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“Not if Declan wants to move to Seattle and write a novel or live in Europe. There are so many things that Declan never got to do and now he has the money and the freedom to go anywhere and be just about anything.”
“Maybe Declan doesn’t want any of those things. Maybe he’s already found what he wants.”
“Nobody wants to teach high school in Chicago. Not for long,” Atlas amended.
“Remind me, what was it your dad did and how long did he do it?” Sage asked, rubbing his chin.
Atlas gave him a hard look because it wasn’t fair to bring up his dad. “My dad’s a superhero and he grew up a few blocks away from the school he taught at. He did it because he loves those kids and he’s too stubborn to give up on that community. But the city and those kids’ll chew Declan up and wear him down.”
“That Declan?” Sage asked, pointing his fork at the living room, then snorted. “Mickey fucking Winterstone couldn’t wear Declan down. Declan stayed pure and kind and you can’t help but smile as soon as he walks into the room. I can’t think of a lot of people who are more resilient than him and imagine how lucky those kids would be.”
“Yeah. Resilient is a really good word for Declan. He isn’t as soft as he thinks he is and he’s braver than he gives himself credit for.”
“It had to be tough, everyone knowing his father was Mickey Winterstone and being too afraid to talk about it or go near him. And he’s got to be really passionate about teaching. Imagine how much harder that is for someone with Declan’s anxiety. He’s so hungry to share what he’s learned and to be accepted.”
Atlas wondered if that might make Declan more willing to set aside his own happiness for a stable relationship. “I don’t want him to give up his dreams and rush into something with me because he thinks this is his only shot at finding love and having a real family.”
“The two of you are going to have to talk about this eventually and I have a feeling Declan’s figured out more than we give him credit for. I think he’s figured out more than he’s realized and is just waiting for a sign.”
“He’s still borrowing Reginald’s clothes and hasn’t mentioned getting a place of his own. Up until a few months ago, he thought he was supposed to be a priest,” Atlas reminded him and a giggle burst from Sage.
“God, can you imagine?” He waved a hand in front of his face as he composed himself. “Blessed are the earthworms: for they shall inherit the dirt,” Sage said, shaking his head. “He was looking for shelter and salvation from the abuse and the stigma, but he’s already freed himself from all of that by coming out here. I genuinely believe that he doesn’t give a damn about clothes or where he stays as long as he’s got a safe, warm roof over his head. Hecouldhave been happy as a priest and you shouldn’t underestimate Declan’s agency just because he hasn’t rushed out to spend all the money his brother left him.”
That caught Atlas by surprise. Maybe it wasn’t indecision keeping Declan from finding a condo in the city and buying more clothes. Atlas’s investigative mind saw that as indecision or hesitation, that Declan wasn’t invested enough yet. But Declan was so simple down to his core, so much like a monk in his proclivities, that it wasn’t fair to judge him by society’s shallow standards.
“What if he chooses Chicago because of me and it crushes him? He’s too pure for this world and he deserves to be happy.”
“I think that’s where you come in,” Sage whispered from behind his mug, then took a sip. “There aren’t a lot of people who’d understand where he came from and the things he saw. And Declan needs someone who can help him leave work behind so he can find balance and recharge his batteries as well. He’s from Hell’s Kitchen, Atlas. He’s tougher than he looks and I’m pretty sure Declan could survive anything with you by his side,” he added with a pointed look, stunning Atlas.
He hadn’t realized how much heneededto be by Declan’s side. Not just because Atlas was in love with him, but because it was his place—his duty—to protect and support Declan. It was more possessive and intense than Atlas was accustomed to feeling about his partners. And it had happened so quickly. He’d wondered if he could commit to forever with one person, but Atlas hadn’t asked himself how he could live without Declan or allow someone else to care for him.
Atlas had seen pictures of Declan in Winterstone’s and Frank Leary’s files, but they were old and grainy. He wasn’t prepared for the instant attraction and connection he felt when Declan turned up in Lake Cliff that first night.
Their eyes touched on Speed’s lawn for just a moment, but Atlas had been haunted by them as he worked the scene at the hangar and during the drive back to the city. He’d been notified that Declan Leary had arrived and Atlas had recognized him immediately. And he could tell with one look that there was so much more to Declan than the skimpy file on Atlas’s desk had led him to believe.
Declan had become an obsession after that and it was time to accept that his instincts were right, that this was where Atlas belonged. A weekend holding Declan as he tripped and dreamed on the sofa had put everything into perspective for Atlas. It all had felt so right and there was no going back. He’d find a way to gently break the news to Declan and warn Paul that he was romantically compromised. Atlas doubted that this is what his mentor had in mind, but he’d find a way to balance his relationship with Declan and keep the peace between Lake Cliff and the FBI.
He thought about what that life would look like and Atlas yearned for it in a way he wasn’t expecting. He saw a home and a family with Declan and Atlas realized those things were vital to his survival and that he’d never feel like a success without them.
“You might be onto something,” Atlas told Sage. “I want to be the one to help Declan face whatever the future throws his way, but I think I need him more.”
ChapterTen
It was supposed to be evening.
Declan frowned at the coffee table, trying to recall how he ended up in the living room and why he was dressed in the softest blue pajamas.
“You’re up!” Atlas said as he hurried into the living room with a blue beverage in a tall glass. The ice cubes tapped against the sides and Atlas smiled as he held the straw and offered it to Declan.
“What…?” Declan’s brows pinched together, but he leaned and sipped obediently. It was a sports drink of some sort.
“Paul recommended it to keep you hydrated,” Atlas murmured softly. “I’m glad you’re awake. Sage is supposed to come over and sit with you because I have to get going,” he continued in a low rumble, soothing Declan as he sipped.
“Can you take a plate with you? I made a pot roast and an apple tart,” he said, then paused as he recalled eating roast and tart with Atlas. But he also recalled standing in a hot air balloon while they were eating said meal. “That’s odd… I’m sorry you can’t stay.”
“Dec…” Atlas cleared his throat and whispered a prayer as he set down the glass and took Declan’s hands in his. “Please don’t get upset. I promise, thateverythingis fine. Dr. Hawkesworth’s been by a few times to check on you and he says you’ll make a full recovery and shouldn’t have any lasting side effects. And I totally understand. None of this is your fault.”
Declan’s lips twisted as he considered the pajamas and searched his foggy brain for some clue as to what Atlas was talking about. He wondered if Atlas had actually floated from the ceiling like an angel as his memory suggested, or if Declan had wrestled a worm king in Paul’s garden.
