“I haven’t—” I started.
“Bullshit!” he exclaimed. “Look, I know some of that article is rubbish. I’d be willing to overlook half the crap they’ve written. But Wood? How the hell could you not tell me about her trying to court you, goddammit?” He slammed his fist down on his desk on the last word. “I asked you outright and you lied to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ve had a lot on my plate.”
He scoffed. “You’ve had a lot on your plate? I was supposed to be on a plane to Bahrain yesterday, but this—” He indicated the magazine. “—arrived. So instead of watching my loyal driver who doesn’t ruffle too many feathers actually make me money, I had to stay here and deal with you.” His voice was filled with such venom as he said the last word that I knew I was done for.
What was left of my career was fast flying away from me. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
He stood inches from me, his grey hair dishevelled and out of place. Clearly, he’d been working his hands through it repeatedly. “The worst part, Declan, is how many chances I’ve offered you. Any other owner probably would have kicked you off the team a hundred times by now, but I didn’t. I saw the value in you and offered you chance after chance. And this is how you repay me?”
I shook my head vehemently. “Can I please explain?” I asked.
“No.” He said the word with such finality. My career at Sinclair Racing was over and there was no room for negotiation.
Even though I wanted to explain, I didn’t push the issue. Instead, I bit my tongue and held back my tears as I handed over my security pass and other possessions. His words, his lack of forgiveness, had torn a fracture through my heart, but I couldn’t blame him. He was right. I’d been given so many chances, and I’d fucked up every one.
I fucking loved my job with the team. Despite it all, I was still Sinclair through and through. The entire way back out of the building though, my heart clenched with fear. There was every possibility that losing my job would be the least painful of the losses I would suffer as a result of the article. Alyssa could believe every word written and never want to see me again. She could take Phoebe out of my life, and because I wasn’t listed on the birth certificate there wouldn’t be a damn fucking thing I could do about it without fighting. Only now, I had no means with which to fight.
As I trudged through the foyer, with Danny following my every footstep, my anger grew. It wasn’t some fucking coincidence that there was a photographer at all of those events.
Someone had fucked me over big time.
Someone had taken everything precious in my life away, and I had no damn fucking clue who it was or why. All I wanted to do was destroy something—to rip something, or someone, apart with my bare hands. I waited under Danny’s watchful eye for a taxi. We stood in silence while I debated whether or not to say anything.
In the end, I turned to him right before climbing into the taxi and said, “Thank you, for the opportunity and for everything. I’m sorry I’m nothing but a fuck-up.”
I turned away before I could see the look on his face. Mostly because I didn’t want him seeing the tears in my eyes. For the first time since making my choice to go to Sydney, I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do with my life. I was facing my first night as an unemployed person with no future and no hope. Worse, I had no one I could talk to. No friend I could ask for help. It was just me. And that’s all it would be.
In my mind’s eye, I could already see Alyssa’s reaction to the article. To the sight of Eden and me on the hotel balcony in Brisbane.
I’d already had two chances to make things right with Alyssa—I didn’t deserve a third.
I threw my credit card at the taxi driver as I barked out my address. Trying to make it obvious I didn’t want to make small talk with him on the way home, I turned to face the passenger window.
Once he’d dropped me back at my house, I ran inside. I picked up the phone to call Alyssa. I had to explain about the magazine before she saw it and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Although I had no way of making her believe me, I had to try.
After I rang directory for her numbers, I phoned her house. When her home number rang out, and her mobile went straight to message bank, I rang Mum and begged for Ruth’s number again. I didn’t tell her what was happening though. She didn’t even know I’d gone home to Sydney, and I didn’t want to break her heart again.
My leg bounced as I waited for someone to pick up at the damn phone. Finally, I heard Ruth’s voice at the end of the line.
“Declan?” she asked when I’d said hello. “What the hell is going on?”
My heart sank. From the tone in her voice, and the fact that she’d cursed, it was clear she knew something.
“I have to talk to Alyssa,” I said uncertainly. I wasn’t sure what I would do if she refused to come to the phone. I couldn’t afford to waste money anymore, so I couldn’t exactly get a return flight in a hurry. I would probably have enough cash available to get me through to the end of the year, but then I would have to talk to my broker about liquidating some of my other stocks after that. Maybe the house too.
“She’s not here.”
“Where is she then? Can you please give me the number? It’s urgent. I need to talk to her.”
“No,” Ruth whispered. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” I demanded, ready to challenge any excuse.
“Because she isn’t here.”
“What?” My blood froze in my veins.
“She’s not here.” Ruth sobbed.
“Where is she?” I felt a shroud fall around my mind. I couldn’t process anything. Ruth’s quiet sobs only added to my stress. Where could Alyssa be when I needed her so desperately?
“Alyssa’s gone, Declan.”
