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Never Been Ready (Ready #2) Page 33
Author: J.L. Berg

When I was sure the house was empty and he wasn't coming back, I told Leah I had somewhere to take her, something to tell her. She looked at me nervously and nodded.

Shit, did she think I was breaking up with her? Could we technically break up? I didn't even know what to call our relationship. We'd never put a title on it. That needed to be fixed. She was mine, and that fact needed to be made public.

When we pulled up to the curb, her head snapped over to me, her eyes filled with panic. "What are we doing here?"

Placing my hand on hers, I wove our fingers together before saying, "Do you trust me?"

She silently nodded, and I brought our joined hands to my lips before kissing each of her fingers.

"Then, you have nothing to worry about. Come on."

We made our way up the driveway, hand in hand, my heart beating hard in my chest.

What if this wasn't what she wanted? What if, in some small recess of her heart, she loved this man, and I'd just sent him away?

Sweat broke out across my brow, and I suddenly began second-guessing my decision, hoping I hadn't just destroyed the one good thing that had come my way before it'd even had a chance to start. We reached the front door, and I took a step forward. I grabbed the handle and ushered us in. I'd had a cleaning crew come in a few days after he left. I didn't want her to come back to a dingy house. There were enough memories here without the stench of alcohol and stale food to add to the mix. Pine-Sol and Windex now perfumed the air instead.

"What the hell? You cleaned?"

"No...well, yes. But that's not why we're here."

We walked through the kitchen and into the living room, the spot I assumed was where Leah's father usually was when she visited. When she didn't see him, she turned and looked at the vacant dinette and bar stools.

"Where is he?" she asked cautiously.

"Gone."

"Gone? What do you mean?"

"Well, he's not dead, if that's what you're wondering. At least, I don't think he is. But he's never coming back here, Leah. I made sure of that. You are free."

Tears brimmed her eyes, and she looked around the house again before circling back to me.

"But how? I don't understand. Are you sure? Did you do something illegal?" she asked, throwing out questions left and right.

"It doesn't matter how. Yes, I'm sure. And no, you're not getting rid of me that easily. No pending arrests," I said with a smirk.

"Shit. I'm going to cry again. Why do I cry so much around you?"

"I don't know, but I'll hold you every time you do."

She came into my arms then. It felt like I was whole, like my missing half was settling into place, and I knew I'd found exactly where I was supposed to be.

"Why, Declan? Why would you do this?"

I pulled back, knowing it was now or never. My heart raced. This time, it was for another reason. I still didn't know how she felt, and putting myself out there with no guarantee was the scariest moment of my life. It was scarier than when I'd asked Heather to move to Hollywood with me, and she'd said no. It was scarier than when I'd auditioned for my first movie and thought I'd throw up from the stress, and it was scarier than walking into Leah's bedroom and seeing her face covered in bruises.

"I love you, Leah Morgan. Since the moment I got off that plane, everything I do has been for you. You are so much more than you think you are, and I see you —all of you. You can push all you want, but I'm not going anywhere. I want every piece of you. No games, no going back. I —"

"Shut the hell up," Leah said.

She pulled my head down, so our lips could meet in a frenzied, passionate kiss.

"You better not hurt me, Hotshot, because everything you just said...I feel for you plus half a million other feelings I can't put into words. I love you even though you're arrogant and cocky and —"

"Shut the hell up," I mocked.

I kissed her again, and then laughter filled the air as I lifted her and spun us in the middle of her childhood home.

"Thank you," she said as I still held her in my arms.

"For what?"

Her eyes met mine, and she paused. "For everything. But mostly, for this —for giving me one perfect, happy memory in the midst of hell."

Seeing her joyous face in the middle of what was once her prison growing up made me want to replace every terrible memory in her life with something better.

~Leah~

I wiped the fog off the bathroom mirror that had accumulated during my shower. I stared at my reflection with a towel wrapped around my hair and body. My bruises and cuts had healed, and I was back to looking like me. Thanks to the miracles of makeup, I had been able to cover up most of the evidence, so no one had noticed at work. I was opening up, but that didn't mean I wanted the entire world to know every sordid detail of my life. I didn't mind talking to Trish about my new hot man-candy and how Clare and my family were doing, but I wasn't about to open up and bleed out all my secrets.

I pulled the towel off my head, letting my long blonde hair tumble down my back. It had been years since I'd let someone cut it more than an inch or two, and now, it was halfway down my back. It was naturally wavy and on the thick side. Being this long made it hard to maintain, but I just loved it. It made me feel so feminine and girlie. After noticing Declan's heated glances while watching me as I would brush and then braid it at night, I didn't think I'd ever cut it again.

"Declan James said he loves me," I said out loud to my reflection.

Just saying it brought a smile to my lips, and butterflies took flight in my belly. I touched my lips, remembering the kiss we'd shared in my father's house. Well, his old house. I couldn't believe he was gone. I'd spent so many years taking care of him, and now, it was all behind me. Like Declan had said, I was free.

I still remembered the years in college when I would work two jobs, so I could bring my father groceries, feeling guilty that he might starve if he didn't eat. I'd live on ramen for weeks just to keep him fed. He always blamed me for him getting fired from every job he'd worked, but we'd both known the real reason he couldn't hold down a job. Being drunk all the time didn't exactly fly with the bosses.

"Did I hear you talking to yourself in here?" Declan asked, peeking his head in the bathroom door.

He looked gorgeous in pajama bottoms and nothing else. His broad chest was bare and so delectable, displaying that tattoo I'd grown to love. I licked my lips as my eyes traveled down his body, loving the way his hips dipped perfectly into a V before disappearing under his flannelled waistband.

His lips upturned into a cocky grin as he sauntered into the bathroom before coming up behind me. His hands wrapped around my hips as his body pressed against me. I could feel him, eager and ready, against my ass.

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J.L. Berg's Novels
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