I held it up. “I thought we should start at the beginning.”

“Are we going to binge the way we used to?”

“Absolutely!” I slid the first disc of the first season of
The West Wing
into the Blu-ray player then joined him on the couch. He immediately pulled me into his side and rested his arm on my shoulders.

We’d spent hours watching this show together. I didn’t like remembering why I hadn’t wanted to leave Declan’s side back then, but I’d never forget how safe he made me feel during those first few weeks after Dustin died. Knowing I couldn’t leave his room without having a panic attack, Dec brought food and movies and let me hibernate until I was ready to face the world. Whenever I was missing him, I’d watch Bartlett run the country and feel a little better.

Before the first episode was finished, Dec’s phone started blowing up. He hit Ignore every time it rang, but then the voicemail notifications and texts started coming through.

“Do you want me to pause it?” I asked, already reaching for the remote. “Something could be wrong.”

As he scrolled through the messages, he clenched his jaw. Never mind
could be
, I realized, something
was
wrong. When he rolled his head back and forth, cracking the neck muscles, I knew something was very wrong.

“Do you have to leave?”

The question jerked him out of whatever zone he’d retreated into, and he looked at me quickly. “No,” he almost snapped. “Sorry.” He shook his head once and sighed. “It’s work. I don’t have to leave, but I do have to make a couple of calls. Do you mind?”

I smiled, relief washing over me, and shook my head. “Not at all. I’ll go see if I can scrounge up something yummy for dinner. Any requests?”

He twisted his lips in thought. “English muffin pizzas?”

I laughed. “Seriously?”

Dec’s mom liked fancy gourmet food, things that didn’t take five minutes to put together or ten to bake. The poor guy had never had poor man’s hamburger helper before I came along. Actually, I was pretty sure he’d never had actual Hamburger Helper either. But then again, neither had Grady. My opinion on food completely changed when I became a mom. English muffin pizzas though? They were a staple in my house.

“Absolutely.” I smiled, giving him a small nod.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

As I scrambled to get all the ingredients together, my mind wandered. I didn’t even know what Dec did for work now. He’d looked exhausted when he’d come here last night—wow, was that seriously just a short twenty-four hours ago?—but that could have been from any kind of job. Probably construction, I deduced. As an ex-con, it was easier to break into the construction industry than any other field.

The idea of him working sixty- or seventy-hour weeks on dangerous job sites bothered me. Especially considering he’d never had to do hard physical labor in his life. I had no doubt that Moira could have found him work, probably doing something for CI, but he hated taking favors. I didn’t want him back in that business, but I hoped he was at least doing something he enjoyed. In my mind, Dec would always be the man in a three-piece suit presenting his latest brilliant idea to a group of investors.

“You are completely lost in thought.”

Smiling, I opened the oven door and slid the pan in before turning to him. “I was just wondering what you were doing for work.” I shrugged. “We started with the heavy stuff, remember? We should probably get around to the small stuff eventually.”

He set his brown bottle on the table and pulled out a chair, motioning for me to come sit. He plopped down in the one next to me. “You’re right. But I don’t want to fight.”

I knew my confusion showed on my face. “Why would we fight?” I asked cautiously, knowing I probably wouldn’t like the answer.

He cleared his throat. “I’m running Callaghan Industries.”

That was a surprise. Declan had hated the company and, last I knew, had told his mother she could shut it down for all he cared. “Wow.”

He nodded, picking at the beer label. “There’s still a lot I need to tell you, things we need to talk about.”

“Apparently.”

“After Dad passed,” his voice hitched, and my hand flew to his. Colin Callaghan’s loss was one that I still felt. Dec took a deep breath. “After Dad passed, Moira came to see me. She wanted me to take over. I laughed at her. I was in jail—what in the hell was I going to do? But she told me that if I took over, she’d find a way for me to run things from inside. She did, so I did.”

“Which part of CI?” I heard the annoyance combined with worry in my tone. I’d never known exactly how many divisions Callaghan Industries had, but I did know most were risky, some illegal, and a few downright dangerous. I’d never asked Dusty the questions I should have and he’d never supplied information, so I had stayed happily in the dark.

“All of them.”

“Wow.” That was a lot to take in.

“We’ve expanded,” he added hastily, as if he didn’t think I would stick around to hear what he was saying. “We bought the old lumber mill and then the cannery and then the wool plant.”

“You renovated the mill district,” I realized, shocked. “You tore them all down and brought in new businesses.”

He nodded. “And now we’re landlords and business owners.”

“Wow,” I said again. It made me wonder. “Is that all you do?”

Sincere brown eyes met mine. “No. We’ve diversified our portfolio, but I still have family obligations, Gabs.”

