Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  “Yes.”

  “Can you see where I might be a little confused?”

  “Confused?” I parroted the word, feeling the epitome of it myself.

  “Yes, confused. If you were supposed to stay in London until you got yourself sorted, and you are now back home, it would be logical to assume that you have sorted yourself out, would it not?”

  “Umm—” I didn’t get anything more out before he cut me off.

  “But if you had sorted yourself out, I would have expected you to come back into the office to talk to me about returning.”

  “Well. See. The thing is . . .” I swallowed down the nerves, wincing as it sent a fresh shooting agony through my ribs. “Something came up.”

  “Like?”

  “I bumped into an old girlfriend on the plane. She wasn’t able to stay for an extended visit in London and I wanted to spend some more time with her.” Why did I feel like a schoolboy explaining something to his father?

  “And this girl. Is she helping or hurting your goal this silly season?”

  “Helping.” I couldn’t tell him it was a bit of both. Frankly, I was a little terrified of climbing into the new car next year because I didn’t know whether my visions of Alyssa would be gone, or if they would be replaced by visions of Phoebe instead. Maybe both turquoise and brown eyes would haunt me in unison. “At least I think so.”

  “And you’re not thinking about jumping ship on me are you, Declan?”

  “What? No fucking way. Sinclair is my home.”

  He hummed again before issuing a half-hearted, “Okay.”

  I felt like that was the crux of his call and the rest was preamble. My heart was in my throat as I asked a question that burned through me in response to his interrogation. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I keep my ear to the ground. Sometimes I hear interesting things.”

  “Like?” My heart raced as I remembered Danny’s wife, Hazel, watching my conversation with Paige Wood—the owner of Wood Racing, Sinclair’s closest rival. I hoped like hell she hadn’t told Danny, but I knew the chances of that were slim. She had no reason to hide it, even if it wasn’t something I wanted discussed.

  “Like the rumours that Paige Wood has been courting one of my drivers.”

  “Well, it ain’t fucking me. And if she did, I’d tell her where to stick it.” It may not have been the full truth, but I didn’t need to stir things up more than they already were. The fact was that even though Paige had made it clear she had her eyes on me, I hadn’t considered her offer seriously. The only reason I’d even stopped to talk to her was because I’d wanted some positive attention after the crash, and for an older woman she wasn’t too hard on the eyes. Considering driving with Wood meant driving with the psycho motherfucker Hunter Blake, nothing she could have offered would have been worth the hassle. It would have also meant moving back to Brisbane, and at the time that hadn’t been appealing.

  Danny was quiet for a second. “That’s reassuring to hear. Remember you still have a year left on your contract.”

  Wondering why he’d bring that up, why then, I swallowed down the lump in my throat and asked, “And then?”

  “Well, that’s up to you. Isn’t it?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning if you stop costing me so damn much money on the track, I’ll consider renewing your contract.”

  “Thanks, that’s very gracious of you.” The sarcasm dripped off every word.

  He chuckled, no doubt more satisfied by my returned snark than he ever would have been by words of reassurance. “Actually, I think that it is. You do know how much you cost me last year, don’t you?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, “but I have a rough idea.”

  “Bear that in mind when you hit the tracks next year then, and we’ll be fine. I do still believe in you, Declan.”

  His words were yet another reason why the offer from Wood Racing would never have been interesting to me. As much of a monster as Danny could be when it was needed, he also made his team a family. He made you feel like he cared and did whatever he had to do to keep everything working. “Thanks, Danny. And . . . thank you, for giving me some time to sort this stuff out.”

  “Where would I be if I strung out my best drivers every time they hit a rough patch?”

  “Between Morgan and me? Without any drivers.” I was being a smart-arse but Danny knew that side of me. It was who I’d been before Queensland Raceway. Before I thought Alyssa had moved on with someone else and the memory of her haunted me around the track. Before I knew that it was actually me, and a genuine growing love for the sport that held my passion, that had led her trackside.

  He laughed heartily. “Exactly. Well, if there’s nothing else?”

  “Actually, there is one thing.” An idea for a date with Alyssa had struck me and I knew Danny would be well placed to pull some favours and arrange it for me. I explained what I wanted to do, and he actually sounded excited as he agreed to help me with my request. All I had to do was organise my part and wait until Saturday.

  And get my car fixed.

  After I’d hung up, I dressed and then went looking for Mum again. I needed her help to pull off my plan. When I found her, she was in the kitchen rearranging the cupboards.

  I frowned as I watched her work. Does she ever just stop and have a break?

  And I was going to add to her load.

  “Hey, Mum?” I gave her my best puppy-dog look.

  She didn’t stop her incessant cleaning, but took a moment to glance up at me. “What is it?”

  “What are you doing on Saturday?”

  “Nothing I can think of. Why?” Her voice held just a hint of concern.

  “I was wondering if you were available to watch Phoebe if Alyssa can’t get anyone else.”

  She stopped and stood up properly, leaving her rag on the bench. “What are you planning?”

  I winked at her. “Nothing . . . much. At least, nothing until I know for certain that Alyssa is willing to go out with me on Saturday.” Or at all. “I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t have an easy reason for saying no.”

