I pull his mouth back down to mine and we kiss, soft and slow as we grind against each other. Eventually, when we’re both panting and desperate for more, Declan grabs a condom from the nightstand and rolls it down his length.
He doesn’t stretch out over top of me, though. Instead, he rearranges me so I’m sitting in his lap, facing him, legs stretched out behind him. I brace my forearms on his shoulders as he lifts me with one arm, positions himself at my entrance, and lowers me slowly onto his erection.
My eyes roll up and I moan his name. It’s been so long since I’ve been connected to anyone so wholly, physically or emotionally. And it’s never been as intense as this.
“You feel so good, Ave. So fucking perfect.” He rocks me over him, a slow and steady climb to the peak and a graceful swan dive into bliss. It’s gentle and intimate and terrifyingly real.
I don’t just love him. I’m in love with him.
22
STICKY LABELS
AVERY
Two weeks after the cast comes off my arm, I lose the one on my leg as well. My calf muscles have atrophied to the point where it looks like my left leg belongs to a preteen girl, complete with eight weeks of hair growth.
I don’t get Declan to drive me to Spark House after the appointment. Instead, I ask him to take me straight home.
I lock myself in the bathroom, fill the tub with bubbles, and have myself a good solid cry. Sure, I’m relieved that the cast is off, but I’m also disturbed by how horrible my leg looks. Especially the much longer, uglier scar that runs up the outside of my ankle, on the opposite side of the original scar from the soccer injury I sustained as a teen.
The scars I can deal with. I’m already aware that heels are pretty much a no-go, at least for the foreseeable future. Even when I can wear them again, they’ll only be for special occasions, and they certainly won’t be London’s borrowed stilettos. I’ve never been huge on heels anyway, so it really shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.
Maybe it’s because I’ve seen the women that Declan used to bring home on a regular basis. Usually some random from a nightclub, always wearing clothes that showed off model-perfect bodies. Even the very few women he’s kept around for more than a few weeks—but never more than a few months—have always been stunning and polished. At least in appearance.
Now I’m facing a long road of rehab, and eventually, depending on how my body adjusts, another surgery to have the pins and plates removed. But the thing that scares me the most is my ever-changing relationship with Declan.
In the days leading up to having my walking cast removed, he’s been hyperattentive, fighting with me to take it easy when all I want to do is push harder. It’s resulted in more than one argument. But in the past, one of us would find a reason to go out somewhere to take a breather from each other; now, we end up battling it out in bed.
It’s exhilarating and exhausting.
It’s terrifying.
I feel like even though I’m getting my body back, I’m more dependent than ever.
The only other relationship I can compare it to is the one I had with Sam, but even then, the connection is so much different this time. I’d been young, naïve, new to intense emotions, and painfully in love with him. It was the first time I’d loved someone so wholly.
But this is not the same at all. Declan and I have a decade of friendship as a foundation. He’s seen me through so many tough times, and I’ve seen him through just as many. I love him. He’s my rock and my safe place and has been for years. And now there’s a shift I don’t know quite how to navigate. It’s like he’s my other half. But I’ve seen his patterns, witnessed them countless times. Declan’s difficult family history and his trust issues mean there’s a very good chance we’re heading for disaster, and this time the collision isn’t going to end in broken bones—it’s my heart that could be the casualty.
Still, every night I invite him into my bed and my body, and invariably my heart. All I can hope is that I’ve managed to work my way into his as well.
I already know he loves me. I just don’t know if he’s in love with me.
I pull my knees to my chest. It makes the left one click and ache, and I rest my forehead on them, breathing through another round of tears. I’m not much of a crier, but I feel like now that I’m about to reclaim my self-sufficiency, I’m also on the brink of losing something.
“Ave, babe? You all right?” Declan knocks softly on the door. “You’ve been in there a while.”
I have to clear my throat, so it doesn’t sound like I’ve been silently sobbing. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a bit.”
“I have a glass of wine for you if you’re interested.” The doorknob rattles. “Ave? Did you lock the door?”
I take a deep breath, struggling to keep my composure. “Yeah, I’ll be out soon. Just give me a few.”
Heavy silence follows for a few long seconds. “Okay.”
I exhale a relieved breath at the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall. I go through two razors cutting down the forest that has taken over my leg. I drain the tub and have to use the chair to finish washing my hair and my body because my recovering ankle and knee can’t take my weight for that long, and I don’t want to end up slipping in the tub and breaking something else, or requiring more stitches.
I take my time toweling off and wrap myself in a big fluffy robe. I barely even have the bathroom door open and Declan is right there, blocking my way out.
“Babe? What’s wrong?” He cups my face in his palms. “Have you been crying? Does something hurt? Should I call the doctor?”
I shake my head. Stupid emotions getting the better of me. “It’s just a lot to handle. I’m afraid of the road ahead.”
“It’s gonna be okay.” He wraps me up in a hug. “I promise.”
I want to believe him, but we’re about to leave our bubble, and I don’t know what the world outside of it holds for us.