My heart sank. Family obligations. Ah, yes. The ones that no one talked about. The ones that had gotten my father killed. The ones that had gotten my second father killed and had wreaked havoc on his family. I stood up, hurried to the oven, and busied myself with pulling out the mini-pizzas and checking them.

“Do you plan on running it forever?” I asked.

“No.” Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I heard him move across the room and wasn’t surprised when he moved in behind me. “My goal is to pass the buck as soon as possible and just run the development side. But the uncles don’t trust Mark yet.”

“Mark?” I twisted around so fast Declan had to step back. My heart started thundering, beating out a creative and intimidating rhythm, and I braced myself against the kitchen island at my back so that I didn’t fall over. “Why is Mark taking over?”

Declan’s features remained neutral, but he tensed up. “Fi doesn’t want it, and it’s just as much his as it is mine. I may have been making the calls while I was away, but Mark’s the man who made it happen.” Warm hands gripped my now-shaking shoulders and steadied me. “Gabby, what’s wrong?”

I shook my head, violently. “Nothing.”

“Gabby.”

I wet my lips and swallowed, hoping something would help ease my suddenly dry throat. Nothing helped. I shoved Declan’s hands away and yanked open the refrigerator door. I reached in the back for a beer and drained almost the entire thing before realizing I needed air. I was hot. So very hot. But I was cold too. Freezing inside.

“Gabby.”

Knowing I couldn’t avoid him anymore, I wrapped my arms around myself and met his worried eyes. “I didn’t realize you still spoke. I… I…” I stumbled over my words, unsure of how to say what I needed to say. The walls were closing in on me, and my lungs refused to work. “I didn’t know he was even still around here.”

“He never moved out of Watertown. After—” He cut himself off, and his eyes grew wide as if he suddenly understood. “Fuck.”

He stepped toward me, but I slid away, holding up a hand.

“Gabby,” he pleaded, taking another step.

I backed away again. He couldn’t touch me right now.

“Fi,” I started, frustrated that I couldn’t control the shaking in my voice. Or the shaking of the rest of me. “Fi doesn’t know. Does she?” Desperate—that was the only way I could describe my need to know that my lifeline was still there.

“No,” Declan assured me instantly. “Fuck, no.”

Relief should have started trickling through me, but my anxiety over Mark overshadowed everything else. He could have had Declan followed. My eyes flew to the cell phone on the table. Or Declan could have told him where we were.

My stomach convulsed, and I knew what was coming. “I need you to leave, Dec.”

“What?” Dec shook his head, his face pinched in confusion. “No.”

Pain hit, and I grabbed my stomach, sliding to the floor. “You need to leave.”

Another pang of stabbing pain had me doubling over. I couldn’t keep myself from crying out. It hadn’t been this bad in… I couldn’t think clearly, but it had been a long time.

I needed to get to the bathroom. I struggled to push myself up, but I couldn’t make the room stop spinning long enough to get my feet under me. Socked feet and jean-clad legs appeared in my peripheral, and I jumped away in fear. No. He couldn’t be here.

When the hand reached for me, I shrieked, spinning onto my back and trying to scramble away as fast as I could. He was faster though, and his hands grabbed my shoulders, blocking my escape. I slapped at him, kicking even, but the room wouldn’t stay still long enough for me to get a good shot in.

Memories danced in front of me, flying by like scenes on a merry-go-round, taunting me. I tried to follow the happy ones, twisting my entire body around to chase them, but they disappeared before I could catch them. Everything was moving too quickly. Then for no reason at all, it came to a grinding halt.

“Please don’t go,” I sobbed, knowing that he had to even if he didn’t want to. No one, not even Declan, could save me. Not now.

“Hey now, don’t cry.” Dec swiped the back of his hand across my cheek, the only gentle touch I’d felt in months, which only made me cry again. “Gabs, it fucking kills me when you cry.”

I gulped in air, unable to breathe, clutching at his shirt. How could I tell him what was waiting for me back at home? How could I explain what I was facing once he left? It wasn’t his burden to carry, but that didn’t mean I needed him any less.

It was the middle of August, and Dec was headed back to Boston University for his senior year. I’d once dreamed that we’d go to school together, but Dustin hadn’t wanted me so far away. I was happy for my best friend—of course I was—and so unbelievably proud of him. But he was leaving two weeks early, and that fact was destroying me.

“Come on, babe. Don’t cry. It’s not good for my nephew.” He rubbed my belly—something I never let anyone else do. It usually made me uncomfortable, but when Declan did it, it comforted me.

I nodded, inhaling deeply and trying to force my breath to even out. “I’m sorry, it’s these damn hormones.”