His Heartbeat Belongs To My Mother

Summary

In the circles Declan Cross ran in, I was famous for one thing: being his ultimate, pathetic doormat.

Once, someone at a party asked him what he actually thought of me.

He clamped a cigarette between his teeth, exhaled a plume of smoke, and drawled, “Harper? She’s like a stray dog nobody wanted. Honestly, I bet she’d take a bullet for me.”

Later, I actually did. I stepped in front of a gun for him and nearly bled out on foreign soil.

After that, everyone whispered about my blind, desperate devotion. They said my love for Declan was a feral, solitary crusade.