Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

35. Penny

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

penny

Oh my god. What did I do?

When Wyatt pulled that blanket over our heads, I wanted to keel over and die.

I was already wide awake and staring at the wall, my mind unraveling with anxiety thinking about the day ahead. I almost dropped off the couch and barrel rolled behind the Christmas tree when I heard Declan’s voice.

I am not ready to see him. Not here. Not yet. Not like this.

I saw the way he looked at me, how his face hardened in resolve. Wyatt was wrapped around me like a cocoon. It meant nothing, obviously. It’s Wyatt. Last night we were drunk, I was sad, and he crawled over from his side of the couch to mine when he heard me sniffling in the middle of the night.

He barely said anything, just told me it was going to be okay and held me close. He rubbed my back until I calmed. I’m sure he was thinking it was about Gavin. It wasn’t. Not even for a moment. I was so afraid of what was coming in the morning, of how different it would feel with this new, broken thing between us.

It was all about Declan. Every tear.

But Declan wasn’t supposed to see that. I hadn’t thought that we might still be wrapped around each other when he arrived. I don’t know where our boundaries are anymore, but if I walked in and saw him snuggling up to Lauren, I’d probably feel a bit weird about it.

Hell, I don’t think I’d handle it half as calmly as he did.

I don’t know if his reaction was from seeing me and Wyatt like that or if it was just over seeing me for the first time again. Either way, the iciness in his stare was so cold that it stung my skin. I can still feel it, even as I hold my coffee in between my palms for warmth.

I know I’m all sorts of messed up right now, that my healing process has been a bit messier than it has been healthy, but none of it was worth losing him. We have become strangers, and that is proving to be more painful than the rest of it.

A damn coffee almost brought tears to my eyes. Wyatt sent that text last night without my order. When they asked for a second time if I wanted my usual, I told them that I was trying to cut out caffeine because it was amping up my stress and making my insomnia worse, which had Avery gawking at me across the room.

Nobody had the nerve to call me out on that with all the Gavin related stuff happening in my life.

I’d cut out breathing before I’d cut out coffee.

It was a lie, but I couldn’t ask him to buy me a coffee. I know how badly I screwed all of this up, the mass murder I committed in our relationship. I couldn’t accept a kind gesture from him, no matter how small.

My order still arrived, even when I hadn’t placed it. The right order. Even worse, my sad girl order: extra cinnamon on top. I only order that when things are really sucking. I didn’t even know that he knew that. That’s an Avery-only type of detail.

I am still in ‘the crew’ group chat that we use, which all of us are in. I watched everyone’s orders pop up and there was no hazelnut latte included. Lauren even chimed in with her order, but I was a ghost in that chat, hovering but never speaking.

I shouldn’t have my favourite coffee in my hands right now.

I don’t deserve it, but it’s here.

Because Declan is just a nice guy, even though he’s a pain in the ass, and that makes this harder than it should be.

Wyatt’s beside me on the couch, lounging lazily against my side, poking EJ with his feet just to tick him off.

EJ crawled his way back to life and made his way downstairs about twenty minutes ago. He’s still moaning and groaning with his gray hood pulled tightly over his eyes, but he’s awake and alive. He chugged his coffee and half of Lauren’s before she even arrived, and then whined about how his stomach hurt because of the dairy.

“Hm,” Lauren says, clicking her tongue as she takes a sip of her half-drunk caramel macchiato. She glances sideways at EJ, smacking her lips as if she’s at a luxury wine tasting. “Your backwash kind of tastes like vomit. Any reason that would be?”

My lips tug upwards despite the feeling in my chest.

EJ groans, tugging the strings of his hoodie closed. “Don’t say ‘vomit’.”

“Ah—I see it here now,” she says, examining the label on her cup. She narrows her eyes like she’s reading, her finger skimming the sticker. “It’s a caramel barf- iatto. Must be a new flavour.”

I laugh under my breath, taking a sip of my own drink. The cinnamon sprinkle that has now flooded through the coffee dances along my taste buds.

“Lau, I’m going to caramel barf-iatto if you keep talking about barf-iatto’s,” EJ grumbles, rolling onto his side. He grabs the blanket that’s on Wyatt’s lap and tugs it off him, pulling it completely on top of himself. “And I’ll aim for your lap.”

“Aw,” Lauren coos, reaching forward to boop his nose. He swats her away, wincing when he accidentally hits her engagement ring. “Ernie Junior needs to learn how to hold his alcohol.”

“God, you smell,” Wyatt groans, shoving him a bit rougher with his foot.

“Holy fuck!” EJ cries, throwing his hands up. He rolls his head back to glare at the both of us, even though I’ve been quiet as a mouse all morning. “Is it ‘pick on EJ’ day? At least wait until Lowesy and Seth get back so you can all have a go.”

I force a smile, but I don’t say anything. The truth is, I’ve been holding my breath and staring at the door all morning. I am trying my hardest to figure out the best next step. I don’t know if I should jump up when they get back, maybe ask Declan to talk. Thank him for the coffee?

