Page 12 of Downfall

But it sounded like he was underwater. Or maybe I was.

I looked up at him, his deep amber-brown eyes shining with concern, and that was it. Did I pass out after that? How did I even get into bed?

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters right now because somewhere between my heartbroken rage and alcohol-fueled stupidity, I gave the man who destroyed me the power to do it again. Even worse, I married him.

6

DECLAN

Something rattles next to me, pulling me out of the hazy in-between state of sleep I must have fallen into. Sleep doesn’t come easily to me on a good night, so it’s no surprise that I barely got a couple of hours after the chaos of last night.

The rattling turns to slamming, now accompanied by thuds and screams of frustration. I’m about to get up from my place on the couch when a fuming redhead marches into the living room.

“Where the fuck is it?” she screeches, flipping over some magazines that are on the side of the TV stand.

I rub my face, gearing up for what is likely to be a long morning. She hasn’t even noticed me yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Shit,” she roars, and I duck as a book sails across the room, nearly hitting me in the head. At first, I think it was on purpose, but I still don’t think she sees me. Her hair is messy, her eyes streaked with mascara, and she’s still in the T-shirt I found for her last night. Now she’s rifling around in a giant wicker basket with blankets in it. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her what she’s looking for, but she’s bent over, her ass in the air, covered by nothing but those damn cotton panties she still seems to love, and I can’t bring myself to ruin the moment. The moment where this could be a normal morning. I could have fallen asleep on the couch because I didn’t want to wake her up with my tossing and turning, and she could be angry because she misplaced something, not because she made the biggest drunken mistake of her life mere hours ago. We could get pancakes at the diner down the street after she finds whatever she’s looking for because we do that every Sunday and then stay in bed for the rest of the day. I could count the freckles on her cheeks while I fuck her slow and deep because that’s how you fuck sometimes when you love someone. We could just be together, like it was always supposed to be before I ruined everything.

I stay quiet. I let the alternate universe I’ve created in my mind wash over me until the rummaging noises come to a complete stop.

“You’re here?” Her words are rushed out in anger, but her tone carries a hint of sadness.

I go to stand up, but she backs away. “Don’t come near me.”

I put my hands up. “I’m not⁠—”

She throws her left arm up in the air before I can get any other words out. It’s the one with the cast, and it makes me wince, even knowing that no one hurt her on purpose. I hate seeing her hurt. The irony of that isn’t lost on me.

“What the fuck is this, Declan?” Skylar bites out.

I don’t have to look to know she’s pointing to her ring finger. When I don’t answer, she takes a step toward me, my left foot now resting on top of the coffee table. “I asked you a question,” she hisses, green fire dancing in her eyes as she kicks the table, sending it screeching along the hardwood floor and knocking my foot to the ground.

“I thought it was rhetorical.”

“Rhetorical?” Her voice is higher-pitched now.

“Yeah. Unless…” Does she not remember? We were both clearly drunk, some of us more than others, and she did pass out, but she has to remember everything before that.

Her hand comes up to cradle her forehead. “I can’t do this. Where is my phone? I need to find my phone.”

I look down to where it’s sitting on the coffee table in plain sight. She lets out a frustrated sigh, swiping it from the table. “Why do you have my phone?”

“Skykar, you passed out on me. I caught it before it smashed to pieces on the floor. I would have plugged it in, but I was a little preoccupied with wrangling you into bed.”

Her thumb freezes on the screen. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Not like that. Jesus, Sky. You could barely walk, so I carried you home from the restaurant. I found a shirt in your drawer and left you to change yourself. Then I came out here and fell asleep on the couch. That’s it.”

She suddenly seems to remember that she’s standing half-naked in front of me and pulls her shirt down to cover more of her thighs, her anger melting into self-consciousness. I hated when she would do that. Hide herself. But just as fast as it left, her rage comes barreling back.

“Don’t call me that,” she hisses, holding her phone to the side of her hip as she paces back and forth. “God, Declan. Why did you even come to the after-party? Let me guess. You fucked your way through all the girls in Connecticut, so you thought you’d start revisiting your old high school conquests? Why not go to New York if you’re bored? Or have you fucked that entire state too?”

“Nah. New York girls are too uptight.”

I smirk. I know I shouldn’t. It’s only adding fuel to the fire, but damn, Skylar Galloway is beautiful when she burns, and as much as I’ve been worried that I may have caused her light to dim, if anything, it’s brighter, fiery. Fucking magnificent.

“What is that look for?” Her right hand slides down to her hip.