Chapter One

Chapter Two

The heaviness of the night air and it’s accompanying darkness brought with it an unwelcome atmosphere of intimacy they didn’t need. As the tension rose inexorably higher between them, it seemed to suck up the little oxygen in the old car. Angela stole a sidelong glance at Declan. Again, her eyes snagged on his corded arms and the hardness of his jaw. With his dark brown hair cut close to his skull in a buzz cut, the chiseled jaw and glass cut cheekbones, Declan was still as devastatingly handsome as he’d been for the past two decades she’d known him.

She still wanted him. Badly. Declan was her first love, her hero after her brother Nedum, and the only man she completely trusted. She’d disappointed him with her downward spiral into the dark side after her parents’ murder years ago.

“Declan.”

He stiffened, tightened his hands on the wheel. A muscle visibly jumped along his jawline. Yes, safe to say she still disappointed him. Angela swallowed down the bitter taste of unrequited love and sighed. “Why did you retire?”

He cast a quick look through the windows, avoiding her gaze. “I got tired of the scene.”

Angela shifted to face him fully, eager to learn everything she could about him. “So what do you do now, do you miss it?”

Declan’s lips twisted. “No, I don’t. My life is simpler and more fulfilling this way.”

Angela shook her head. “I’m still shocked you left basketball, and civilization for …this.”

Declan’s lips thinned, and Angela realized her mistake. “I can understand how backward and poor all this must look to an heiress,” he taunted. “What are you doing here?”

She bit her lip. “I’ve been clean for three years now and decided to go on a country drive with a friend. She had a family emergency and skipped out.”

He aimed a withering glare in her direction. “And you continued on your own? Does Brody know about it?”

Pain ricocheted off her every nerve ending. "Brody's just my guardian, not my brother. Nedum is dead."

Declan closed his eyes briefly and exhaled. "I know."

Angela rolled her eyes. “I’m an adult, Declan.”

“Then behave like one,” he bit out.

She raised an eyebrow. “Why are you angry? It’s not like I forced you to take me home.”

Declan turned away, his knuckles on the wheel whitening and the muscles of his arms jumped as he gripped the wheel tighter. Why was he angry?

He pulled into the driveway of their simple, white stucco house complete with a white picket fence. Angela gaped in disbelief.

“This is your house,” she whispered in disbelief.

He got out without a word and walked around to help her.

Angela shook her head. "It's like I see another you."

The front door opened and a woman walked out. Frail, thin and blonde, she shivered slightly and drew her robe around her thin shoulders.

From the distance, Angela spied the unmistakable glint of a wedding band. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the other woman with a sinking heart. “Who’s she?”

Declan went pale. Angela fisted her hands at her sides as her heart beat faster. He exhaled a breath in a sigh. “My wife.”

Angela's heart sank to her toes. “Your wife?”

Declan’s cheeks flooded with heat. At that moment, he looked so beautiful, like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yes, and I have a daughter as well.” He cleared his throat. “She’s five, and her name is Esther.”

“Esther,” Angela repeated tonelessly.

“Yeah.”

Declan was married. “What does she look like?” she asked softly.

“Me and her Mom." He jerked his head towards his wife. "Esther has whorly hair like mine. It is difficult to comb and very…” he trailed off.

Her heart broke a little more. Angela's eyes filled with tears. "You got married and you didn’t say a word to me?” she asked.

Declan stiffened. “I saw you at a notorious bar, and took you home for your protection,” he hissed.

Angela laughed. The sound low and hard and without humor. “Are you sure you did it just for my protection?”

“Yes.”

“And you felt nothing.”

He looked away from her to his wife. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Angela’s eyes filled with tears. “Not for our tomorrow I now know is nonexistent but for what we were to each other."

He clenched his fists. "We were nothing."

She inhaled sharply. "Jeez, you even have to be a coward on top of everything.”

His eyes hardened. “I think that might be good for us both.”