I should. I really should.

I won’t.

I know that. My fear of him turning me down outweighs my discomfort.

I can’t have that conversation. It will kill me.

My therapist says that I have developed a new fear of abandonment. It’s like I live each day waiting for the world to come crashing down, waiting for people to leave. I consider people halfway out the door already.

I’m too scared of what it will feel like if he steps through that door completely. If we don’t talk about it, at least he’s still hovering inside of my life.

The front door opens and Seth and Declan’s chatter floods through the house.

Nope. Not doing it.

“EJ!” Wyatt says quietly, smacking the back of EJ’s head over and over with excitement. “The boys brought you your breakfast.”

Lauren barks out a laugh. “Vodka, clamato, tabasco, and pickle juice?”

“Exactly!”

EJ groans again, pulling the blanket over his head.

Seth saunters in first, a big brown bag in his hands. He smiles at the room, unsurprised that his fiancé is not among the crew lounging on his couch. Still too early for Ave. Especially hungover Ave. His eyes quickly flicker to Lauren, who hadn’t been here earlier, he nods in greeting.

Declan slides in behind him, baseball cap on backward, loose waves falling to the back of his neck. His hands are full, but he trudges into the room like those bags weigh nothing.

I avert my eyes.

Lauren hops off the couch with an excited squeal. She does not waste one second before rushing into Declan’s arms, babbling away.

I watch from over the rim of my cup. Lauren’s arms snake around Declan. Her hand slides around those broad shoulders. She frantically rocks him back and forth and he laughs that smooth, melodic laugh in her ear.

“It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you,” she says. I think of how I winded my fingers around that exact spot as I held his body close to mine. Of his lips on my neck. Of my fingers slipping through his hair. “You’re killing it! My brothers will not stop talking about it. They brag about you to everyone they see.”

I tear my eyes away. I don’t know why it feels invasive to look. I’ve seen him hug Lauren millions of times. She is also extremely married and has been married for three years .

“I need to pop those cinnamon buns in the oven,” Seth says, sliding past the two of them and into the kitchen.

Those are magic words if I’ve ever heard them.

I take that opportunity to pull myself from the couch. Wyatt snuggles up to EJ to poke at his face and irritate him, reclining himself completely on his back so that their heads are nearly touching.

I make my way past the huggers without looking at either of them. They’re talking about the hockey season. She’s showering him with compliments that he deserves and he’s listening with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen, but there are no dimples.

It’s true. He’s having the best season of his career. Although it’s early, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wins the cup this year. Wyatt was right. Declan is playing like a champion.

When I enter the kitchen, Seth is removing plastic wrap from a pan that contains the most delicious looking, mouth-watering cinnamon buns I have ever seen.

That means something.

I have seen and eaten a lot of cinnamon rolls in my lifetime. I’m a cinnamon roll expert, if I do say so myself.

My eyes widen as I stand on my tiptoes for a better look.

The corner of Seth’s lip twitches upward, he adjusts the angle so I can see them in all their glory. “Made them while you were working yesterday afternoon.”

Locked in the spare room. None the wiser.

My eyes flicker to his face, clutching my latte tighter to my chest. “Those look heavenly.”

“We’ll see how they taste. This was an experiment,” he says with a soft laugh.

He begins to press buttons on the stove, getting his canvas ready to start his work. I linger just behind him, keeping my back to the living room. Intentionally. The room suddenly felt very small, very quickly. I fear if I go back into it, I’ll suffocate.

“Can I help you start anything?” I ask, hope in my voice.

“God, no,” he says, waving me off. He scurries to the fridge and begins taking out ingredients. Bacon, eggs, sausage. “Go and enjoy yourself.”

He doesn’t like help in the kitchen. Never has. This is his thing. He likes listening to his friends talk and joke around while he cooks for them, lingering on the sidelines, ready for them to ooh and ahh over his delicious food when he sets it in front of them.

The thing is, I can’t enjoy myself with the elephant in the room. The six-foot-two, hazel-eyed elephant with great lips and adorable dimples that poke through his stubble.

“I can start the pancakes. Or peel potatoes.”

Seth shoots me a look, but when he sees the desperation on my face, realization dawns on him. He stands up straight, expression softening. His eyes dart past me to Declan, who is probably harassing EJ by now with a smile on his face.

I can’t look.

Seth’s dark eyes flicker back to me. He seems to be the only person in this room that knows something is going on. The others appear to have forgotten the fight at the bar.

Not Seth, though. Not the almighty, all-knowing Seth.

Even if the Pittsburgh call hadn’t happened, Seth would have figured out that something is wrong by now. It’s just who he is.

He dips his chin, pressing his lips together in a tight, apologetic smile. Reaching forward, he places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently.

The act of comfort makes my heart break a bit. I shut my eyes, leaning into his touch .

Keep it together. I have to keep it together.

“Alright, P,” he says quietly, squeezing again. I open my eyes to meet his, which are laced with a knowing sympathy. “Get the cheese grater. You’re making hashbrowns.”