She thought for a moment that she’d finally broken through the wall he’d rebuilt around himself, but then he shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Kendra,” he said softly. “It’s just better this way.”
She stifled a scream. Better? How could leaving her make anything better? She opened her mouth to ask him that very question, but then she remembered Ivy’s advice.
Tell him exactly how you feel and exactly what you want.
She ran her hand through her hair. “Declan, I don’t understand any of this, and if you really want to walk out on the DCO—and me—there isn’t much I can do to stop you, but I’m going to have my say before you go.”
“Kendra—”
“Dammit, Declan, I love you!” So much for taking the calm approach. “I’ve loved you since that morning I woke up on your chest in that cave. And I don’t want you to leave.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected him to say or do after a proclamation like that, but a reaction of some kind would have been nice. Instead, he just stood there, looking sad and forlorn. She steeled herself. Here it came, the part she’d feared, when he told her he didn’t feel the same.
“I’m sure you think you do, but it doesn’t matter,” he said quietly.
Kendra didn’t know which part of that sentence was more condescending—the part where he decided she only thought she loved him, or the part where he decided that laying her heart on the floor at his feet didn’t matter to him.
She moved closer until she was only inches from that big, perfect, muscular chest of his. Then she poked him with a finger.
“Don’t you dare patronize me,” she shouted. “If I say I love you, then I love you. I’ve never said those words to another man in my life, and I won’t stand here and let you throw it back in my face. And as for it not mattering, well, it sure as hell matters to me!”
His lips quirked ever so slightly, but he didn’t smile. Which was a good thing. If he started laughing at her, she’d smack him.
“I didn’t mean to sound patronizing, Kendra. I really didn’t,” he said. “I know that you feel what you feel. All I’m trying to say is that in our case, being in love isn’t enough.”
Okay, that was…confusing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer.
“Declan, please talk to me,” she begged.
He gently brushed her hair back, allowing his hand to linger there for just a moment before letting it fall to his side with a sigh. “I’m saying that you don’t have to pretend for me. I saw the expression on your face when I showed up in the hybrid camp. I saw the fear and panic plain as day. It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen that look on a woman’s face, but it sure as hell will be the last, I promise you that.”
What did he mean about her pretending? And what did her reaction to seeing him in the hybrid camp have to do with any of this? If she remembered correctly, she’d been overwhelmed by a dozen different emotions at that time. And yes, fear and panic had definitely been among them.
That’s when it hit her. This had nothing to do with her or how she’d looked at him that day. The whole drive over here she’d been trying to figure out what she’d done wrong. Trying to imagine what she could have said that was so bad it made Declan feel he had to leave the DCO to avoid being around her. But the one thing she’d never imagined was that Declan was leaving because he thought she was scared of him. He thought his worst nightmare was happening all over again, only this time it was her instead of Marissa, and this time he decided to be the one who ran. Crap, why the heck hadn’t he just told her all this?
She put her hands on her hips and tipped her head back to look at him. “Declan MacBride, if there’s one thing I thought you would have already learned about me, it’s that I’m nothing like your ex-fiancée.”
His brows furrowed. “This isn’t about her.”
“It’s not? It sure seems like it is to me.” She snorted. “You go all shifter trying to protect a woman you care for, like Marissa. Then you see something that looks like fear and panic in my eyes, and decide all on your own that I suddenly don’t want to