“Really? When.”
“We finished about five minutes ago.”
“And?”
“And what? You expect him to fix all my fucking problems in one hour?”
A hard bark of laughter echoed down the line. “No, I guess not. When are you talking to him again?”
Fuck. I knew I’d have to tell her this part sooner rather than later, but I’d been hoping to discuss it when she was in a good mood, not when she was pissed over something I did while drunk and stupid. “Tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Her confusion was evident.
“I meant what I said, Lys. I know I fucked up last night, but I want to make up for that. In fact, the doc and I agreed that it would be best for me to talk to him daily for the moment.”
“Uh huh, and I suppose that decision was in no way influenced by our agreement?”
“Maybe just a little,” I admitted. I wasn’t going to lie to her about it, but I also wasn’t going to tell her that she was the only reason for daily sessions. Although I was starting to see benefits for myself too. After all, I had a reason to be better. I remembered London, looking in the mirror and wondering whether Phoebe should be saddled with someone like me in her life. I realised now that I wanted to be in her life, but it was more than that—I wanted to deserve to be in her life.
There was silence echoing down the line from Alyssa’s end. I could almost picture her face and the way she would be spinning her hair between her fingers as she tried to decide whether or not she was happy about that.
“Don’t worry, Lys, I’m not going to hold you to the agreement of one date for each session.” It killed me to say it, but if it made her happier, it was the truth. “Of course I’d like to see you as much as possible, but I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
“So, can I pick you up tonight? I mean, if that’s okay with you?”
“What about Phoebe? I’m not going to palm her off on people every night. She’s my daughter, I want to spend time with her.”
I began to feel hopeful that maybe I would get to see Alyssa as much as I wanted to; well, maybe not quite as much, because if I had my way I might not let her out of my sight again. “Bring her too.”
“Declan, have you ever gone out to dinner with a three-year-old?” Somehow I could hear the frown in her voice. “It’s not much fun.”
“An early dinner then? Don’t worry so much, Lys, I’ll sort it out.” Trust me. The words were poised on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t say them because that was part of our problem. She didn’t trust me—and might not for some time.
“If you say so.” I could hear the amusement in her voice now. She’d come full circle from when we started the call.
“What time?”
“Um, five?”
“Perfect. Looking forward to it, Lys.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll see you later, Dec.”
I love you, Lys. It was too soon to say it, so I bit the words back down. For the moment.
I would tell her when the time was right though. Just like I would tell her about the visions I’d had of her while racing. That although it wasn’t her fault, every crash I’d had was because of her. I sighed. Despite ending the call on a positive note, just talking to Alyssa reminded me we still had so much to work out, so much trust I had to regain. Between that, the reminder that my car was busted to shit, and my aching side, my optimistic mood was positively dead.
More than anything, I wanted to show Alyssa that she could trust me. I would make the date perfect and stress-free for her. I would show her that I could plan ahead and be a . . . father. No, that I could be a dad. The only problem was I had no fucking clue how. I didn’t know what I needed to organise for a three-year-old. Like Alyssa had pointed out, I had absolutely no freaking clue about kids. Luckily I knew someone who did and who just happened to be sitting out in the living room right now watching some shit on TV.
“Mum?” I said as I walked up behind her.
“Did you ring Alyssa?” The words were out before she’d even spun around.
Of course that’d be the first thing she asked. “Yeah. I just got off the phone with her. I’m taking her out to dinner tonight.”
“It’s not fair to take her away from Phoebe all the time.”
“Yeah, Alyssa said the same thing. That’s why I’m taking them both out.”
Mum laughed. “Somehow I don’t think your idea of a romantic date is compatible with a three-year-old.”
“So I’ll change my idea of a romantic date.” I shrugged, and regretted the movement almost instantly when the pain in my side spread through my body again.
“Wow, Declan, is that the sound of you growing up that I hear?”
“Fuck off.” I laughed to let her know I wasn’t serious.
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
“I’ve never spent much time around kids. At least other than signing autographs, but that hardly qualifies as ‘quality time.’”
“No, not really.” I could tell Mum was struggling to keep the amusement out of her voice.
“So what the fuck do I need?”
“Well, first you need to clean up your language.”
After making sure I was out of arms’ reach, I said, “So no saying fuck, shit, arse, dick, or pussy then.”
She shook her head again. “Declan, whatever will we do with you?”
I smirked at her. “Love me. It’s all you can do.”
She chuckled, but didn’t argue.
“Second,” she said. “You’ll need to arrange a car seat. I know Alyssa has a spare one that she lends us when I look after Phoebe.”
“Okay, car seat. I’ll get one. I’ll need it again anyway.”
“You seem confident.”
“I know how Alyssa feels about me, or at least I think I do. I mean, she hasn’t sent me packing yet even though I did some stupid shit. That’s got to mean something, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Just trying to keep you grounded in reality.”
“I know the reality. I’m also trying to fix it.”
“Fair enough.”
