Free Decline (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #1) by Michelle Irwin Page A

her hands quivered as she reached to grab her bag off me. I thought she must have been a fan or something, so I raised my eyes to offer my assistance again.
    Holy fuck !

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN: UNDISCOVERED TERRITORY
     
    I COULDN’T MOVE.
    I couldn’t think.
    All that kept running through my mind was holy fuck !
    A flight attendant tapped me on the shoulder and I felt some semblance of feeling return to me. Too bad it was a hollow feeling that churned my stomach and stopped my breath. Finishing the coffee earlier despite my roiling stomach was an infinitely stupider decision than I’d thought. My stomach coiled back on itself and the taste of stale coffee rose in my throat like bile.
    “Are you two okay here?” the attendant asked. “We need to get everyone seated for take-off.”
    I nodded vaguely as I saw the red blush run up her cheeks. Her gaze hadn’t left mine since I’d met it, and she held me captive like a proverbial deer in the headlights. I wondered if she felt as breathless and empty as I did.
    Hollow. Empty. Cold.
    Finally her honey-gold eyes turned from me to the cabin crew member, releasing the hold she had over me and leaving me free to think again. As if a levee wall burst, my mind was filled with images, memories of the last time I’d seen those eyes. That blush.
    Alyssa .
    Her name was on my lips, but I couldn’t speak it. My mouth was dry and my eyes burned. The memory of the vision I’d had while in hospital filled me and I was rendered completely mute.
    “Sorry,” she mumbled before picking up her bag.
    The flight attendant helped her stow it away securely and then tossed mine in too. Although I’d stood up, I still couldn’t move or think enough to offer any further assistance. I watched as she slid into the seat closest to the window. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be stuck next to my past for the better part of a day—or more. Not the way my heart raced and my palms sweated. Not now. Maybe not ever.
    “Excuse me,” I asked the attendant as quietly as possible. “Is there any chance of getting another seat?”
    “I’m sorry, that’s not policy.”
    “Even in economy? Or first?” I begged urgently. “ Any seat anywhere else on the plane? I’ll pay extra if I have to.”
    She frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m not able to help with that. Now, please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt.”
    Fasten my seatbelt is right .
    Hours stuck on the plane next to Alyssa fucking Dawson was not a good start to the whole getting her out of my system plan. The worst part was that the way she stared steadfastly out the window, her face a shade of red so bright she would have put a tomato to shame, made it clear she’d heard me asking for another seat.
    After I’d sat down, I threw my sunglasses and hat into the storage pocket and then pinched the bridge of my nose before realising that fucking hurt with my still-black eye so I tugged at my hair the way Danny did when he was pissed.
    I had no fucking clue how to handle the Alyssa situation. Talk? Don’t talk? Reminisce? Ignore? If someone wrote a book of helpful hints that dealt with running into your ex on an almost day-long flight to another fucking country, I wanted ten copies.
    “Alyssa,” I finally murmured in greeting, the feel of her name rough and awkward on my tongue. Even though it was tempting I couldn’t just ignore her, or the giant fucking elephant between us.
    Her head shifted almost imperceptibly in my direction and she seemed to be having a similar internal debate. Then she closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded. “Declan.”
    Why did my name have to sound so fucking good on those lips?
    At that exact moment, the safety announcements started. It provided me with a few precious moments where I could ignore Alyssa without feeling guilty. I’d never been more fucking interested in having an emergency situation before. All too quickly the video was over, and then the uncomfortable silence began as the plane started its run-up