He seems more composed now. I know when he looks at me. He’s very still for that one moment, making it feel like a greeting despite the lack of smile or wave. After that, he bends down for the hammer, his big body flickering in lantern light as he resumes his work.
When he seems lost in his own rhythm, I slide in behind him with my chipping stone. I can feel the heat of him, smell the musk of male sweat as his powerful movements bend the air around us.
“Not much done while you were dozing,” I say as I swing the stone. “But a small bit.”
“Good.”
His voice is strange, and when our gazes tangle a bit later, I realize his eyes are strange as well. His are like no male’s I’ve ever seen—fierce and expressive—but when they touch mine this time, they seem different. Troubled, I think.
“Declan?”
He pauses at his name, and when he turns to me, I see his silly, faux-stunned face. I can’t help laughing. “Don’t get too excited. I
was bound to slip up sometime.”
He smiles, though—a brilliant smile that makes me feel like I just swallowed sunlight.
I twist my face up and beckon him with my hand. “Come here. Closer.”
He gives me a curious frown, but he moves nearer—near enough so I can smell his minty breath. I pull my flashlight from my pocket. When I shine it in his face, he flinches. I wait for his pupils to shrink, and when they don’t, I zero in on one. He mutters something.
“Hush that foul mouth.”
He chuckles softly as I watch his pupil shrink under the light—but just a wee bit. The other one behaves the same, shrinking only a smidgen in the light, as if something has happened to cause it to be dilated. I shut my own eyes for a moment, and he makes a soft sound.
“That bad, huh?”
I shake my head. “I feel badly that I let you sleep. I should have realized, with your head…” I gesture to my own forehead. “I think you’ve got a bit of a concussion.”
His fingers play over the bandage. “Nah.”
“I think so. I—”
“Listen, Siren, I’ve had a concussion. This is too much whiskey, no shut-eye, and being stuck inside a hole in the ground.”
I chew my lip. “But your pupils—”
“Here.” He holds his hand out, and I set the flashlight in his hand. He leans in so near that I hold my breath, and he shines light in both my eyes, making a low sound in his throat as he does.
“How small would you say they should get?” he asks.
“Very, if there’s bright light. Near to pinprick.”
“Well here we go. We’re both concussed.” He moves the light, and I shut my eyes to regain my equilibrium. “Yours didn’t do that either. Probably because we’re in a place with no natural light.”
He steps slightly back, and I put my hands on my hips. “Can I trust your word, Carnegie?”
He lifts one of his brows. “Calling me a liar, Siren?”
I laugh. It slips out, and then, in my exhaustion, I forget what he asked, so there’s this moment where I just stand there before I remember and shake my head. “Well, no. I’m just trying to do my due diligence.”
I lift my brows at him, giving him the scolding look that’s usually reserved for Mr. Braun, who likes to skip his diabetes medication.
Declan smiles like the Cheshire Cat.
“Your hair is all…” I wave my hand about my head.
He runs a palm back over his dark locks, and as he does, he makes another brows-scrunched face at me. “Question for you, Siren.”