Talking about reality reminded me of my earlier conversation with my father. “What’s Dad’s problem anyway?”
“What?” Mum was caught off guard by the shift in the conversation.
“This morning he was going on about how he thought Alyssa was trying to trap me.”
She closed her eyes. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I think it is something to worry about if he’s going to go around bad-mouthing the woman that I love and the mother of my child.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Declan. I’m sure he’s made his thoughts clear to you in the past.” Her voice sounded . . . resigned.
I knew he’d always regretted settling down young, having me early, but it felt like there was more to it than that. “Are you trying to tell me he feels he was trapped somehow?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to talk to him about it.”
“I’m trying to talk to you.”
“It’s not my place.”
“Are you okay, Mum?”
“I’m always okay, sweetheart. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are making an effort with Alyssa. She’s a good person.”
“Fine, change the subject, but I will find out what’s going on.”
“You’ll need something to keep her entertained too.”
“What?”
“Phoebe. If you expect her to sit nicely while you two eat, you’ll need crayons and a colouring book or something.”
Even though I knew it was just a distraction, I let the conversation move on. “Okay, so car seat and something to keep Phoebe occupied. Anything else?”
“I don’t think so, dear. So I assume that means you are going out now?”
“Yep.”
“You
’ve still got the key?”
“Yep.”
“Are you going to try to see a doctor about your side while you’re out?”
“I’ll try.”
“Well, I’ll see you later then.” It was a dismissal and I understood why when she turned on the TV. Some daytime soap was on. I chuckled. Some things never changed.
I hunted for my wallet, phone, and car keys. Then I grabbed my sunglasses and hat because I decided to brave the Grand Plaza but still wasn’t sure that I wanted to be recognised.
CHAPTER FOUR: REPAIRS
THE REMNANTS OF my somewhat happy mood were wiped away when I got outside and saw my car again. The scratch along the side—the one I’d caused . . . somehow—looked even worse than it had the first time I’d seen it. My Monaro was my baby, and I’d done everything I could to keep it pristine. Even though it was a few years old, there wasn’t a scratch on the paint or the rims. At least there hadn’t been until I’d fucked it up good and proper. After popping the locks with the remote, I ran my fingers across the exposed metal surface.
Fucking hell. It was just lucky that I’d only damaged the car. It was a miracle I hadn’t killed myself or someone else.
Taking care not to hurt my ribs any further, I ducked down to examine the damage closer. The scratch had torn off the paint, but as I ran my finger over the worst of it, I found that it hadn’t bent the metal too badly along most of the car. The front fender was rooted and would probably need to be replaced. Still, from what I could tell, the chassis wasn’t bent. The car wasn’t a write-off. It was the sort of damage that would take the boys back at Sinclair just a couple of hours to fix with their ready spare parts, willing hands, and array of tools. Considering they could repair a car overnight, it would have been an easy task for them. The longest part would be the paint booth. I didn’t expect that any local smash repairers could get it done that fast, but there wasn’t much choice. I needed it repaired before I went home.
Adding find a repairer into my mental to-do list, I climbed behind the wheel. When I did, I stopped and stared at the card on the dash. Sitting in front of the gauges was a card for Eastern Smash Repairs. I figured it was Dad’s way of trying to mend the bridge between us. He was a car guy at heart after all. If anyone understood how much the damage hurt to look at, it would be him.
Putting my child seat shopping on hold for a little while, I headed toward the address on the card. At least it was close, so it wouldn’t be a huge detour to, at minimum, get a quote.
A little less than five minutes later, I pulled up into the car park at Eastern Smash Repairs. It was more sophisticated and bigger than I’d expected for a suburban smash repairer. The front of the building, no doubt housing the admin offices, was all tinted glass, shiny aluminium, and navy walls. Four large roller doors faced the road, each one painted a pristine white. It certainly looked like the sort of place I could trust to work on my baby.
After I’d parked in one of the covered parking bays, I headed into the reception area. Chimes sounded when I pushed the door open and a young man who couldn’t have been more than seventeen glanced up at me with a polite, welcoming smile at the ready. A second later, recognition lit his eyes and his smile widened. Behind his desk was a large plastic sign bearing the business name.
“Declan Reede,” the receptionist said in awe as his eyes grew as wide as his smile.
“Um, hi.”
He stood and practically leaped around the desk to get to me. “I was told to expect you, but wow, I didn’t think I’d actually get to meet you.” He stuck out his hand. “It’s a huge honour, sir.”
I shook his offered hand. “Just call me Declan.”
After everything that had happened in the last few days, I’d almost forgotten my celebrity status. It had been so easy to get sucked into a well of darkness, that it was almost refreshing to see the hero worship on his face.
Although he looked like he might choke on his own tongue in his happiness, he nodded and repeated my name.
“You said you were expecting me?”
He nodded. “Mr. Olson said you might come in for a quote.”
“Olson?” The name rang a bell in my mind, but I couldn’t immediately place it. I was so certain Dad had been the one who’d left the card. Who else would have had access to my car to put the card on the dash?
