Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jonas

As I arrived home from yet another late overtime shift, I crept past the darkened kitchen. My last meal had been early afternoon. Maybe. The day was a bit of a blur. I'd need to eat before bed, but first, I needed to locate Oz and see if he needed to go out.

And okay, I wanted to see if there was any chance Declan was still awake. I wouldn't wake him if his door was shut, but it had been a long, trying day. I wouldn't mind a friendly face. As luck would have it, Declan's door was cracked, and the glow from a low lamp escaped into the hallway. And there was my traitorous dog curled up with Declan, who was watching something on his phone while lounging in flannel pants and a gray T-shirt.

"You're up late." I stepped inside his room, happy to find him awake but also a little concerned. "Sick headache again?"

Once a nurse, always a nurse, and predictably, Declan released a long-suffering sigh.

"Nah. Just a lot on my mind." Declan patted the scrap of bed next to him and Oz. "I'm glad the hospital finally let you go home."

"Me too." I yawned and stretched but didn't approach the bed. If I laid down, I likely wasn't getting up again until morning. "I'm starving, but do you want to talk about what's keeping you awake?"

"Eventually." Whatever was bugging Declan didn't sound too urgent as he hefted himself off the bed, Oz at his heels. "Let's find you some food first."

Declan seemed in an unusually bossy mood, so I happily trailed behind him to return to the kitchen. He flipped on the lights for the stove and island individually, which made the kitchen seem smaller and cozier. Standing in front of the fridge, he made a series of clucking noises and shook his head.

"Everyone was at the movie night, so there's not much in the way of leftovers. I'll make you some eggs or something."

"You don't have to do that." I tried to peer around him and find something I could simply grab and eat, but he pushed me toward a stool at the island.

"Sit and let me cook for you for once." He punctuated the order with a firm stare.

"Yes, sir."

"French toast, okay?" He pulled eggs, syrup, and bread out of the fridge.

"We're out of bacon again, but there's plenty of bread."

"Sounds great." I would have eaten canned beans at room temperature if he served them up, but Declan wanting to take care of me never failed to make my chest warm and light.

"French toast is one of the things I learned to make when my parents worked long hours."

"Awesome." I tried not to swoon as he expertly beat the eggs, milk, and vanilla together. "Speaking of, did your dad make it to the movie night?"

"Yeah, he was late, but no surprise there." Declan shrugged as he preheated a skillet. "He gave me a ride home, and I played with the cats for a bit."

"That's good," I said cautiously. Sean had been something of an off-limits topic for most of my friendship with Declan, especially since we started kissing. There was a lot of love on both sides of that father-son bond, but the love was complicated by the contrast between Sean's sunny optimism and Declan's more serious demeanor. "I'm glad you had the time with him."

"Yeah, me too." Declan exhaled hard, not looking particularly happy about anything, sizzling French toast included.

"What's wrong?"

"You should eat." He plated the first slice of French toast for me before adding more to the skillet.

"I will." Getting increasingly suspicious, I accepted the plate and fork before adding syrup. "But talk to me?" I narrowed my eyes at him as he turned away from the stove. "Did something happen at the movie night or with your dad?"

"Nah. It was good meeting John's friends. Always good to talk with fans and remember why we ride."

"Ah." I aimed for a sympathetic tone. His flat affect made more sense now. "You're missing racing again."

"I'm going to Arizona next week." He delivered the news in more of that matter-of-fact voice.

"Oh." The bite of fluffy French toast turned to ash in my mouth, and I struggled to swallow.

"Yeah." Declan passed me a glass of juice.

"The neurologist finally cleared you to race?" I'd known this moment was likely coming, but I'd done an admirable job of tricking myself into thinking otherwise.

"No, but the team wants me to get a second opinion." Declan quirked his mouth, not a smile, but not upset either. "Some doctor in Arizona they've lined up. The team needs answers for the season in a hurry."

"That makes sense." I used a professional, pragmatic tone. "Second opinions can be good."

Declan made a rude noise. "Take off your nurse uniform and tell me what you really think."

What I thought was that my soul was shattering and my heart would never recover from him leaving, but I couldn't let him see that.

"I think TBIs are always subjective. And as we've seen in various sports, rushing someone back is risky."

"You still sound like you're in medical professional mode." Declan glared at me, leaning across the island. "Talk to me like my boyfriend."

"Oh?" Blinking, I coughed enough that he shoved my juice at me again. "Is that what I am?"

"Well, you're not not my boyfriend, and friend really doesn't fit how often we're in bed together." Declan shrugged like this stunning announcement was simply a matter of logic.

"Sometimes we're only reading in bed. It's not always sex." I had zero clue as to what point I was trying to prove.

"You're my best friend, okay?" Declan tilted his head as if he were as confused by my reply as I was. "That better? And yeah, it's a secret thing, but that doesn't make you not my boyfriend."

