Revel (Second Chance Romance #1) (13 page)

Declan had told his father’s nurse that he’d be coming by in the morning to check on him.

“He isn’t doing well,” the woman warned him over the phone. “He’s in a great deal of pain. It’s important you spend as much time with him as you can.”

“Does he ask for me?” Declan said, running his hands through his hair.

“He doesn’t need to,” the nurse said flatly. “You’re all he has.”

Declan sighed. She was right.

“I’m on my way,” Declan said. “Just make him as comfortable as you can.”

As Declan walked outside into a perfect Charleston day, he glanced over at Charlotte’s house. Her car was still in the driveway.

She hasn’t left yet
, he thought.
Is it ridiculous to hope she’ll stay?

He shook away the thought. There was probably no way in hell he’d ever see or speak to her again. Not after what she knew. Before she’d run away, he’d wanted to tell her he knew he’d made the wrong decision. That it had eaten him alive ever since, that he’d never been able to find any sort of contentment with the secrets he held. If he could go back in time, he’d do it all different. Especially, since despite keeping his mother’s secrets, she’d still taken her own life anyway.

He couldn’t think about that right now. It was time to focus on what was at hand. His father.

It was the one relationship he had left. He couldn’t let that one fall apart, too. Not when there was so much still yet to be said.

********

“Where the hell have you been?”

Henry DeGraff sat propped up in a hospital bed that had been set up in the DeGraff living room. Henry couldn’t climb stairs anymore, so it made it easier for him to be on the first floor, where everything was more easily accessible.

“Well, good morning to you too, Dad,” Declan said as he sat down in the silk upholstered chair next to his father.

Henry DeGraff’s appearance was alarming. He’d once been a man with a large presence. He was well over six feet tall with a broad chest and shoulders. He’d been incredibly handsome his entire life, a man who could charm women and intimidate men. But now he was a mere shell of his former, robust self. Henry was shriveled up and pruned. His legs were thin, his shoulders bony. His skin was papery thin and pale. He’d lost 50 pounds in the past 4 months.

Declan found it hard to look at him. It broke his heart.

“I thought you’d be around more,” Henry sniffed. “I’m dying here and you’re still partying away. Probably drinking and fucking and- “

“Jesus,” Declan interrupted. “Can you stop? I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. Just… Don’t.”

Henry shook his head, “I don’t mean it in a bad way. You should be doing those things, you’re young and healthy, with all your life ahead of you. And more money than sense. You’re living the dream. And I’ll be dead soon, so you won’t have to feel bad about doing any of it.”

“Stop it with that bullshit,” Declan said. “What, you think you’re going to die and I’m going to suddenly have this need to go on a debauched rampage?”

“I would hope so,” Henry grinned. “It would make me proud.”

Declan laughed, “Well, in that case…”

They had a rare moment of peace between them.

“I just,” Henry continued. “I want you to be happy. Do the things you want to do, not the things you have to.”

Declan looked at his father, “Since when the hell do you care about anyone being happy? They must have really hit you up with the morphine today.”

Henry laughed, and to Declan it sounded a little like the past. It was a deep, guttural chuckle from the well of what was left of his father. Declan had forgotten that, despite his misgivings toward Henry, he really loved the sound of his laugh. It had a low and hearty timbre to it. It was one of the world’s most pleasant sounds.

“Maybe so, son,” Henry said. “But I always cared. I just thought I knew what was best for you to get there. Apparently I was wrong. You’re richer than any DeGraff has ever been in the history of our family.”

Declan rolled his eyes, “Fuck money. It doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never been poor,” Henry replied.

“Ha!” Declan laughed. “And like you would know what that was like? You were born with a silver spoon up your ass. And so was Granddaddy.”

“I don’t have to experience poverty to understand how shitty it is,” Henry said. “Just like you don’t need to have cancer to know how insidious it is. You can see me with your own two eyes, can’t you?”

Declan looked away for a moment, unable to say anything.

“It’s fine, son,” Henry said. “And I know you’re right. Money doesn’t always mean you’ll be happy. But it’s not even just about that. You built something, on your own. You saved our asses in the process. We were about as close as it gets to going bankrupt and losing this house and our reputation in this town.”

Declan looked at his father again, “What would that have mattered anyway? What is the deal with ‘reputation’? It’s just another word for ‘I care way too much about what other people think.’ I didn’t bail us out financially for that bullshit. I did it because I love my family.”