Motherfucker! The answer struck me in an instant and I couldn’t believe the interfering arsehole. “Flynn Olson?”
The receptionist frowned, his confusion clear on his face. Then he nodded. “Yes, Mr. Olson said you had some damage on your—”
Without waiting for him to finish, I turned around and headed back out the door. The chimes that had greeted me sounded again and drowned out the last of the sentence.
“Bastard,” I hissed under my breath. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d taken over my place in Alyssa’s life, now he wanted to call the shots when it came to repairing my fucking car.
When I hit the car park, I saw the fucker kneeling down in front of my car inspecting the damage. One hand lifted to rub over his short, jet-black hair.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I called out.
He stood and spun on the spot, but the face that greeted me wasn’t the one I’d seen with Alyssa at Queensland Raceway or the one from Emmanuel’s graveside. It was almost but not quite the same. His eyes were the same as Flynn’s, especially the way they narrowed at the corners as the man glared at me.
“Well, I was inspecting the damage so that I could give you a quote, but I don’t need the hassle of rude customers so I don’t think I’ll bother.”
“Just ignore his grumpy arse, Cain. It’s me he’s upset with,” Flynn’s voice called from behind me.
Cain . . . the fucker Alyssa had been with. I clenched my jaw tightly as I considered it. Images of his hands trailing paths through Alyssa’s hair assaulted my mind. His tongue exploring her mouth. His body pressed against hers. Her hands—
My teeth ground together as I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind. Fuck this, I don’t need this shit.
I didn’t need to be there. There had to be other smash repairers around. I unlocked the car with the remote and moved toward it.
“Wait,” Flynn said. His voice was closer than it had been. “I need to talk to you.”
I spun on him. “Yeah? Well I don’t have anything to say.”
“Tough shit, because I do. And I’m sure Alyssa will be interested to hear of your unwillingness to listen.”
I curled my fingers into a fist around my keys. Motherfucker. I sighed, forced my hand to relax, and locked the car again.
“Leave the keys with Cain,” Flynn directed, as if he actually had some authority over me.
“Why—”
“There’s no one better, that’s why. At least, not nearby and maybe not at all. I’m sure you’ll want that damage fixed before you have to explain it to Alyssa.” His smug look indicated that he knew exactly what had happened. Added to Dad’s words and Mum’s assertions that I needed to find some way to thank Flynn, it was clear that he’d been there. Somehow, he’d found me and taken me—and my car—home.
That was the only reason I muttered, “Fine,” and threw the keys to Cain.
Without another word, Flynn spun on his heels and headed back into the building. After balling my hands into fists again, I huffed out a breath to calm myself and then followed him inside.
He led me past the receptionist and into a spacious office. With a wave of his hand, he motioned toward two tub chairs along one wall. I stood in the middle of the room until he turned around. My fists curled and uncurled at my sides. I wasn’t going to make it easy for the fucker.
“Just sit will you?”
I crossed to the chair and sat, letting out a huff as I lowered myself down. This better be fucking worth it.
He leaned against the desk and looked at me.
“Want a drink?” he asked, but his tone indicated it was a smart-arsed remark not a polite offer.
I knew his true colours would come out as soon as we were alone.
“Fuck off.”
“Charming. I can really see why Alyssa likes you. You’ve got that whole warm and fuzzy thing—”
I’d stood and crossed the room halfway through his sentence. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You’ve got this whole nice-guy thing going on when it comes to her, but you don’t fool me. You’re a self-entitled arsehole.”
I got up in his face, a sneer curling my lips. “I’m only an arsehole when people make me one.”
He clenched his fists at his sides. “The only reason you’re still standing right now is because I know how to control myself. Now, sit.”
“You know what, it’s not even worth it.” With the sneer still cemented on my face, I reached for my car keys before I remembered Cain had taken them for his fucking quote. Fucking shit!
I stopped and clenched my fists before turning back to Flynn. “You wanna get to whatever point you wanted to make? ’Cause I sure as hell don’t have all day to sit around and shoot the shit.”
He raised one eyebrow at me. “What the hell was that last night?”
“What fucking business is it of yours?”
“Your drunk arse almost ran me off the fucking road before you crashed into that guard rail, that’s what.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?”
Unwilling to explain my life to him, I crossed my arms and raised one eyebrow.
“Not only that, I don’t know why you’d do that to Alyssa. She’s trying—so damn hard—to trust you again for Phoebe’s sake, and how do you repay her? By breaking her rules at the first opportunity.”
“How do you—” I was going to ask how he knew that but there was only one way. My jaw clenched tightly as I thought about the fact that Alyssa had spilled our secrets to him. “She told you.”
“Everything. From the whiskey to the whispered declarations. I know it all.”
My fists clenched and unclenched against my legs. I itched to wipe the smug expression from his face. The fact that his brother had the keys to my baby—to my escape route—was the only reason I didn’t. “Well, that’s just—” fucked up “—great.”
Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series) Page 42