Echo (Black Lotus #2)(60)

“Are you okay?” he says after a long span of silence.

I nod, but it’s a lie. I’m not okay. He f*cked me like an animal and left me in the cold. One minute he’s caring and sweet, and the next, he’s transformed—angry and silent, completely shut down and wanting nothing to do with me. And now, here he is, and I wonder what version I’m going to get.

He walks into the room, and I keep my eyes on him as he moves with ease.

“What are you doing out here? Aren’t you freezing?”

“I like the cold,” I tell him.

“I know you do.”

His words make me want to smile, but I refrain. Moving closer, he then sits next to me on the chaise.

“Where’ve you been all day?” I ask.

“In my office. I came looking for you because I have to leave tomorrow for London.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll be gone for just a couple of days.”

“What’s in London?”

“Business,” he answers, offering no further insight, so I inquire, “Another hotel?”

“Yes. I recently closed on the land. I’m meeting a few different architects tomorrow that I could potentially hire.”

“That’s really exciting.” And when I sit up, I ask, “When will you be taking me back to Isla’s?”

“I won’t,” he says evenly. “I would prefer if you stayed here where I can keep an eye on you.”

“An eye on me?”

He then looks away and nods his head in the direction of a small camera that’s attached to one of the steel beams that connects the panes of glass.

“They’re in all the rooms,” he states, and it makes sense that he would have that level of security in a home this massive.

“Declan,” I hesitate, feeling awkward about staying here while he’s away.

“I don’t trust you at Isla’s. Twice I’ve walked in on you hurting yourself.”

“But it feels weird to be here if you’re not.”

“You don’t like it here?” he asks, and I instantly respond, “No, it isn’t that. I do like it here. It’s just . . . ”

“Then you’ll stay put until I get back.”

“I don’t understand you,” I whisper weakly.

And with my words, he exhales deeply, turning to look away from me, dropping his elbows to his knees.

“Declan, please. Give me something to work with here. Tell me something to help me understand.”

He keeps his head forward, and the tension and struggle is all over him. The muscles in his back flex, and I can see the rise and fall of it as his breathing increases. I know it’s a reflection of his building emotions, I just wish I knew what they consisted of.

I want to touch him, but I’m afraid it will piss him off and he’ll leave again, so I keep my hands in my lap as I simply watch.

When he finally speaks, his voice cracks, along with my heart, as he says, “Your voice . . . the moment I heard your voice after I was shot, I did everything I could to fight my eyes open just so I could see you. I’d already read the file. I already knew you had been lying about everything. But a part of me . . . ” His voice slips before he takes a hard swallow and looks over his shoulder to face me, continuing, “ . . . a part of me wanted to believe I had gotten it all wrong and that it wasn’t a lie. But when he said Go, and you did so easily, leaving me to die . . . ” His face contorts with the pain he’s fighting to hide. “ . . . No one has ever made me feel so worthless and disposable.”

“I was scared.” My words tremble, not knowing what else to say. “I was so scared.”

“I was too, and you left.”

I hold my breath as I stare into his eyes that harbor the scars I inflicted. The burden of guilt that consumes me is paralyzing as I watch him expose the fragile pieces he hides so well. He’s a man who is nothing but strength and control, but in this quiet moment, he reveals just how broken he is. Broken and hurt, and it’s all because of me.

“When I came here,” he starts again, “I wanted nothing to do with you. I wanted you dead, but then I found myself outside with a shovel, digging up the flower bushes that surround the house like a f*cking maniac losing my mind.”

“Why were you digging them up?”

“Because you told me you hated the color purple, and those shrubs bloom purple flowers in the spring.”

And that’s the dagger that impales my fa?ade of strength. Tears pool in my eyes, and my body restrains to not completely burst into tears.

“My head has been so f*cked up because I can’t get you out of it.”

“When I was eight years old,” I begin, needing to speak because the sound of his voice is too upsetting for me. So, I distract myself and reveal another part of my past. Another denouement for him. “I wound up being moved to a different foster home. The one that would make me believe that monsters were real. I was terrified to the core, and when I was shown the room I’d be sleeping in, all the walls were painted purple.” Declan’s hand finds my cheek as I continue to talk. “All the years of torture and abuse were stained in purple.”

His other hand covers my other cheek, and he holds me. I don’t want to lose the touch, but I need more to remedy the sour bile that ripples in my stomach. Mirroring his affections, I cover his cheeks with my hands. A rush of comfort wraps around me as I feel the crackle of his unshaven jaw under my hands. I tug him in and he comes to me willingly, touching his lips to mine. We don’t move as we rest peacefully against each other.