The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(81)

She drew in some air, her chin quivering. “Madison sent a photo to our law group, and your lips were covered in the same color lipstick she was wearing. Madison has a reputation for sleeping with everyone. She’s been with professors, mentors—hell, she even slept with Dominick at one point. When I looked for you, you were gone, nowhere to be found. That’s the evidence I had, that’s the way I pieced it all together, and that’s the conclusion I drew. Maybe I got it all wrong, but it felt like I was right at the time.”

Every point she had made only caused me to be more furious.

Because she was thinking like a litigator.

Because she was quick with her words, coming right back at me with that fucking mouth.

“You still fucking lied.”

She paced to the windows and back to the chair. “What was I supposed to say when I walked through your door? Oh, hi, Declan. Remember me, the girl you fucked in the alley right before you left me to go take selfies with a whore? And was I supposed to say that to my new boss? On my first day of work?” She stopped walking and looked at me. “You know, you’re so quick to point your finger at me, but what about you?”

“I can’t wait to hear this. What about me, Hannah?”

“When I asked you if I’d done anything inappropriate, you said no. You had plenty of opportunities to tell me we’d had sex. But you didn’t. You said nothing about it. You withheld your own evidence.” She lowered her voice as she said, “What’s your excuse, Declan?”

My brows rose so fucking high. “You’re saying I lied?”

“I’m saying we’re both at fault here, so don’t stand there and look at me like I’m the only one who’s guilty.”

She had some fucking nerve.

I downed the rest of the beer and set the empty on the table. “I didn’t lie.”

“I’m not saying you did.”

I didn’t want to fucking admit it, but she had a point.

I could have said something.

I could have told her what had happened.

Fuck.

I tore at my hair, pulling it from both sides. “This is a goddamn mess.”

“Declan …”

I heard my name.

Her pleading.

Her emotion.

“Declan, please look at me.”

I looked at the ceiling, like the answer was written across the blades of the circulating fan. “I need time, Hannah.”

Time to figure this shit out.

Time to come to terms with everything I’d heard tonight.

Time to get my fucking head straight.

“You’ve said that to me before.”

I fixed our stares. “And I’m saying it again.”

She moved through the living room and didn’t stop until she was a foot away from me. “What does that mean? What does that even look like? That we’re—” Her voice cut off as a cry came through her throat. “That we’re over before we even really got started?”

I’d never seen her cry before today.

It killed me to see the tears start up again, soaking her cheeks, running over her lips.

I wanted to wipe them away.

And I wanted to scream that this never would have happened if she hadn’t lied.

“It means, I need a minute to think about this,” I barked. I just wasn’t able to control my tone anymore. “I don’t have an answer right now. I’m pissed as hell, and I need to cool off before I say something I’ll regret.”

“Declan …” she begged as I turned around and headed for the door. “Please, just hear me out.”

I halted and faced her.

“I care about you. You have to believe that. You have to feel that. I want to make this right.” She hugged her chest, giving herself the comfort that I wouldn’t. “No one has ever made me as happy as you have over these last few weeks. I don’t want to lose that.” Her lips quivered as she said, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Hannah …” I raked my fingers through my hair, taking in the intensity of her stare. “I feel the same way, but I’ve been carrying around this guilt, thinking I had sex with a girl who was too drunk to remember and then finding out she was my intern and the cousin of one of my best friends.” I hissed air through my mouth. “It’s just too fucking much for one night. I need time to sort this out.”

If I stayed, we would only go around in circles—a shape that wouldn’t help our situation.

This situation needed an end … whatever that end looked like.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Hannah.”

As I gripped the doorknob, she released a sob. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave? Don’t you realize I’m not fighting you, Declan? I’m fighting for you.”

Her words echoed through my chest.

Through my throat.

Through my head.

I stayed there, holding the handle, frozen.

Debating.

Weighing each side.

And then I twisted the knob to open the door, I walked into the hallway, and I let the door slam behind me.

There was always a fierceness in my body after I delivered my closing statement to the jury and left the courtroom.

A lightness in my step.

An emptiness in my chest from having purged every thought, every bit of research, making room for my next case.