Page 23

He accepts my reply with a single dip of his head. But then he quickly changes his mind. Shaking his head instead, he responds with, “Ishouldworry about it. My mom raised me better than that. And you, Declan, sure as fuck don’t deserve my hostility.”
I blame it on the alcohol immediately—the gentle, rolling sting behind my eyelids. But his words land somewhere softly in my psyche. Maybe if Jude, a near stranger, can look at me and feel that way, someday my parents could, too. I blink back the tears and swallow through the thick lump in my throat. It wouldn’t matter; I’m not sure I have it in me to forgive them, anyway.
The unwelcome thoughts recede as Jude’s stare digs deeper into mine.
“I am sorry,” he continues. “And I promise, I’ll…” pushing out a breath, he rakes a firm hand through his hair, “…do better.”
I can’t help the small smile that curves my lips. “I appreciate that.”
He nods, clearing his throat. “Okay, good,” he says, but his eyes don’t leave mine.
My smile stretches wider, his gaze flashing down to my mouth for half a second, maybe, in response, but it’s all I can feel. The awareness of it is like a featherlight touch skimming over my lips, reminding me of last night on the balcony, and how much I wished he would have pushed closer.
Close enough to feel.
Close enough to taste.
Close enough toconsume.
A heady hum buzzes beneath my chest as the image takes over my senses.
To my surprise, his gray irises burn with interest in return. But his knuckles go white against his steering wheel. “Stopfucking looking at me like that,” he says, but his words fail to land harshly. He breathes them out instead, thestopdrawn out, the rest of his sentence softer than I would’ve thought him capable of.
Still, I ask, “What is your problem with me, exactly?” And I cross my arms against my chest.
His response is a low growl—anactualgrowl—and it makes me laugh. I can’t help it. The tightness in my chest breaks apart with the light sound. He’s angry; he’s brooding; he’s kind; he’s helpful; he’s smiling; he’s scowling; he’s laughing; he’s apologizing; he’s snapping at me; he’s all over the damn place.
Maybe Jude really is a bit of a mess, too.
“There is no problem.” He growls—again,and my lips tick up at the corners in a lopsided smile. “Listen—full honesty, Coach has promised a reign of fury on us all if we even think about touching you, let alone—” He swallows his words with a heavy breath pushed through his nose. Enough time passes that I’m sure he’s not going to continue, before he says, “I’m not willing to cross that line and betray Coach’s trust like that. No matter how you look at me; no matter how much I’d like to. So, if you could knock it the fuck off, that’d be great.”
My renewed burst of laughter is unexpected. Hewantsto cross the line, butwon’t?Holy hell.
“Okay. Yeah. I can do that. As long as you stop looking at me like you want to tear my world down and kick my puppy while you’re at it. I didn’t do anything to you, you know. I just met you.”
His huff of laughter, the sound of it, tickles the nape of my neck. I have to look away in fear of staring at him like I’m desperate for him to kiss me again. It’s been three seconds, at most, since I agreed not to, and it already feels like an impossible feat.
“Deal,” he says, his tone stern, abrupt.
I stretch out my single word reply, my eyes wide as I say, “Really?”
“Really.” He pins me with his stare.
I smile. “So, friends?”
“Friends,” he agrees.
I’m not sure how much either of us means it.
Chapter Eight
Declan
The impact is sudden, loud.
Grinding metal, screeching and screaming against asphalt. Glass shattering and raining down on the inside of our car—on my skin, and in my hair, a thousand pieces of hail pelting against my body.
There’s so muchsound.