“You let me believe--”

“I did nothing,” he bit out. “We met-- no, I stumbled into you and brought you here as an old friend for your own good.”

She nodded. “And you felt nothing.”

He shoved his hands through his hair and pulled the ends taut. “Come on; I don’t want Casey catching a cold.”

Angela forced her feet forward. The night chill settled like a heavy drape over her shoulders, adding to her heartache.
Declan was married. He was gone forever from her grasp.

With utmost reluctance, she moved towards his wife. Dainty, blonde and so tiny Angela feared the cool breeze would keel her over, Casey was everything she wasn't.

She barely stifled a cry of pain as Declan left her side to move to his wife. It was the final nail in the coffin, the death knell to any lingering hope she might have had.

“Is everything alright?” Casey asked in a low, soft voice.

“Yes. But you should be asleep,” Declan murmured, turning her around to lead her inside. “I don’t want you doing too much.”

“I grew worried.” Casey stopped, looked into his eyes and reached out to cup his cheek. “I know I’ve not been as supportive as I--”

Declan stiffened. “Don’t.”

Casey's eyes narrowed. She let her hand drop and turned to give Angela a big smile. “I’m Casey,” she said looking from Angela to Declan curiously, expectantly.

Declan flushed. “She’s an old friend I stumbled into at…” he trailed off awkwardly. “Angela meet Casey--"

Casey stiffened. "This is Angela?" she asked sharply.

Angela gave Declan a quick glance. What was going on?

A muscle jumped in his cheek, a sure sign of his growing irritation. "Meet my dear wife, Casey.”

Casey placed a gentle hand on her husband’s chest and gave Angela a big smile that didn't reach her eyes. “You’re welcome. Come on; I will show you around.”

“You don’t have to,” Declan began.

Casey's eyes went hard. “Don’t be silly. Come on, Angela.”

Angela glanced from husband to wife. The air weighed down with emotions that left her stomach hollow. Casey looked determinedly sweet, frail and friendly while Declan stood stiff and unyielding beside her.

What was their story? She gave her head a sharp mental shake. Did she want to know? Declan was married.
Angela tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I-- ah-- it’s alright. It’s too late anyway. I will just go straight to bed--ah if that’s alright?”

Casey nodded. “I’m exhausted too. Maybe we can get to know each other over coffee tomorrow?”

Declan's expression turned so horrified; it was comical. He shook his head sharply, his grey eyes promising retribution if Angela as much as said the wrong thing. Biting her lip at the ball of pain in her chest, Angela forced another smile. "OK."

“You go on to bed, I will show her to the guest room,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

With another warm, weak smile aimed in her direction, Casey made her way to her bedroom, leaving behind her husband and a heartbroken Angela.

Declan paced. “First thing tomorrow morning, you’re leaving. You won’t be taking that coffee.”

Angela shook her head. “What have I done that you act like I committed some crime? I never asked you to bring me here.”

He jerked his head in the direction of a hallway. "I don’t care just…come on.”

Source:

Grabbing her elbow in a hard grip, Declan led her down the hallway. They walked so fast that all Angela saw of the house was an impression of wood and comfort before he pushed her towards a locked door.

“There.”

Angela clenched her fists. “It was never like this between us.”

“I’m married,” Declan hissed.

Angela frowned. “Obviously, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “We can't be friends," he said in a grating voice. "You’re leaving first thing tomorrow.”

Angela wrapped her arms around her, leaned against the door for support and nodded. This was it. “Y-you’ve got a wonderful wife,” she whispered, chin wobbling with the effort it took to hold back her emotions.

His eyes darkened, and he growled, leaning forward to press both hands on the door on either side of her head. The smell of alcohol, musk, and man assaulted her. Her stomach roiled and an embarrassing heat flared inside her.

Oh, God. He was a 'married Declan' now.

His breath landed hot and harsh against her ear. “Don't compliment my wife.” He pressed a hand low on her stomach.

