Chapter 86: Eighty Six

Declan met me by the front doors of the office with a set of car keys swinging casually from one finger.

“I’ll drive,” he said, nodding toward the parking lot.

I blinked.

“I was going to take my car.”

“It’s a two-hour drive to Wellingford, and your tires are bald. I saw them this morning.”

I folded my arms. “You checking my tires now?”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “Just noticed. Roads are slick after last night’s rain.”

“Oh.”

He cocked his head at me.

“Your fiance can’t even take care of your car, huh.”

I frowned, “I can take care of it myself.”

His response was an eye roll. “Just get in the car, Willow.”

There was no point arguing. He wasn’t wrong. I hated that he still knew how to read the small things - my car, my silence, my tells.“Fine,” I said, brushing past him.

“But I pick the music.”

His lips quirked. “You always did.”

_____

The drive started quiet, the air humming with tension and highway wind. I picked a playlist at random, some random indie with a few moody pop songs thrown in. The kind of music that filled silence without asking too much of it.

We passed strip malls and small towns that blurred into one another. Dry fields rolled past the window, the edges of the road dusted with windblown leaves that hadn’t waited for fall to arrive.

About an hour in, Declan pulled into a gas station. I got out, stretching my legs and heading toward the store, mostly to avoid standing near him while he filled up.

By the time I came out with a bottle of water and a pack of gum, he was already by the driver’s door, holding something out to me.

My heart skipped a beat. He looked so good right there, leaning against the door casually, his phone in one hand and a paper bag in another. He had his sunglasses perched on his nose, his hair slightly messy from the wind. I wanted to -

I shook my head, forcing the thought away. I took the bag from him, and peered inside.

A bag of cinnamon kettle corn. My favorite.

I hadn’t had it in months. I hadn’t mentioned it.

He remembered.

“Thought you might want this,” he said casually, like it meant nothing. Like he hadn’t just time traveled across our past. He remembered. “Thought you might be hungry.”

I took it from him slowly. “Thanks.”

His eyes flicked to mine. “Still your favorite?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t smile, but something in his expression shifted, an echo of the old Declan, the one who knew me better than I liked to admit.

Back in the car, the silence turned softer. Not quite friendly. But no longer jagged.

When we reached our destination, we were both already tired. I was sleepy. But there was work to be done. By the time we left the donor’s office, a sleek, overly air-conditioned coworking space full of spreadsheets and small talk, the clouds had thickened into a dark gray mass overhead.

Declan glanced at the sky as we stepped outside. “We should head back. Storm’s coming.”

I looked up, pulling my jacket tighter. “Think we’ll beat it?”

He didn’t answer. Just unlocked the car.

We didn’t beat it.

Barely twenty minutes onto the interstate, the sky cracked open. Rain came down thick and fast and slanted. It was like the sky was angry. Declan’s hands tightened on the wheel as the wipers struggled to keep up.

“Jesus,” I muttered, squinting through the windshield. “I can’t see anything.”

“Neither can I.” His voice was calm, but clipped. Focused. “There’s an exit coming up. I’m going to pull off.”

We took the ramp carefully, water already pooling near the edges. He guided the car under the awning of a closed diner off the side of the road. The neon sign buzzed weakly through the storm.We sat in silence for a moment, the rain drumming outside, loud and a little bit scary.

“God,” I said. “Feels like the world’s ending.”

“Just summer in New England.” He spoke dryly.

The windows fogged slightly. I rubbed at the glass, then gave up. The outside had disappeared. It was so dark out. All I could make out was the way the raindrops beat against the car. The inside of the car had darkened, too.

Now, it was just us. The sound of the rain, and The Wallows crooning lightly in the background.

Inside, it felt suddenly intimate. Too quiet. Too close.

“I haven’t told Jacob,” I said, the words slipping out before I could decide if they were wise. Or needed.

Declan turned to me, eyes steady. “About us working together?”

I nodded.

His jaw flexed. “Why not?”

I stared at my hands. “Because he wouldn’t like it. Because I didn’t know how to bring it up. Because…” I paused. “Because I didn’t want to explain why it mattered.”

The silence between us thickened.

“He doesn’t trust you?” Declan asked.

“No,” I said. “He just… doesn’t like history.”

His gaze didn’t move. “Does he know how much of your history I am?”

I looked away.“I’m not trying to start anything,” he said, after a beat. “But I… God, Willow.” He dragged a hand through his hair, “Do you know what this makes me feel?”

I hesitated, looking at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“He knows everything,” I told Declan. “All of it. But no one likes an ex.”

“And is that what I am?”

I didn’t answer.Outside, lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating his face in brief, harsh flashes. It hit the lines of his jaw, making him look like some kind of sculpture.

“You know,” he said softly, “I used to imagine seeing you again.”

I turned sharply.

“Not like this,” he added quickly. “Not with a ring on your finger. But… sometimes I’d wonder. Where you were. What you were doing. How you looked. I wanted to talk to you, wanted to know if you still have that necklace I gave you.”

My breath caught. I still did.

He exhaled. “I guess I never really stopped being in it.”

“In what?”

He gave me a look. “Us.”

The word lingered between us. My heart was beating a hundred times a minute.

“You have a life now,” he said finally, turning his gaze back to the windshield. “A fiancé. A future.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” His voice wasn’t cruel, just tired. Honest.

And I hated him for that. For being kind. For still seeing me

.Outside, the storm began to soften, the rain turning into a steady rhythm instead of a violent flood.“I’m going to wait it out a little longer,” he said, leaning back in his seat.

I nodded, my throat tight.

But even with the rain between us, the air was thick with all the things we hadn’t said. All the moments we hadn’t outgrown.

All the feelings we had never quite buried.