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Declan shrugged. "Rebuilding a house I bought. Doing some bartending."
"Bartending? Seriously? Where?"
"A place near my house. A neighborhood joint. I owed a favor to the owner to help out a couple times, and I kept going back."
"You were going to be the best the department ever had," Ryan said. "Everyone had you tagged as the next great?—"
"I know. Things change." He cleared his throat. "I gotta go make some other calls."
"Wait. Let's meet for a drink."
Declan felt his body tighten. "No."
"It's been years, Declan," Ryan said. "Time to stop running."
"I'm not running."
"Then what are you doing? Living?"
"I gotta go. Text me when you have info. And thanks." Declanhung up before Ryan could protest, then shoved his chair back and got up, pacing away from the desk. He felt restless and edgy. Just that brief conversation had brought his past back full force. Hearing Ryan's voice had been…jarring.
Ryan had been there that night. Talking to Ryan made the night come back. The humid heat. The starless sky. The whisper that split second before all hell had broken loose. The guns. The bullets.
His wife's face the moment she'd been hit.
The raw terror that had hit him when she'd grabbed her neck, and he'd realized that the bullet had missed her vest. The roar ripping from his throat as he'd run to her.
He didn't remember getting hit in the leg by the bullet that had taken him down when he'd broken cover to get to her, but the scar still reminded him of that night, of that aching loss that never left him, no matter how much time went by.
He braced his hands on the couch, sweat beading on his shoulders as he fought off the sounds of gunfire. Of shouts. Of that gasp, that last gasp that Diana had managed before she'd died?—
Of Piper. Who had been shot twice.Twice.
Fuck.
He couldn't do this.
He couldn't fake an engagement. Not with Piper. Not with anyone.
He was calling it off.
It was over before it was even going to begin.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Piper leaned back from the computer, unable to stop thinking about the kiss with Declan earlier.
The many kisses. The dance. Declan's smile. His protectiveness when they'd run into Clark.
Declan made her feel again. He made her want again. He made her soft.
She didn't want to be soft.
She had a goal. A goal she'd fought her entire life for. A goal that kept her mother's dream alive, which made her feel close to her. And now, she was on the verge of losing it forever. She had to stay focused. Not trapped. Not derailed. Not distracted by a man.
But the way he kissed…
The way he made her feel…