Angela stopped breathing. She waited in anticipation, savoring the soft weight of his fingers and hating herself for it.
Their loud breathing filled the space between them and Angela felt her traitorous body swamp in heat.

Declan groaned. “We are not doing this...." With another groan, he dropped his lips to her ear, biting on the lobe hard enough to wring a wince and a shiver out of her.

Angela closed her eyes, fighting off the attraction lighting a fire in the pit of her stomach. She’d loved this man for so long; she didn’t know how to feel anything else. But this was wrong.

“Declan,” she whispered.

“Christ," he said, the sound husky and grating along her aroused nerve endings. "I’ve wanted you for so long, but...”

“But what?” she asked.

“You are- you are wrong for me,” he finished lamely, an expression of heartwrenching guilt flitting across his face. “I’m sorry.”

Cold anger drenched her. “Get off me,” Angela gritted out through eyes swimming in tears. “We’ve been all over this so many times over the years. My inappropriateness a shame I’ve got to wear as a cloth for the perfect Declan.”

The hand on her stomach shifted, so hot and warm and heavy against her that Angela had to fight against canting her hips against his.

His eyelids lowered, veiling his emotions from her, shutting her out. “I can’t do anything about it.”

“No.” She licked her lips. “I understand. Go.”

With a frustrated sigh, he levered off her, staring at her heaving breast with dark almost angry eyes. “I’m sorry--”

Her breath caught, and the broken shards of her broken heart pierced her. “Stop.”

He clenched his fists. “This changes nothing, I’m married, and I love my wife too much to- to-”

“Roll in the dust with a former drug addict, stripper, and alcoholic.” Angela gave him a hard smile. “Inappropriate. I get it. I get you.”

“Declan?”

The sweet, frail voice came from somewhere down the hallway, sending shivers of guilt down Angela’s spine. Her eyes met Declan’s, she groped blindly for the doorknob behind her and pushed her way inside. Eyes closed in despair, Angela rested her back against the wall and listened to Declan explain away their moment to his wife.

Heart heavy with the pain of unrequited love, defeat and, resignation, Angela slipped into bed with her clothes and shoes on. Her mind slipped to the Declan of her childhood. He had been her protector, confidant, and disciplinarian, and being Nedum’s best friend meant she got to see him all the time.

Nedum's death changed everything.

Being the impeccable young man he was, Declan had violently rejected the idea of a relationship with a fifteen-year-old school even though he was only four years older and her friends were already flaunting their boyfriends in her face.
But her relationship with Declan had transcended a school girl’s curiosity. Her feelings for Declan had scared the living daylights out of her.

One day, with Jake Burton late for the practice sessions Nedum, Declan, and Brody organized on the Mazagli grounds, a fifteen-year-old Angela served as the referee for the day. Excited at the opportunity to see Declan’s muscles up close, Angela was in the shed when she heard the two friends arguing.

“I say we wait for Jake,” Declan had said implacably.

Nedum shrugged. “Angela will be alright bro, believe me, she’s refereed for me many times.”

Anger at Declan’s refusal coursed through her young, untouched body and Angela paused to hear his reply.

Declan had shaken his head. “Let’s wait just a little bit for Jake; I’m sure he will be here soon.” He sounded desperate.

“You’re sure of nothing of the sort,” Nedum had retorted, “he’s probably getting laid somewhere.”

“She might get hurt, I don’t want to have to move cautiously because of her,” Declan had replied.

Seriously? Angela shook her head and grabbed the whistle hung on a hook in their unused old shed. The small-sized court wasn’t so far from the shed, and the two boys were hardly whispering so she could hear them. She had been sure Declan felt something for her. Mary, her best friend, had helped her analyze it. Sometimes, his glances in her direction were overlong and his color around her unusually high.

“You’re so protective and shit of my sister. I’m almost jealous. Someone would take you for the elder brother,” Nedum said with a laugh.

