Down and Out(82)

It doesn’t matter anyway, not after what I did tonight. I f*cked up. I really f*cked up. Declan said it himself, he’s done. I’ve pushed him too far.
Shit, he’s probably going to ask me to move out when I get home, lease or not. My throat aches at the thought, and I try to swallow down the knot.
I knew this would happen eventually and that it would hurt, but I never expected this magnitude of pain. It’s crippling, and it’s my own damn fault. I should’ve kept him at arm’s length, just like everybody else. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess. I’d be . . . well, not whole, but a lot more intact than I am right now.
I heave myself off the bench, trying to wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can. “All right, let’s go get good and drunk. I think I’ve had enough drama for the night.”

“Who was he? He’s cute,” Macy says as she approaches, craning her neck to get a better look at the retreating form of the guy I just shot down. He’s the third guy to come up to me tonight and say, “So you’re a fighter, huh?”
I think it’s safe to say those guys were less interested in me as a woman and more interested in bagging a “fighter,” so I politely told them all to take a hike. I’ve got my hands full with a certain fighter of my own right now, and I’m not looking to take on anyone else.
Especially when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the sex wouldn’t even compare to said fighter.
Yep, I’m ruined, all right.
Taking the drink she’s holding out to me, I scrunch up my face. “Cute? I don’t think so. That guy’s a troll.” ’Course I might be a little biased towards beautiful, tattooed men now, but still. . . “Cute” is not a word I’d use to describe that guy.
I snatch her drink from her and quickly down it. “I’m officially cutting you off. Your vagina will thank me for it tomorrow morning when you wake up alone.”
Macy tries to glare at me, but she’s too buzzed to keep it up. “I don’t know, my vagina’s been pretty lonely lately. I think it’s got cobwebs.”
I choke on my drink, my eyes watering as it burns my windpipe. When I can finally breathe, I wheeze out an “Oh my god.”
She giggles, but it quickly dies out as she spots something behind me. Her brown eyes become large, almost entranced, as she breathes, “Holy shit, why didn’t you tell me there were two of them?”
“What?” I frown and turn around, my jaw going slack at the sight of Declan and Blake walking through the crowd.
What’s he doing here?
A tiny flare of hope surges in my chest, but it’s dashed as I register Declan’s tightly drawn brows and the tense way he’s carrying himself. He looks anxious. Why does he look anxious?
“Hey,” he says, stopping in front of me. “We need to talk.”
Oh, God, he’s going to do it, isn’t he? He’s about to ask me to move out.
I glance at Blake, but his expression’s inscrutable. Ice shoots through my veins, making it hard to move from my spot. I seem to be frozen in place.
With horrifying clarity, I realize this is it. This is how it ends.
Surprisingly, I’m not at all prepared.
I look down at Declan’s arms, to the long sleeves he’s pushed up his forearms. I’ll miss those arms. And that face. And that smile. The dimples. . .
Nodding slowly, I say, “Okay.” It takes everything in me to get that one little word out.
I turn to Macy, but she’s too busy watching Blake with barely concealed lust. “Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?”
She nods and waves me off without even looking at me. “I’m fine. Go.”
Blake’s mouth perks up into a grin. “Don’t worry, Kitten, I’ll keep your girl entertained while you’re gone.”
Declan scowls as soon my nickname leaves Blake’s lips. He hits him on the chest and turns his back to us, lowering his voice to say something to Blake. It sounds kind of like, “Don’t entertain her too much.”
I set our glasses on a nearby table and follow Declan away from the crowded living area and down a winding hallway with several doors. He stops at the first one and tries the handle. When it opens, he gives the room a cursory glance before ushering me inside.
It’s a decently-sized guest room, with its own private bath. The curtains are open, the lights from the city below casting a faint glow through the otherwise dark room. A queen-sized bed sits in the middle of the room, neatly made with clean lines, just like the rest of the penthouse’s modern furnishings.
The door closes behind Declan and the sound of the lock sliding into place has me turning around to face him. Might as well get this over with.
“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m totally in agreement. I should move out.” I try to remain calm and detached as I say it, like that can somehow make this easier. It doesn’t, of course, but it needs to be done. It hurts too much to stay, and I can’t bear to hear him ask me to leave. So I’ll make the break, and I’ll try to make it as clean as possible. “I’ll be out by this weekend.”
I expect him to look relieved or happy. Instead, I’m shocked to see him look . . . well, shocked.
He’s looking at me like I’ve shot him.
Releasing a ragged breath, his brows draw tight. “What? Why?”
“Why?” Anger rushes me as I repeat his question. Declan wavers in my vision as tears threaten to spill, and I clench my jaw, trying to keep them in check. “Why wouldn’t I? Declan, tonight’s the first time we’ve said more than five words to each other in two weeks! Why would I stay for more of your punishment?”