They sat quietly for a moment, neither of them saying a word.

“I know,” Henry finally spoke. “You did it for your mother.”

“No, Dad,” Declan said. “Mom is dead. I did it for you.”

They’d never had a conversation like this before. Declan’s conversations with his father tended to be short and were always punctuated with a slamming door or angry last word. But both men were realizing there wasn’t time for that anymore.

It weighed heavy on them both.

“Thank you, son,” Henry almost whispered. “I don’t know if I ever said it.”

“You didn’t have to,” Declan replied. “You never will.”

********

They spent the rest of the morning watching Sports Center and The Price is Right while Henry’s nurse administered his pain medication and tried to get him to eat something.

“I’m not eating a damn thing,” he scoffed. “I’ll just throw it up anyway. The thought of it alone makes me nauseated. Give me some alone time with my son.”

The nurse sighed, “I can make you a smoothie if it would be easier. But you need some calories, Mr. DeGraff.”

“I said no!” Henry yelled, throwing the remote control across the room.

The nurse didn’t even blink, “Fine. We’ll try later.”

“The fuck we will,” Henry muttered as she swiftly walked away, tray of lunch in hand.

“Dad,” Declan said. “Was that necessary?”

“She’s always pressuring me,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “I don’t like it. I told you to let me fire her.”

“She’s doing her job,” Declan pointed out. “Despite you treating her like shit. You’re lucky she doesn’t quit. I would.”

“Yeah, well,” Henry said. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I know,” Declan said, leaning forward. “I don’t. I’m sorry to give you a hard time. Just let her take care of you. That’s all she wants to do. Don’t take your anger out on her. Hell, take it out on me if you want. I deserve it.”

“No,” Henry shook his head. “You’re a good son.”

“I’m not a good person though,” Declan sighed, sitting back against the chair again. “You know; I saw Charlotte yesterday. She’s in town.”

“Charlotte?” Henry asked. “Sanders? From college?”

“Yep,” Declan said. “Our paths have crossed yet again.”

“You know,” Henry sat up a little bit. “You never really told us why you ended it with her. You really loved that girl, didn’t you?”

Declan nodded, “Yeah. I did.”

“So, why?” Henry asked. “Too young?”

Declan shook his head, “No. It wasn’t that. It just wouldn’t have worked out.”

“Why, because she’s not from here?” Henry asked. “You never cared about that shit. Much to my chagrin.”

Declan laughed, “Yeah. That’s true.”

“You know,” Henry said. “I almost broke up with your momma when we were engaged. Did you know that?”

Declan shook his head, “No. I never knew that. Why?”

“Well, your grandma wasn’t a big fan of her. Said she was too… What was the word she used? Whimsical. That and she said your momma was too quirky. That she thought too deep.” Henry laughed at the memory. “As if that’s a bad thing, to have depth. Said I should pick someone simpler. But no. The thing she didn’t like about your momma was the thing I loved the most. Anna was complex. Beautiful. She took things to heart. Too much to heart.”

Declan had never in his life seen his father cry, but Henry DeGraff had tears in his eyes, “I let her down in the end. Really, it was me who she shouldn’t have picked. I was too hard on her. Tried to mold her into what I wanted. Who could take that?”

Henry’s lip quivered and Declan did the closest thing to hugging his father that he’d ever done - he placed a hand on his gaunt shoulder.

“Dad,” Declan said. “It’s not your fault. Momma was sick… She wasn’t well. People don’t do what she did because of just one thing or one person. You can’t blame yourself.  I’ve spent plenty of time thinking of what I could have done differently, or what warning signs I missed, but it’s all a waste of time. In the end, I don’t think there’s anything we could have done to keep her from making the decision she made. Sometimes the world is just too much for a person to handle.” Declan was trying his best not to cry. Not now. “But I know she’s okay, Dad. Wherever we go after this, whatever happens, it’s a place where she can be okay again. The pain of living inside her head is gone. She’s free. And she’s waiting for us. You know that?”

Henry nodded, “It’s the only thing that gets me through this cancer shit. That and the narcotics.”

********

Henry drifted off after that. After watching his father sleep for a while, Declan walked out to the carriage house to have a moment alone and drown himself in nostalgia.

Once Charlotte left Charleston years ago, Declan could never bring himself to go back into the carriage house. Even now, as he entered it 10 years later, he swore he could still smell her in the curtains, in the sheets. He walked into the room and he could see the apparition of her leaning over the vanity in her underwear, putting on lipstick, yelling at him to stop ogling her ass.

