Just Friends(66)

His mouth quirks to the side. “I’m shocked you noticed that. They’re pieces of a disassembled clock.”

I shake my head in reverent disbelief. “You are the world’s most unassuming nerd, Declan. And you’re just hiding in plain sight.”

He morphs into a look of fake outrage, dropping his mouth. “Oh please. Sounds like a classic case of the kettle calling the pot black here.”

“It’s the pot calling the kettle black,” I correct.

“My point exactly. You’re a little nerd too. I’ve never seen a person more enthused by a dictionary before.” His elbows already on the table, he leans in closer to me. I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it.

“Okay? Says the guy who just used the word ‘enthused’ to insult a girl who likes looking up synonyms,” I counter in a dry tone. “It’s a writer thing.”

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows. “Look who’s admitting she wants to be a writer now.”

I roll my eyes and look away.

“Okay, well, that leads to my next question,” I deflect.

“Shoot.”

“Does that mean you were the one to hire me after my awful interview?”

He looks thoughtful while he rubs the back of his neck. “Yes. That is correct. Which, by the way, wasn’t the worst interview I’ve ever done.”

“Really? I fudged every question on purpose, and you knew that.”

“Well, yeah. But I thought it was because you hated my guts.”

“Then why would you hire me?”

Declan’s expression turns solemn.

“If I’m honest, I thought it would be a good way to earn your forgiveness.”

“You always had my forgiveness,” I insist.

“But did I?”

“Yes!” I explode, and his eyes burn into mine, begging for more of an explanation. “The only thing I hadn’t forgiven you for was not saying goodbye to me. For dropping me with no explanation. Sitting around waiting for you to show up made me feel five years old again.”

He flinches.

“But now that I know that wasn’t true, of course I forgive you, Declan. And I never hated you. Ever.”

He takes a moment to process my words, and then his shoulders soften, and he looks relieved. “I’m glad.” His voice is too soft, and I feel warmth spread through my cheeks. “I guess I can admit I’m pretty stoked to find out you weren’t trying to live the rest of your life without ever seeing me again too.” Declan smiles, but there’s a tinge of sadness behind it.

“Did you really believe that? That I was fine without ever seeing you again?”

“Oh, of course,” he says quickly.

I wince.

“You were so eager to pursue your dreams, I thought you were excited to not have me holding you back anymore.”

“You never held me back,” I say, shaking my head. “You and I both wanted to pursue our dreams. That’s one of the things that bonded us, but your dreams seemed so much bigger, and I was scared of relying on you,” I confess. “But that was dumb. Considering I spent the next four years just wishing I could rely on you anyway.”

He nods, but his eyes are narrowed like he’s unconvinced.

“It’s not dumb. I wasn’t someone you could’ve relied on anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” I protest, but my voice comes out small.

His eyes flit to the door behind me like he’s ready to leave. “I was—” He shakes his head instead of finishing the sentence. “Down and out, let’s just say.”

I nod slowly. I think I’m gathering his meaning. “But you’re not anymore?”

“No,” he says without missing a beat. “No, thank God. The way I felt after the accident feels a million miles away now. I was absent in my own body, it felt like. And I shut everyone out because of it. But not anymore, obviously.” He looks at me.

How much longing must be written across my face right now?

“I understand that. Not in the exact way, but, you know.”

“No, you do,” he reassures me. “Grief is very similar in my opinion. The world keeps hurtling on, but you feel stuck in the moment where everything changed.”

“Yes. And things that felt easy to you before feel impossible to accomplish now. Like texting my friends back. They’re not doing anything wrong, but I feel this endless well of resentment toward them. I just don’t have it in me to joke around and—” I shake my head.

Declan’s eyes go sad, and it takes me a second to realize why. The place I’m in now is a glimpse into why I couldn’t get a hold of him after the accident. Except, my external world is different now, yes. But for him, his internal world was too. His own body was broken and with it his life. How much must he have been trying to process as a seventeen-year-old boy, laying in his childhood bed?

He looks at the exit again and I know he doesn’t want to rehash the past right now.

“So, the cottage,” I blurt. “You think the renovations would be easy?”

Declan nods. “I think so.”

“And you could, possibly, maybe help with some of them?”

His face hardens. My stomach free falls.

“Aren’t you moving soon?” For the first time during this conversation, he removes his elbows from the table and leans back in the booth, arms crossed.