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“It’s the adrenaline,” Declan says, coming to stand before me.
I know he is there, but him speaking still startles me. “Huh?” I ask him, looking up and zeroing in on his face.
“You asked why you were shaking,” he said. “Take your jacket off.”
I do as he demands, just moving on autopilot, not really knowing what else to do. Once I shed it, Declan takes it and hangs it by the door. My gaze follows his movements. He is wearing what I always see him in—a sweatshirt, jeans, and work boots. He crouches before me and runs his hands down my arms, his eyes scanning over me.
“Are you hurt?” he asks roughly, and I shake my head. He heaves out a breath and stands up, pacing in front of me.
“Why were you in the alley?” he asks as he moves back and forth before me.
“I missed my stop,” I reply wearily.
“You should have walked on the street,” he chastises me.
“I know, but I just wanted to get home, and I knew the alley way would be faster.” My voice is soft, just above a whisper.
“The alleys are dangerous,” he grinds out.
I close my eyes and heave out a breath, starting to get frustrated. “Yes, Declan, I know.” My voice is now louder and firm. “But I am tired and cold and upset and I just—”
“Why are you upset?” he demands.
I open my eyes and look up at him. Now I am really pissed off. Why is he being so bossy? I know I made a mistake; I don’t need to be chastised.
I open my mouth to tell him so, but instead I spit out, “What happened to your face?”
We stare at each other, neither of us giving in. It stretches until I can’t stand the stupid silence or staring into his chiseled face any longer, so I ask a different question. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to explain to you why I wasn’t in class.”
I look at him in confusion. “You wanted to explain to me?” I ask in disbelief.
Declan gives me a quick nod, so quick that if I hadn’t been looking at him so intently, I would have certainly missed it. It is on the tip of my tongue to ask why. Why did he, a man who gave off such a powerful and strong, confident, and in-charge vibe, need to explain to me? But I’m not sure if I want the answer to the question.
So instead I ask, “Why weren’t you in class?”
“I had a work thing,” he says. “Well, it was a family emergency, then a work thing.”
I don’t know him well, but something in Declan’s eyes looks, I don’t know, off. “Is everything okay?” I ask him.
“It will be,” he says darkly and laced with something like a threat. Declan sets his sights back on me and crouches before me again. “Is the shaking better?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t in class.” His voice is still even and flat, revealing nothing. “But then this came up, and I don’t have your number.”
“Okay,” I say, a relief I desperately want rising inside of me. I look him over again. “What happened to your face?” I ask softly.
“Business. Why were you upset?”
“I…” I stop myself. What should I say? The truth? How would that sound? I look over the broad-shouldered man before me. “Thank you for helping me,” I say to him instead, “before.”
He tilts his head. “Vivian,” he says, leaning forward, “what upset you?”
I search his face for just a moment and then breathe out, “You.”
“Me?” he asks, his voice softening in surprise, and I nod. I watch unnamed emotions flit over his features as he looks at me.