But you’re so beautiful
, he would have said.

God, he still loved her. His muscles hurt from the pain of missing her. The previous night was both a dream and a nightmare. Running his hands up and down her body had been a piece of heaven returned to him.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the same bed on which he’d first made love to her so long ago. There had to be a way to fix all the wrongs.

Fate had conspired to have them physically collide with each other. Twice. One collision could be dismissed as something random. A second felt more like grand design.

Declan had tried to forget about her through booze and a buffet of other women, women who couldn’t come close to equaling the intensity of his passion for her. None of it worked.

He couldn’t let her leave this city without one more chance.

Nothing could quite equal their night on Capers Island. But they’d tried many times to replicate it.

The best nights were the ones in the carriage house. Charlotte loved being romanced and surprised, but if she was honest she preferred the comfort of the little home they’d made that summer and her most treasured memories lived there.

She’d come home from work and Declan would already be in bed. Usually in just a pair of boxers with a takeout order of Thai food on the nightstand.

“Is it terrible that I never get sick of Thai?” she’d ask as she’d leap on top of him. His hands would wander down the curve of her back to her ass.

“Is it terrible that I never get sick of your body?” he’d say as he kissed down her neck. “Let’s get you out of these clothes. I’m hungry.”

Charlotte would laugh. “My clothes aren’t stopping you from eating, Mr. Hungry.”

“Oh yes they are,” he’d say. “I prefer my dessert first.”

Their routine was heaven. She’d let him slide off her jeans while she pulled off her shirt and bra, leaving her naked except for a very tiny pair of panties.

“Ah, pink,” he’d say. “I like pink days.”

She’d squirm, “Please. Take them off.”

He’d slide them off slowly and then place his face inches from her sex, reverently inhaling her scent, the feel of his breath on her clit being absolute torture.

“What do you want?” he’d ask. His voice lowered a couple of octaves when he was aroused. She loved that about him. He was all man.

“You,” she’d plead. “Your mouth on me. Make me come.”

Before she’d have to ask again, he was devouring her, coaxing an orgasm out of her with his tongue. She felt like she was being opened up by him, slowly, and with such intensity that her heart would race. Before she knew it, she was screaming out his name, letting him know he was giving her exactly what her body so desperately needed.

She’d ache to have him inside her by then, and beg him for it, but his unquenchable thirst for her demanded a series of her climaxes on his face before he’d seek his own pleasure.

Eventually, he’d
have
to fuck her. His cock would become so hard that it was painful. Her luscious curves drove him insane and he’d enter her with such force that she would cry out from his girth. But her wetness welcomed him, enveloped him, and he would fuck her hard at first, needing to pound her so she could feel his desire for her.

“Fuck,” she’d cry. “You’re so hard, baby. My pussy can barely take it.”

“Good,” he’d growl. “I want you to feel it tomorrow. So you’ll remember.”

She came so easily for him, so eagerly, and he got so much pleasure out of knowing that he was the man making her come. He’d throw her legs over his shoulders to penetrate her more deeply, watching her eyes roll back in her head from the ecstasy, making it so hard for him not to release into her right then.

“I love you,” she’d whisper, running her hand up his muscled abs. “Baby, I love you so much.”

It was his cue to take it slower. He’d put her legs down and lay over her, thrusting slowly in and out of her as she sighed, her hips raising to meet his rhythm.

“I love you too,” he’d say. “I always will.”

It was what she needed to hear to come again, and it was what he loved to say to her. He’d never meant something so much in his entire life.

“Please come inside me,” she’d say, her eyes sleepy and content. “It makes me feel like I belong to you.”

“You do, Charlotte,” he’d say, quickening his pace. “Completely.”

“I love you, Declan. God! I’m coming again!”

Her cry echoed throughout the house and it was met by his roar, the orgasm flooding from his shaft, his seed spilling into her wet and eager body, a pleasure like nothing he’d ever felt before. It felt like she was pulling his very soul out of him.

And it was like that every time.

Afterwards they’d lay together, tangled up in sheets and sweat. Neither could believe how happy they were; the post-love bliss was like being drunk or high off something cosmically good, a drug no company could ever invent.

“I never want this to end,” Charlotte would say.

“It never has to,” Declan would reply, kissing her head.

If he’d been told any different, he would never have believed it.