  “I take it you haven’t rung her yet then?”

  “No, I was going to call her after my shower but Danny rang instead.”

  “I hope it was nothing serious?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll tell you all my secrets when you tell me yours.” I paused. “Actually scratch that, I don’t want to know your secrets and you sure as shit don’t want to know all of mine.”

  “Declan—”

  I cut her off with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Watch the language.”

  “Exactly. And ring Alyssa.”

  “Have you got her mobile number? I don’t want to call Josh’s house.”

  She sighed. “Will I regret giving it to you?”

  “I’m not going to stalk her, if that’s what you mean.”

  “And if she tells you that she’s had enough and wants you to go?”

  Fuck. I wondered whether Alyssa had said something along those lines to Mum during the phone call that morning. The question was on my lips, but I couldn’t ask it in case the answer was yes.

  Fuck me. I’d called in a favour from Danny that I hadn’t really earned or deserved—one that would no doubt cost me in the long run—to organise my planned date with Alyssa. The entire fucking experience I was trying to put together for Saturday would be for nothing if she didn’t want to see me again. My hand gripped at my hair, tugging the auburn locks with concern.

  Mum shook her head lightly and chuckled. “Don’t stress so easily. She didn’t say anything in particular.” There were times I thought Mum could fucking read minds or something—it was scary how intuitive she could be. “Between your behaviour last night, Flynn bringing you home, and Alyssa’s phone call this morning, I guessed something must have happened between you two. I just want to know that if she honestly wants you to leave her alone, you will.”

  I nodded. “If she said that, and really
meant it, I guess I’d have no choice, would I?”

  She mulled it over for almost a minute before scribbling a number down on a piece of paper. Grabbing it off her with a grin, I headed to my bedroom, programming the number into my phone as I went to make sure I didn’t lose it.

  Just as I was about to dial Alyssa’s number, my phone rang again.

  Fucking popular today, aren’t I? I sighed but then looked at the name displayed and was smiling by the time I pressed Answer. “Hello, Doc.”

  “Good morning, Declan. Are you ready for your first session?”

  “Sure thing, Doc. Shall I call you back, ’cause I know you’ll add a surcharge to my arse if you pay for an interstate mobile call.”

  He chuckled. “Are you implying I’m opportunistic?”

  “I ain’t implying anything, Doc,” I said with a laugh. “I’m saying it straight out.”

  “Shooting straight from the hip, like always. Do you ever think that maybe that’s what gets you into trouble?”

  “Always.” Despite the pain I was in, talking to Dr Henrikson made me almost buoyant. So long as I could convince Alyssa that my fuck-up with the alcohol was a one-off that would never happen again, I might be able to look forward to a date with her. After all, she’d agreed to a date for every session, and I was ready to have my first.

  With those thoughts bouncing around within me, it was easy to ignore everything else. Okay, there was still a lot I had to arrange with Alyssa, but overall I was feeling pretty fucking elated. “I thought you were going to have Lucy call and schedule though?”

  “I had a cancellation,” the doc said. “I figured you were desperate to talk to me and wouldn’t complain if I was the one to call in this instance.”

  “’Course not.”

  “So, tell me: where would you like to start?”

  Fuck. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Alyssa had specified I try to sort myself out, but there was so much to sort. I didn’t know where to start or how much to tell him. Especially not after what had happened in our last meeting—where I’d threatened him for trying to force me to talk about Alyssa. The truth was I hadn’t really thought the whole therapy thing through. Sucking down a painful breath, I just let the first thing I could think of free. “I think I know why I was crashing?”

  “Is that a question or a statement?”

  “Um, I’m not really sure, I guess.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me what you think is causing it?”

  “Alyssa.”

  I don’t know what the sound that I heard down the phone line was. It might have been the sound of him choking on a drink, a cough, or possibly even him stifling a laugh. “I thought Alyssa was off limits?”

  I really hadn’t thought the whole therapy shit through. “She’s, uh, she’s not anymore.”

  “And why is that?”

  I took a deep breath. “Because almost everything I need to talk to you about from here on in centres around her in one way or another.”

  “And why is that?” His voice definitely had a hint of amusement to it. He was probably just itching to mutter those four fucking words.

  “Because I fucking love her. I always have, and I—I was running scared of that.” Once I’d opened my mouth to start, the words escaped me in a rush.

  There was a beat of silence on the other end.

  “Just say it already,” I said, to break the silence. Even though phone sessions weren’t ideal, I was actually a little relieved not to have to see his expression. Although if I closed my eyes, I could easily imagine the smug smile that had to be lifting the ends of his moustache.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “Yeah, right. You know you’re itching to say it.”

  “It would be highly unprofessional.”

  “Fuck professional. Say the words. I dare you.”

  A chuckle echoed down the line. “I told you so.”

  I laughed. “See, doesn’t that make you feel better?”

  His laughter grew in response. “You really are in a good mood today aren’t you?”

