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But since Bree had dropped this bomb on him just an hour ago, Declan was not giving a flying fuck about anything.
“You do that,” Declan said.
“And tell my colleagues to bring the battering ram. Or better yet, tell them that Declan Mills from Austin PD asked for the hydraulic door blaster.”
Declan wasn’t about to leave. What a fuckin’ mess.
Bree had ignored him for days, snapped at him, told him to leave her alone, and then dropped the bomb she was late. Because she’d said she didn’t need him anymore, he’d jumped to the conclusion that he wasn’t the father.
A bolt of anger had hit his chest as the vision of Bree with another man’s baby crept into his mind. He needed to be the father of Bree’s child. Not someone else.
While paralyzed by hurt, all of his words had come out wrong. If he hadn’t been so stupid last March, then they’d be welcoming this baby with open arms—as a couple. They were going to be a family now. No matter if they were in a relationship or not.
“Bree, I know you’re home. I just talked to Gwenn at Lucky.”
He had been staring at the concrete brick wall in front of him, when Gwenn barged into the back ally at Lucky’s. She’d given him an ear full, and it served him right. It had been the wake up call he needed.
He leaned with his forearm over his head against the front door. Declan sighed.
“Please, let me in.”
The locks turned, and Declan stepped back when Bree finally opened the door wide. She took a few steps back, waiting on his next move. Bree looked ghostly.
Her white T-shirt reached mid-thigh and matched her unusually pale complexion. He closed the door behind him and locked the door.
She directed her eyes to a spot above his head, not meeting his eyes. Her lips were cracked and her hair a mess.
“Love, I’m so, so sorry…”
Her shoulders slumped, and her bottom lip trembled. He rushed to pull her in for a hug. He always did that, engulfing her smaller body with his arms so he could snuggle his face into her unruly, shiny hair.
“Have you been sick before I got here?”
She nodded against his chest.
“Shall I make you some ginger tea? Brennan said it always helped my Mom when she was sick from chemo.”
Still without words, she nodded her confirmation.
“Let’s get you back to bed.”
Declan picked her up, and instant worry zinged through his chest. She weighed nothing. How long had this been going on? Why had he been such an arse to her? The poor lass had been sick, and he yelled at her because his stupid male pride got the best of him.
He sat her down on her rumpled bed. “Okay. Can you sit here for just a moment longer like this?”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
He knelt before her and enveloped her hands that rested on her lap with his hands.
“I’m going to the kitchen to grab you some stuff. Will you please wait for me here… like this?”
“Dec… you don’t need to—”
“I need to do this. I…” He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, he met her sky-blue eyes.
“I’m so sorry for being an arse to you. I want you to know that it came out all wrong. I was shocked. But I’m not using that as an excuse for saying the things I did. I hope you know that—”
Bree pulled her hand from his and placed her fingers to his lips.