Angela closed her eyes. Her feelings for Declan were so far from brotherly; if the Pastor’s sermon on Sundays were any effective, she should be roasted for the sinner she was.

“Ask Meredith,” Declan said.

Angela froze, her heart lurching almost painfully in her chest. He wanted Meredith but not her? It wasn’t that she hated Meredith. Who was nice and beautiful with the most gorgeous figure, and she'd always belonged to Brody.
And Nedum was also in love with Meredith. Angela teased him about it, but never did it cross her mind Declan would also be interested in Meredith. For the first time in her life, Angela understood why the books colored jealousy green.

“No,” Nedum returned curtly. “And don’t even suggest it again.”

Declan sounded curious when he replied, “Is there something going on between you and Meredith?”

“Is there something going on between you and my sister?” Nedum replied in a hard voice.

Angela raced out to the court, afraid of hearing Declan's reply. Afraid of another rejection. “Come on what are we waiting for?”

Nedum eyed Declan in challenge. “You heard her.”

During the game, Declan had indeed bumped into Angela, sending them both crashing to the ground and leaving Angela winded. He moved quickly and managed to slip under, so she ended up on his hard body instead. As young Angela stared into his tortured grey eyes, she became convinced the ‘righteous Declan’ as he was popularly called wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

The highlight of their budding relationship occurred just before the regional basketball championships. Declan had slept over at their place to Angela’s delight. She’d struggled to maintain her cool. With her mind scrambling around on how to get Declan alone before he slipped into Nedum’s room forever as he’d been doing lately, Angela barely ate a bite. She didn’t wait for Maria their housekeeper and maid as she quickly shot out of her chair when the meal was over and began stacking the places.

“Are you alright?” Nedum asked, eyeing her quizzically.

Angela gave him and her puzzled mother a bright smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

As she expected, Declan rose to help her with the dishes. Immediately they entered the kitchen, she hastily dropped the plates and turned to face a grim Declan.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

He raised an eyebrow, those sinfully gray eyes glittering in his tanned face. “Have I?”

He carefully dropped the plates, grabbed a napkin, took his time cleaning his hands while Angela stared at him in desperation.

“I’m listening.”

She swallowed. “You don’t talk to me anymore,” she finally answered.

He shrugged. “I am now, and in your house too.”

“Not like before!” she said.

He looked away. “I have a girlfriend.”

Her heart stuttered. “You have a girlfriend.”

“Yes. It has nothing to do with you or our friendship. We will--”

“So you feel nothing for me is that it?”

He frowned. “I already said you’re my friend.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Angela clenched her fist and fought back tears. “I was sure you really liked me.” She pressed her forehead to his chest.

His chest expanded as he inhaled. “I do. You are my--”

He was going to say 'sister.' Angela jerked her head up. “Stop. Just hold me. I will be fine in a moment.”

He carefully wrapped his arms around her, movement slow and hesitant like he was terrified of breaking something. Angela closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. She thought of another girl in Declan’s arms, and fresh waves of pain gripped her.

She tipped her head back. “You really have a girlfriend?”

He swallowed. With her hands on his chest, Angela could hear and feel it pound. Desire, hot and cloying weaved a path around their bodies and left her breathless.

“Declan?”

His hands tightened convulsively around her waist. He groaned and lowered his head, blindly seeking her mouth. Their lips had barely brushed when Mother stuck her head in.

“Are you alright?”

Declan jumped a foot away from, nearly clipping her elbow in his haste. Angela glared at him and rubbed the pain away.

“Yes, Mom.”

Soon after that near kiss rolled in the murders that defined their life. If his conscience about her age and Nedum had kept them apart these years, her downward spiral following parents' murders and Nedum's accident crushed any chance of a reconciliation.

Seventeen years after their near kiss, Declan was married with a lovely wife and daughter.

And she had nothing.

At thirty-three, she was still rebuilding the shambles of her life. How disappointed Mother would be to see her now. She’d lost Declan and his respect. She had nothing.

It hurt.