Page 83 of Free to Judge

I hold my breath, my heart collapsing at the same time it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest. Internally, I’m now fighting a warwithin myself. Should I wait for her to wake up? Should I let her sleep? I push a strand of hair threatening to tickle her away from her face as I decide I should let her sleep.

I should let myself enjoy these few quiet moments of peace before I leave.

I’m not certain how long I stare at the woman I’m hopelessly in love with. Every part of me rebels at the idea of leaving her bed. The sun starts to rise higher in the sky and I still can’t let her go.

Nor can I return the sentiment. I’m terrified it will place a larger target on her back than the one that’s already there.

Finally, I know it’s time. I nuzzle her ear and whisper, “Firebrand.” She lets out a small noise, her breath warm against my neck. The trust she places in me becomes another burden I have to balance because it’s born out of love—ours. The one we created in the long nights we spent here in her home, getting to know one another without the rest of the world interfering.

But as I drag her from her sleep, I realize she’s everything I’ve ever wanted but didn’t know what I was missing. The problem is, I have no idea how to go about keeping her—let alone keeping her safe.

Since she’s apparently dead to the world, I slip out of bed and move over to stand by the window. The sun’s warm against my bare skin, but in the few hours since Kalie whispered those words, my whole life has shifted off its axis.

I don’t know which direction is right. I only know I’m terrified because I want to just be with her, being me, not under the constant pressure of living the life of someone else—someone she’s supposed to despise. That’s who I want to be for her.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

Kalie rolls over in her sleep and murmurs my name. The sound of it, the vulnerability of it, tugs at my heart and my guilt in equal measure. I run a hand through my hair and pace the room.

Goddamn it. I have to do this, but I’m not sure how. I’m out of practice with being honest. I don’t want to hurt her. I want to be everything she wants, everything she needs. The only person she looks at with love in her eyes for the rest of her life.

I’m not able to tell her any of that.

Not yet.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to erase the self-doubt and hesitation. Now, I’m stalling. When I open them again, the sun’s higher in the morning sky. Kalie’s still asleep, but I won’t leave her without a word.

I lean over to brush a kiss against her lips. They’re soft and warm, and I feel them move when I pull away. Her eyes flutter open, sleepy and confused.

“Declan?” she asks, her voice rough but happy.

“Hey, firebrand.”

She reaches for me, and it takes everything I have to take her hand instead of lying back down with her.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

I sit on the edge of the bed. I open my mouth, wanting to say something she deserves to hear—like I’m just running out for breakfast or I’m going to get a drink. But I can’t do that.

What she needs is the truth and yet when the words come out of my mouth, they feel so mediocre in comparison to what she made me feel last night, I regret them almost immediately. “I need to know you’re safe before we can be together.”

Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

I reach for her hand, but she yanks it away. “Talk.”

Tucking a stray lock of hair away from her face, I murmur, “I made a promise, Kalie. And between that and us, you’re now in more danger. I have to let you go.”

Her breathing accelerates, but she doesn’t say a word. I try to make her understand again, “I have to believe if I walk away, nothing will happen to you.”

“You do, do you?”

I wince. Her tone is as cold as it was that day in the courthouse rotunda. Still, I try to break through. I reach for her hand. After fighting with her for possession, I clasp it between both of mine. “I swear, Kalie. Once this job is done, I’m yours.”

She’s silent. Emotions chase one another through her eyes before resignation settles over her face. Then a look of resignation darkens her gaze. “Right.” She pulls her hand back.

The panic that lands in my chest causes me to frantically reach for hers again. When I try, she slaps my hands away. “Just go.”