I feel bad for even having that thought because when I come out of my bedroom dressed in sweats and a crappy old T-shirt, I find Declan in the living room, an entire spread of food and a bottle of wine on the coffee table.
He’s tried to replicate a charcuterie board like the ones my sisters bring over, but it’s the man version with a lot of cheese, whatever crackers he could find, some chips, nuts, and a bunch of broken-up chocolate bars. And it’s absolutely perfect.
A glass of white wine is sitting on the end table and the cushions are already set up for me, along with my quilt. A bottle of lavender body lotion rests against Declan’s leg. He runs his hands down his thighs and stands when I move into his peripheral vision. “I thought maybe you could use some pampering and a little bit of a celebration maybe? I know how hard it’s been on you not being able to manage everything yourself.”
“This is really sweet, Declan, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It wasn’t any trouble. I just took a bunch of stuff out of the cupboard and put it on the cheese board like I’ve seen Harley do before.” He chews on his bottom lip. “And I picked up a couple of bottles of your favorite wine. I know most of the time all we have is beer, so I thought it would be nice.” He takes my crutches and offers his hand.
“This is great, Deck, thank you.”
As much as I want to dive right into doing everything on my own again, I’m aware that Declan also needs to feel needed, and I have to be careful about how hard I push. So I let him fuss over me while I continue to do what I can to keep the burden off him.
He settles my legs in his lap and holds up the bottle of lotion. “I thought I could massage your legs while we chill and watch TV.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He gives me that look, the one I used to get all the time when he forgot to unload the dishwasher, or left his gross sweaty gym clothes in the washing machine without turning it on. “Do you not want me to?”
I don’t know why I’m so reluctant to have his hands on me when that’s be
en my predominant craving over the last several weeks. “They don’t look very nice at the moment, that’s all.”
He starts the movie and reaches over to turn off the lamp on the side table. It isn’t until we’re submerged in near darkness that he pushes my jogging pants up my calves to my knees. He runs his palms gently up my shins and back down. The left one, so bony and underdeveloped, is also hypersensitive, having been protected for the last eight weeks. His fingertips drag down, sending a shiver rushing up my spine.
When he gets to my ankle, my first instinct is to pull away, but he settles his palm on top of my foot. “Is it sensitive?”
“Yeah.” I nod and take a sip of wine, working not to psych myself out.
“Does your ankle hurt?” He skims along the scars on both sides.
“More like a dull ache. It’s stiff from being in the same position for so long. Bending is unnatural now, you know? It’s going to take some work to get the range of motion back is all.”
“I’m happy to help with that.”
“Are you now?” I fight a smile.
“For sure.” He presses his palm against the sole of my foot and pushes my knee up. “Working on your range of motion is definitely a boyfriend duty.”
His gaze meets mine, wide and uncertain.
It’s the first time he’s ever said anything about this being an actual relationship, let alone referred to himself as my boyfriend. I don’t want to upset the balance, especially not today. “Is there a list of duties I should know about?”
“I’m kind of making it up as I go along.” He taps his temple. “Obviously orgasms are on the top of that list. Watching rom-coms even when there’s a basketball game on, helping with your range of motion, preferably in a multitasking kind of situation where I’m also giving you orgasms seems ideal. You know, two birds, one stone.”
“Plus you get something out of it too.”
“There is that.” He kisses my ankle. “I don’t want to mess this up, Ave. I don’t want to mess us up.”
“Why would you think you’d mess us up?” I ask carefully.
“I’m new to this. To the whole being in a relationship thing.”
“We’ve been friends forever, Deck. I know we’re taking it to a new level, and there are obviously differences between being just friends and what we are to each other, but you’re too loyal to do anything that could mess what we have up.”
“I don’t know if Sam would agree with that.”
Declan never talks about Sam. It’s almost as if he never existed, so the fact that he’s bringing him up now puts me on edge. “Sam doesn’t really have the market cornered on loyalty, and I’m not sure what he has to do with us.”
He bites the inside of his lip, thinking for a moment before he answers. “He doesn’t. Not directly. I don’t ever want to put our friend group at risk, not like it was when Sam screwed things up.”
“That won’t happen, Deck. Even if for some reason we don’t work as a couple, I wouldn’t want you to cut out the guys like you did Sam.”
“If they made me choose sides like he did, I’d always choose you, no matter what, even if we aren’t together like this,” he says with conviction as he motions between us.
“Choose sides? What do you mean?” I sit up a little straighter.
“Shit.” Declan sighs. “I forgot you didn’t know about that part.”
“What part? What are you talking about?”
“When you and Sam broke up, he told me I had to choose between him and you. You were so hurt by what he had done, and I was so angry at him for being unfaithful. It wasn’t hard to make a choice at all. I chose you.”
“I didn’t realize.” My heart squeezes. But now it all makes more sense, the way he cut Sam right out of his life and never looked back.
“I never want to see you hurt like that again, Ave. Just the thought scares the shit out of me.”
