Chapter 26

What the ever-loving fuck was wrong with me? I paced the length of the living room, anxiously running my hands through my hair. I couldn’t stay in the pack house. I couldn’t be anywhere near Genevieve. Not if I knew what was good for me—and her. Instead, I was back in Brady’s old house by myself.

Being alone was probably the worst thing I could be right now. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream. I wanted to drink.

Fuck, how I wanted to drink.

I paced, and I smoked—thank fuck he didn’t care if I did so in his house. I didn’t know what the fuck I would’ve done otherwise.

God, what the fuck was I doing? Fucking her and then just walking away like that? And aftercare? I was supposed to take care of her—make sure she was okay. The come-down after intense sex like that was always emotional for her. My job was to take care of her, and I’d fucking left her. I’d used my power over her and then just fucking left her.

Jesus fucking Christ, I was cold-hearted. I was a cold-hearted motherfucker who just left her there half-naked and a mess. What if someone found her like that?

“Fuck!” I shouted at the ceiling.

She could’ve been hurt. Who knows what anyone could’ve done to her after I left? Fuck, what had I done to her…

Pounding on the front door kept me from spiraling further. Anything to keep me from being alone.

“What the fuck did you do?” Declan demanded when I answered. Fuck, what a way to greet a guy. That dead-serious expression on his face didn’t help my mood.

“Hi to you too,” I grumbled and opened the door wider so he could come in. “What do you want?”

“Don’t play stupid, Killian,” he said. When I offered nothing as a reply, he sighed. “I’m here because she’s in my bed with my wife, my wife’s best friend, and my wife’s dog having a complete breakdown, and you fucking smell like her. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out that something happened between you two.”

My head cocked to the side as I processed what he fucking said. Wait, what?

“Your wife?” I asked, and Declan faltered.

“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking away as he silently debated something with himself. Finally, he reached into the small pocket of his jeans and took out a ring, slipping it onto his left hand. “We got married the week after I proposed. No one knows.”

Shit, my brother got married without telling anyone.

“Mom’s going to fucking kill you when she finds out.”

“Mom doesn’t have a leg to fucking stand on, considering she gave me the idea,” Declan shot back. “She and Dad eloped.”

“So, then why haven’t you two told anyone?” I frowned.

“Because it’s none of anyone’s damn business,” he replied. That sounded like the exact fucking opposite of what Declan would do. “But I’m not here about me. Talk, Killian.”

“It’s none of your business,” I told him. It fucking wasn’t.

“You made it my business when she showed up in my room. So, talk.”

“Are you picking a fucking side?” I snapped. Anger weaved through my stomach uncomfortably. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he was.

“Calm down, Killian,” Declan chided. He dropped onto the couch and got comfortable. “No one is picking sides, but I care about her too. And right now I want to know if you did to her what I think you did to her in your riled-up state after the bar fight.”

“It was no different than what you and Raven do.”

“Except we aren’t in the middle of a messy three-year divorce. And if you want to ask something about Raven, fucking ask it. I’ll tell you whatever you want but stop deflecting.”

Damn, the man knew me too well.

“I want to know about that douchebag best friend of hers,” I growled. Fucking Cade Locke. Between that wink and that outfit she was wearing, the man was fucking toying with me. I just knew it. And I wanted to know why.

“Leave Cade alone.” Declan sighed. “He’s a good guy. He and Raven are dating, he’s my friend, he spends a lot of time with Ginny. He’s family at this point.”

“I’m sorry, what?” My brows shot up. I remembered the commentary at breakfast in Colorado about Cade dating them, but I’d assumed Raven was just fucking with me. There was no way in hell my brother was involved in something like that.

“I said, he and my wife are dating. It’s platonic—”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is a thing, not that I have to explain it to you,” he told me with a shrug. Jesus fuck, maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. “He’s a good guy, he has a key to our house to come and go as he pleases, and he takes care of Raven when I’m doing my own shit. I’m also pretty sure he did my laundry last week. The way she puts it is that it’s unreasonable to expect one person to meet all your needs wholly.”

“That’s bullshit,” I commented. Except for the laundry part. I’d kill for someone to do my damn laundry.

“Look, I could kill myself trying to fill his place and meet whatever needs it is that he meets for her, or I could just leave it alone and let them be happy.”

“Yeah, but are you happy?” There was no fucking way he was happy like that. Declan needed to be needed. It was the foundation of his personality. Fuck. I wouldn’t want another man inserting himself into my relationship with my wife.

“Extremely,” Declan said, and I resisted rolling my eyes. “You don’t have to get it, Killian, but it works, and I’m happy. My life is good—better than I imagined. It may not make sense to most, but it doesn’t have to.”

“And what happens if he gets married?” This whole damn thing was fucking fascinating as shit to me. Weird as fuck but still fascinating. Not at all what I ever expected for Declan’s future.

“I’ll have to sit that poor fucker down and explain why he didn’t just marry Cade, but he gets my wife and me in the deal,” he replied. No guy would be on board for that shit.

“But he—”

“Cade’s not the reason Ginny’s crying tonight, is he?” he said over me, shutting me up. That accusatory look on his face fucking hurt. “I know you. I know you’ll talk about this all night to avoid talking about your own shit. What happened, Killian?”

Damn it. I’d much rather talk about his weird as fuck relationship than talking about my fucked up one.

“I… fucked up,” I mumbled.

“You think?” he cocked a brow. Clearly, he expected more out of me. “I’m not a fucking idiot, you know. Anyone with half a brain in their head can see the two of you never got over each other.”

“I have divorce papers.”

“I have an art studio. Doesn’t mean I’m an artist,” Declan shot back. “You haven’t given her the papers, have you?”

“No.”

“Have you told her about the papers?” he asked, and I frowned. When would I have done that? Somewhere between calling her mine and telling her to come all over my dick? Yeah, that would’ve gone over real fucking well. “Have you even tried talking to her, Killian? I’m not an idiot. It may have been three years, but I can still tell when you’re hurting.”

I said nothing. What the fuck was I supposed to say? I’d told him I could fucking handle this. Shit, I told everyone I could fucking handle this—that I could handle seeing her again. Being around her. Hearing her talk. Smelling that sexy as fuck lotion of hers—nope. Wasn’t going down that road again. What the fuck was wrong with me? One moment with her and all my fucking resolve flew right out the window.

“Killian, do you want to get back together with your wife?” Declan’s question mirrored my round-and-round thinking.

“It’s not possible,” I whispered. “Ship sailed, remember?”

“If you can hurt someone as bad as you hurt her tonight, it means they care,” he said. “She still cares about you, Killian, and I know you see it.”

Feelings were all well and good. Genevieve and I had always had intense feelings for each other—good and bad. I wasn’t sure that’d ever fucking change. But making it work?

That was a different story—one I didn’t think we knew how to do anymore. And I wasn’t sure we’d survive if we tried.