  “I guess.” I started randomly cleaning shit up in my room, pinning the phone between my shoulder and my cheek. Each time I bent over, a new pain shot across my chest. It was starting to become clear that Mum was definitely right—I needed to see an actual doctor before long.

  “Why do you think that is?” Dr. Henrikson pressed. “What’s so special about today?”

  “Today is the first day of the rest of my life?” I couldn’t even say the words with a straight face. “Isn’t that the sort of shit I’m supposed to spout in these sessions?”

  “You know you can say anything you want with me, it’s just between us.”

  “I just . . . I don’t know. I feel like something’s shifted in the universe, know what I mean?”

  “Go on.”

  “I’ve had the week from hell and yet I’ve survived. More than that, I know what I want now, and I’m ready to claim it.”

  “Do you think you deserve it?”

  “Fuck no. No one deserves Alyssa, especially not me, especially not after what I’ve put her through. She’s too good for every fucking person on this planet. But I want to work toward the possibility of maybe deserving her one day.”

  “It’s not good to hold people up on pedestals, Declan. The higher you hold them in your regard, the further they have to fall when something goes awry.”

  “Yeah, but you haven’t met Alyssa.”

  “No. But I’d like to if this is the influence she has on you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, first there is the mood. You sound happier than I’ve heard you. Ever. And second, you’ve said a total of six cuss words the entire conversation. I used to be able to count that many per sentence.”

  Well, fuck me. Am I that obvious? “I guess she’s calming me a bit. Although I think I may have screwed up last night. I don’t really remember.”

  He sighed. “Tell me all about it.”

  So I did.

  CHAPTER THREE: WALK AWAY

  I HUNG UP the phone and took a minute to recap in my mind the conversation I’d just had with Dr. Henrikson. I’d expected him to ask me probing questions about why I was in Brisbane, why I wanted to talk to him daily, and mostly why I was drinking to excess again.

  Instead, he simply listened as I told him the little I could remember about the previous night, then he questioned me about random stuff. What the weather was like, how long I was planning on staying in Brisbane; he never asked a single question about Alyssa and me. I was actually glad for it. I knew I needed to talk to him about my drinking, about Emmanuel and Phoebe, and Alyssa and everything else that was happening in my life. I hadn’t wanted to go into an in-depth analysis during our first phone call after the way my last session had ended.

  I didn’t relish the idea of going over the twelve months that had passed in the meantime either. He seemed to sense that, or perhaps he just knew better than I did that I needed time to broach those subjects. He was the fucking shrink after all, and a highly recommended one at that. That’s why he got the big bucks.

  After I hung up, I felt as though a small part of the stress I’d been feeling was lifted. Between my mood and the phone call, I was feeling pretty fucking fantastic when I picked up the phone again to call Alyssa. It was only as I listened to the dial tone that I realised Dr. Henrikson had kept me on the phone and therefore would charge me extra for the cost of the call.

  Fucker, I thought to myself in amusement. He was a great therapist, but definitely opportunistic. He never missed a single chance to get in extra billings.

  “Hello?” Alyssa answered, obviously wary and not recognising my phone number.

  “Hey. It’s me.”

  “Mmmm-hmmm, so you finally decided to pick up a phone and call me did you?” Her irritation was clear even down the phone line.

  God, I hope she’ll let me apologise. I couldn’t explain—there was no explanation
or excuse good enough—but I could apologise. Again and again if I had to.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I’m only four years late.” I tried for the lame joke to break the tension.

  There was a strangled sound, but then more silence.

  “You, uh, you wanted me to call,” I said, trying desperately to draw her back into a conversation. If it was any other woman, I was certain I’d be able to charm them into whatever I wanted. With Alyssa though . . . She had my tongue tied up in knots so big I was lucky to be able to get any words out at all.

  “Right. So do you care to explain what the hell that was about last night?”

  Shit. I knew I’d done something to fuck it up with her. If only I could fucking remember the conversation we’d had or what I’d done. “I’m sorry, Lys. I just . . . fuck. I don’t even have an excuse. There is no excuse. I fucked up. Plain and simple.”

  “I thought you’d agreed to try my rules.”

  “I did, Lys. I am. I just fucked up. Please, let me try to make it up to you. And to Phoebe.”

  “Did you mean what you said?”

  “When? About trying? Didn’t I just say I did?”

  “No, last night at Josh’s. Did you mean what you said?”

  I tried in vain to remember what I said. “Fuck. Look, Lys, I promised I’ll be honest with you, and the truth is I can’t remember anything I said last night. The last thing I can clearly remember is . . .” I trailed off, because the last thing I could remember was buying the alcohol and climbing into the car down the Gold Coast.

  “Getting drunk?” Alyssa finished for me.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m sorry about that. I . . .” I couldn’t finish because there wasn’t an excuse. I understood that on some level. Although, it was easier to see how stupid and selfish it was when I had Alyssa on the phone and knew she was still talking to me. When she’d run away the day before, it had just felt like it was all too much and I had no other option. “Look, can I take you out to dinner?”

  “What about our agreement?”

  A small smile reached my lips as I sighed in relief. Alyssa was still going to hold me to the agreement. Which meant she still wanted to see me. “Already had my first session.”