"Fair enough." The brief moment when my heart had thrilled with his casual use of boyfriend evaporated as soon as he said secret. However, the sting of that reminder was necessary. Secret was all this could ever be for him. No amount of sweet midnight food making, reading in bed, puzzle solving, or best friend acting could change that. The bitterness of that realization loosened my tongue. "And okay, as your best friend recently promoted to boyfriend, I hate the idea of the team medically clearing you before you're ready. And I really, really don't like the possibility of them minimizing the risk of future concussions. I'm sure the team cares about you, but they also care about winning. Your long-term health may not be their top priority."

"I get all that." Declan nodded solemnly. If anything, he seemed calmer, like he'd been anticipating my objections.

"But you're still going."

"Yeah. I gotta see what they say." Another blasted shrug. He'd both wanted and needed my genuine reaction, but it apparently made no difference. "And I owe it to the team to at least show up and have the discussion. The season's about to start. They need answers I don't have."

"And if the new doctor says you can race? What then?" I knew the answer, but I needed him to say it.

"I don't know." He paced away from the island, no trace of a limp. He'd worked hard in physical therapy. I wished like hell brains were as resilient as leg bones and tendons. Declan came around the island to slump onto the empty stool next to me. "I guess I race the season."

"You sound super enthusiastic."

"Well, I haven't been on a bike in four months." He said each word as if it were an overly salty fry. "I'm probably rusty as hell without a ton of time to prepare."

"And that's your only concern?" I gave him the most pointed look I could muster.

"Well, obviously, I don't want to get hurt again." He exhaled hard. I continued to stare him down, waiting. "And obviously, I don't want to leave you. But I'm a rider. Hell, I'm a star. This is what I was born to do."

"No one's denying you're good at racing." My tone was just this side of snappish and my French toast was long forgotten. "And I'm glad to know you'll miss me. I'll obviously miss you too."

"Even if I race the season, that doesn't have to be the end of us." Declan's tone was earnest and, if I were honest, not unexpected. He had a good heart, and for all his flawed logic, he wasn't an asshole. He might be walking away, but I didn't doubt he was taking some real feelings with him. "I can visit. Maybe you can get some time off, and we can meet near one of the tracks."

"Declan. I'm over forty." I used my most patient voice. "I've been out a lot of years now. I'm too old to be someone's secret sidepiece."

Frowning, he held up a hand. "I'm not saying I'll never come out. Give me time."

"You think you're the first closeted guy to ask for some indeterminate amount of time?"

"No." His shoulders slumped, and he rested his elbows on the counter. "And okay, I get why you wouldn't trust me about coming out eventually. However, I'm not ready to lose you. I…"

My breath caught, waiting to see if he'd say it. But he shook his head.

"You're my best friend. The best friend I've ever had. Don't take that away from me simply because I have to go back to work."

God, he made a compelling case, one I was hard-pressed to deny.

"I'm not ready to lose you either. And I'm definitely not ready to watch you be hauled off the track with another injury, knowing I can't even go to you."

"It wouldn't be forever."

"I know." And I also knew we meant two different things there.

"And you might not even miss me that much, what with all the hours you've been pulling lately."

"I'll miss you." I gave up my attempts to stay detached. His dig hurt because it was true. I'd known since Valentine's that our time together was growing shorter, yet I'd continued going about my life as if it weren't about to crumble. "You have no idea how much I'm going to miss you."

"I don't like this." Stubborn tilt to his chin, Declan grabbed my hand. "I don't want either of us miserable."

"You have to go." I squeezed his hand. I could do this. I could be brave for us both.

"I do." Declan clung to my hand like he was dangling off a cliff. "Look, I know I'm being unfair and selfish by asking for time. Hell, I don't want to go if this is it, if it costs me you."

"I'm not going to hold you hostage here, and I'm not going to send you off with an ultimatum that you have to come out." I might want to. I really, really wanted to. But neither of those options would get me what I truly wanted, which was Declan in my life. "But I am realistic about what this means for us and what the future holds."

"Do we have to be realistic right this minute?" Declan used our linked hands to pull me closer until our knees brushed. He held my gaze for several long seconds, ample time for me to pull away from the soft, sweet kiss he offered.

"No." I kissed him back. Next week would come whether I kissed him or not. The way I saw it, I might as well store up all the wonderful things I felt in his presence while I had him.

"Can I come downstairs with you if I set an alarm to be back in my bed before the house wakes up?"

"I've told you. I can't say no to you." I kissed the top of his head before standing and offering him a hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey. It's okay. Not your fault you're so persuasive." I forced a smile. And it wasn't his fault. I'd known from the beginning that this was the only logical outcome, but when it came to Declan, my heart was anything but logical.