“No relationship is perfect, Declan. They all have ups and downs. We’re going to have arguments, we’ll fight like we always do and get over it, because that’s how we are. We’re still us, just a little different.” I’ve been waiting for a conversation like this. Aware we’ve been circling it, almost like a wild animal, afraid of the bite should we get too close.
“It’s a lot different, though. I’ve never done this before.” He runs his fingertips up and down my shin. “I’ve never cared enough to do this before. Or let myself care. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to jeopardize that, and I’m worried that I don’t have the ability not to.”
“Just because you haven’t done it before doesn’t mean you’re going to mess it up, Declan. If anything, you’ll be overly cautious. And that’s okay. I think the good thing is that we know each other really well, and we’re comfortable enough to talk to each other when we can see there’s a problem.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
“We’ll take it one step at a time, okay? If you’re worried, we can talk it through. You’re better at this than you think, Declan.”
He nods, then peeks up at me shyly. “Maybe when you’re feeling up to it, I could take you out, you know, on an actual date with dinner and drinks at a nice restaurant. You can wear that dress of London’s, but for me this time.”
“That night feels like a million years ago. What a waste of time and effort that date was.” I relax into the cushions, sighing as Declan kneads the back of my calf. “I wish I’d stayed home and watched the game with you and the guys.”
“Yeah, me too,” Declan says quietly. “Things might’ve turned out a lot different than they did.”
“How do you mean?”
“I think I was kind of disappointed that you’d made a date and never told me about it.” His gaze shifts my way. “I guess it was unexpected.”
“Is that why you went out?” I ask, trying to understand what fueled his decisions.
He lifts a shoulder. “Of all the mistakes I wish I could undo, that one is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
23
BACK IN THE GAME
AVERY
“Do you want to drive this morning?” Declan spins the keys on his finger. He’s dressed in a crisp black suit and looks ridiculously delicious.
I pull the curtains aside and peek out the window. It’s overcast, but otherwise the weather is agreeable. My confidence behind the wheel is growing every day, but I still have trouble handling the rain. I’m hoping I get over it sooner rather than later.
“Sure. I can do that. Or I can take an Uber. That’s probably easier for you.”
“I don’t have a meeting until nine, and you know I don’t mind.”
“Okay. Thanks, I really appreciate it.” I sling my purse over my shoulder and follow Declan down the hall.
My travel coffee mug is already waiting for me by the door. As is a breakfast sandwich. Over the past two weeks since my cast came off, we’ve settled into a new routine as I ease back into full time at Spark House. We alternate making breakfast in the morning for each other.
We head down to the parking garage, and I get settled in the driver’s seat, checking mirrors and adjusting the seat, since my legs are significantly shorter than Declan’s, before I put it in gear and head for the exit.
“You’re still good with the guys coming over tomorrow night?” Declan asks once I’ve pulled out onto the street.
“Absolutely. The more they see us together, the less awkward things will be, right?”
“Yeah. I think so anyway. Maybe if Mark ends up going out with that Sabrina girl again, we could have a couples’ thing. Like a dinner date or something, if that’s something you’re interested in?”
“That might be good, but based on how things are going with Jerome and Stephanie, he might be hitting single town sooner rather than later.” Jerome has been on the fence about this relationship for months, but they’ve been together for a year, and their families like each other and get along, so he’s been trying to tough i
t out. The issue is that Jerome wants a family and Steph would rather have a dog or three.
“We can bring it up when they come over? See how they feel about it? Unless you want me to drop it in the group text?” Declan offers.
“Maybe do that instead? Just to sort of feel it out?”
The guys seem to be handling the new, changed dynamic in the group well, although it hasn’t been seamless. Not much has changed in the way we interact with one another, but there’s a new edge to our hangout nights, with Jerome and Mark a little uncertain as to where the new boundaries lie. I get it, because I’m just as uncertain, and I don’t want to create tension when there doesn’t need to be any.
“I’ll send a message later this morning and put feelers out. Sound good?”
“Works for me if it works for you.”
“Definitely works for me.” Declan drums his fingers on the center console. “So it seems like London is good with working with me again. She scheduled a conference call to discuss the Spark House portfolio.”
I smile, happy that things are settling with my sister. After I realized how much she was taking on, and how focused I’d been on myself and nothing else, I made a concerted effort to take the things off her plate that caused her the most stress, like client calls and follow-ups. I don’t even ask her permission since I know she’d just tell me she’ll handle it. They don’t really faze me, but they took up a lot of her mental energy. And now, with me back at work, she’s less of a stress ball. “It wasn’t really you she was angry at, it was me, but I’m glad things are finally getting back to normal.”
“Me too.” He gives my leg a squeeze. “There’s an event coming up and Go Green will be there. I’m going to name-drop Spark House and see if I can get them to reconsider sponsorship.”
“Don’t risk your account over it.” I also don’t want to get excited in case nothing comes of it. “Plus, I made some good headway with a couple of local wildlife preserves. They’re using Spark House to host a charity dinner in the spring. And London made a new connection with an ecofriendly party supply company, so that’s another great step.”
When Sparks Fly Page 20
