Page 122 of Free to Judge

“At least a week.”

I frown. “My injuries aren’t that bad, are they?”

“You won’t be racing this season,” she prepares me.

My nose scrunches up in displeasure. “Nothing? Not even a 5K?”

“Will it make you feel better to man a water station?”

“Only if Dad runs in a tutu again.”

A voice from the door vows, “If it makes you feel better, firebrand, I’ll make damn certain it happens.”

I groan. “Declan. I don’t suppose we could ask you to keep that from my father.”

He strolls forward to the opposite side of the bed from my mother. Leaning forward, his aftershave floods my senses, overriding the antiseptic smell of my hospital room when he presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. “I heard nothing.”

My mother mutters, “We’ll see,” under her breath.

Declan continues, “But that’s because I plan on running right next to him, tutu and all.”

My breath escapes on a small puff of air. “You do?”

His lips twist in self-depreciation before he turns to my mother to ask, “Alison, do you mind if I have a few moments alone with Kalie?”

She regards him thoroughly—her demeanor protective, not hostile—before nodding and squeezing my hand. “I’ll go update the family. Your Uncle Phil was threatening to lay siege to the hospital later,” she says, voice thick with emotion. She lingers a moment at the door until our eyes meet and hold. Finally, she gives me an imperceptible nod, as if reminding me what we talked about.

Nothing is simple when it comes to love.

After she leaves, Declan assumes her seat, scooting the guest chair closer. He doesn’t sit. Instead, again looms over me, both hands gripping the steel rail at the side of my bed. His face is wary, exhausted, and tentative. Still, a radiant smile breaks thetension when he’s done perusing my features and declares, “You look good, firebrand.”

I raise my brows, amused but grateful. “You’re a liar and a half, Conian.”

He laughs, hangs his head, and when he looks up again, whatever defense he’s built crumples. He’s just Declan—no more masks. No Mafia lawyer suits to hide behind like armor. No Hudson agent. Just Declan laying himself in front of me to judge. Almost as if he can read my thoughts, he says, “Last night I said I wanted to start earning you back. That begins today.”

“Why?” The question’s out before I can stop it.

He doesn’t flinch. “Because cutting you out emotionally before it almost became physically permanent was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. You were right to walk—no run—as far as you could away from me. You deserved to be wooed, treasured. While you slept, I realized how little I did that.”

“You’re not making a good argument for trying again,” I point out.

“Then how about this. I didn’t leave because I didn’t have feelings for you. I left because they were so overwhelming. I’d already lost one person close to me and…” His voice chokes up. “Well, you see how that turned out.”

My natural compassion wins over his obvious pain. “For what it’s worth, I think we gave Tanya’s husband something to think about last night.”

He corrects me. “No, you did because you care. You love and you love openly. Freely. I’m terrified the feelings I have for you are going to ruin you.”

“Which are?” My heart is thudding in my chest.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m not giving up on us. Not now, not ever.” He pauses before he adds, “And what I said to your mother?”

I snicker. “I didn’t take you seriously.”

He shakes his head. “No, that was a serious offer. I want to run with your dad. I’d be honored to wear a goddamn tutu if it means ending up in a place of pride on your desk—of becoming so cherished in your life again.”

I close my eyes. It would be so easy to soften. Too easy. But if the last twenty-four hours have shown me anything, it’s that I need to be more cautious. I warn him, “You have to know, after everything, trust is going to take time.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to be there by your side. I’m going to earn back your trust and your love.”