Hush (Black Lotus #3)(68)

RAIN FALLS AGAINST the window, its particles alone and bleak, waiting to be joined by other raindrops. And once mended, they fall, trickling their way down the glass. I lie in bed on my side and watch this endless pattern repeat itself again and again. I’ve been up for a while—I don’t know how long, but long enough to notice the storm intensifying every few minutes or so.

The somber clouds hang like a veil—cloaked in the darkness of dysphoria. I know the sun is out there somewhere far, far away. She refuses to shine her light on me, but that’s okay. I don’t want it anyway. I’d rather drown in my misery than be ridiculed by resplendent radiance.

The weight of Declan’s arm as he drapes it over my hip alerts me to his rousing. A part of me is angry that he knew and didn’t tell me that yesterday would be the last time I saw my dad. But at the same time, I need him close and for there to be no animosity between us. He continues to prove to be the one man I can count on. He’s all I have left—again.

I roll onto my back, snug up against him, and watch him watching me.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp against the strain of my throat, an attestation of how much I probably screamed and cried last night.

“You slap hard.” His lips tick in a subtle grin, and then he shifts, saying more seriously, “Don’t you ever be sorry for how you feel. It’s okay.”

I don’t say anything else, exchanging words for reticence. I close my eyes and seek solitude in the warmth of Declan’s body. We remain in bed for most of the morning, drifting in and out of sleep, because sleep is much more appealing than having to face the truth. Reality can go f*ck itself for all I care; I’d rather frolic among the fantasy of dreams.

Eventually, Declan decides it’s time to wake. I remain under the sheets as he calls up for coffee and tea. He then goes into my toiletry bag and finds my prescription bottle. I take the pill he hands me, and again, cheek it. Once he’s in the bathroom and I hear the faucet running, I drop the pill behind the headboard.

“He’ll be furious if he ever finds out.”

“He won’t.”

Pike stands and leans against the fog-covered window, looking out at the storm.

“Everything they told me about my dad was a lie, you know?” I whisper, keeping my voice low so Declan won’t hear.

Pike walks over to me, kneels beside the bed, and holds my hand. “I know.”

“He was everything I thought he would be after all these years.”

“Are you hungry at all?” Declan asks when he walks back into the room, and suddenly Pike is gone.

I shake my head when I look at him from over my shoulder and then turn back to the window. Declan encourages me to get out of bed and freshen up, and like a machine, I do it—all the while numb.

Did last night really happen or was it a mirage?

When I slip back into bed and sit against the headboard, Declan hands me the teacup. I cradle it in my hands as the steam ribbons into the air, eventually evaporating in a metaphoric display.

Declan sits next to me with his coffee in hand. He takes a sip and then punctures the silence. “Talk to me.”

I keep my eyes on my tea. “What’s there to say?”

“Tell me how you’re feeling?”

“I don’t know how to feel right now,” I respond despondently.

“Do you want to know how I feel?”

When I look at him, his face is marred in suffering.

“I feel like I failed you.” His words weigh heavy in the air between us. “I promised you I’d never let you fall. And when your father pulled me aside and told me it was his last day with you, I knew the best thing for you would result in you falling in the worst way possible.” He sets his coffee mug on the bedside table and then turns to me. “I was powerless to save you, and it kills me to know I couldn’t protect you from this pain. I was put in the worst position last night, and I am so sorry.”

Declan isn’t a man who ever apologizes, so to hear the sincerity in it is a blatant reflection of his grief. I want to say something, tell him I understand, tell him it’s okay, but it hurts too much to speak.

He leans over and opens the drawer to the bedside table, pulls out an envelope, and hands it to me. “Your dad gave this to me yesterday.”

I hold it in my hands for a moment before breaking the seal and opening it. His written words cover the paper entirely, and agony conquers numbness and takes over.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Declan.”

“It might help,” he suggests.

Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly before lowering my eyes to his words. Declan wraps his arms around my shoulders and holds me against him when I start reading the letter to myself.

My beautiful girl,

I know you must be hurting, because I’m dying inside. I wish I could be there to comfort you and wipe your tears, but I also know that you’re in good hands with Declan. I don’t want you to be upset with him. I told him not to tell you I’d be leaving. If I told you, I knew I’d never be able to leave you. I couldn’t have our last day together with you in tears. I hope you can understand that.

The thing is, the government found out that you and I had made contact. They stepped in, and as much as I hate it, I have to agree with them. Your association with me puts you at an unbelievable risk, and if anything happened to you, I’d never be able to live with myself. You are too precious for me to put you in harm’s way. Selfishly, I want you, but because of the mistakes I made in my past, this is how it has to be.