Free Wholehearted by Cate Ashwood Page B

wore, so he just grabbed sweats and a couple of T-shirts a size or two down from his own and hoped for the best. Anything would be better than watching him walk around in those threadbare scrubs that made Declan want to rip them from his body. It would only be a day or two longer until Lucas’s stuff arrived anyway.
    Finally, he did a quick grocery shop, picking up food he thought Lucas would like. Of course he had no idea what Lucas would like, but they couldn’t live off pizza for the full six weeks. He would have to get some sort of nutrition into him if he was going to heal properly. He looked like he had lost some weight since being in the hospital, and Declan wanted to make sure he put every single pound back on. He needed them.
    By the time he got back to his house, he wasn’t any closer to making a decision about whether or not to tell Lucas about his past.
     
     
    W HEN HE got inside, he found Lucas lounging in a pair of his sweats, reading the book Declan had bought for him. The dark circles that had appeared the day before seemed more pronounced in the afternoon light. His skin was pale and drawn. He looked like shit.
    “How was your day?” Declan asked.
    “Fine.”
    “What’d you do?”
    “Nothing.”
    These one-word answers were getting old.
    “I got you some clothes. I hope they fit all right. I didn’t know what size you usually wear.” Declan tossed the bag on the couch next to Lucas and ducked into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. When he came back, Lucas had put on one of the shirts Declan had bought for him. Thank God for small favors. Declan didn’t know if he could sit next to a shirtless Lucas on the couch without salivating all over himself.
    “How is it?”
    “Fine. Thanks.”
    Two words this time. They were making progress.
    “Do you want to go to the diner for dinner tonight, or should I make something here?”
    “Whatever.”
    Declan walked across the room and sat down in the chair across from Lucas. Lucas watched him with measured interest. Declan leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him.
    “Look, you don’t have to have an Oprah-length conversation with me, but more than one-word answers would be nice. If we’re going to be spending the next six weeks under the same roof, can you at least pretend that you don’t hate being here?”
    “I don’t hate it,” Lucas said quietly.
    Declan could feel himself becoming irritated. He hadn’t intended to have this conversation the moment he walked through the door, but Lucas’s terse tone wore thin on Declan’s tolerance. “It doesn’t matter. I just would like to be civil to each other and I have no idea what crawled up your ass and made you fucking delightful to be around, but whatever it is, if it was something I did, tell me off and we can move on, or let it go. Either way, I don’t care.”
    “You didn’t do anything,” Lucas countered.
    “Then what the fuck is your problem?”
    Lucas’s face wore an expression of shock. Okay, perhaps that was not the most delicate way Declan could have dealt with the situation, but there was only so much a man could take before he snapped. Declan was at his snapping point. “I know you had a bad day, and more than a bad day a few days ago. You almost died. Believe me, I know.” Declan speared his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and trying to rein in the emotional outburst. “My heart almost stopped when I saw you lying there, but I’ve been trying to help you since that moment. I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to back off and leave you alone? Should I pretend I don’t notice you in the house, because if that’s what you’d honestly prefer, then I can do that.”
    “No. I don’t want that.”
    “Then what the fuck do you want, Lucas? Because I can’t read your mind, and I don’t know how to be around you. Should I be walking on eggshells, or yelling and cursing at you like I am right now?