My stomach plummeted. I needed to vomit. She couldn’t be gone, she just couldn’t be.
“Why?” I asked, my voice cracking halfway through the word.
“I don’t know. She called here a little over an hour ago, shouting about a magazine or something. I couldn’t get a straight answer out of her—except that she was leaving town. She hasn’t answered her phone since.”
“No,” I whispered, my brain refusing to believe Ruth’s words. “She can’t.”
“I’m sorry.” I heard the line click as Ruth hung up the phone.
“No!” I shouted to the empty room and silent phone. I yanked on the base for the phone, tossing it across the room. “She’s not gone! She can’t be!”
My voice fell as I repeated it again and again, trying to convince myself while knowing the truth. I’d hurt Alyssa too much this time—she was gone. Lost to me forever, right when I needed her the most.
I sank to the floor as the last of my sanity seeped away from me. I couldn’t believe it. Out of everything I’d experienced over the past few weeks, this was the worst. The life I’d convinced myself I could have, that I might even deserve, was over.
She was gone.
THE STORY CONTINUES IN DECIPHER
DECIPHER
DEDLAN REEDE: THE UNTOLD STORY
(BOOK 3)
CONTENTS:
CHAPTER ONE: AN END IS A NEW BEGINNING
CHAPTER TWO: THE DREAM
CHAPTER THREE: FAMILY
CHAPTER FOUR: RELEASE
CHAPTER FIVE: VULTURES
CHAPTER SIX: LOCKED IN
CHAPTER SEVEN: EXORCISM
CHAPTER EIGHT: NOT ALONE
CHAPTER NINE: CLEANING UP
CHAPTER TEN: CABIN FEVER
CHAPTER ELEVEN: ON TRACK
CHAPTER TWELVE: CLEAN OUT
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: COINCIDENCE
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ON THE PROWL
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: DICK MOVE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: GETAWAY
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: UNITED FRONT
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: FULLY SICK
CHAPTER NINETEEN: SUCK IT UP
CHAPTER TWENTY: GOOD MORGAN
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SNAP HAPPY
> CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: INTERVIEW WITH AN EX-DRIVER
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: SECOND CHANGES
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: TRIPPING OUT
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: COMING HOME
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: FAILURE AND FATIGUE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: TESTING
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: SET-UP
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: ROLL ON
CHAPTER THIRTY: NOT SO SILENT NIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: A BLESSING AND A CURSE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: CATCHING ON
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: CAUGHT OUT
CHAPTER ONE: AN END IS A NEW BEGINNING
ALYSSA IS GONE.
The words repeated in my mind on an endless loop until they were hollow.
Meaningless.
Empty.
Like me.
Like my life.
The thoughts whipped through my mind until they filled the void the words had created, replacing everything I was with an agony that crushed my lungs and stopped my heart. The truth in it all raced through me, the pain ripping through my heart and soul. It clawed through my chest, tearing my heart into a thousand pieces that scattered like dust in the wind.
How had I gone from having everything to having nothing? All gone because of one stupid article, filled with a bunch of bullshit.
After dropping the phone handset and sinking to the floor, my mind tortured me with an endless loop of everything I’d lost.
My career.
My future with Alyssa.
My daughter, Phoebe.
The life I’d hoped I might deserve one day.
The words Ruth, Alyssa’s mother, had said before ending our phone call moments earlier raced through me over and over. “She called here a little over an hour ago, frantically shouting about a magazine or something. I couldn’t get a straight answer out of her—except that she was leaving town.”
Even though Ruth hadn’t known what magazine Alyssa was talking about, I did.
The damn fucking magazine that had fucked up so much for me already. It was the latest issue of Gossip Weekly—an article filled with little more than a fucking stack of half-truths and lies. They’d printed a series of compromising photos teamed with innuendo and bullshit as “facts.” It had already destroyed my career after an early copy had been sent to Danny Sinclair, the owner of Sinclair Racing, my former employer.
After rushing down to Sydney to see him at his request, all of my dreams had gone up in smoke in a matter of minutes.
All of my dreams, including my new one. The one I’d barely started to have; barely dared to imagine. A life with my girls: Alyssa and Phoebe.
But now Alyssa was gone, and she’d taken Phoebe with her.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the bitter disappointment and heartbreak in Alyssa’s honey-gold eyes. I’d seen it—caused it—often enough and this was obviously one step too far.
How could I come back from this when I’d been on my last chance as it was? The evidence that I was having an affair with Eden, my former teammate and friend, was compelling in print. The truth was that I was no more attracted to her than I was to the other subject of the article, Alyssa’s sister-in-law, Ruby.
If I’d had a chance to explain, maybe I could have fixed things. I couldn’t though.
Because my Alyssa was gone.
The knowledge that she’d run after seeing the article clawed at every happy memory I had from our time together since my suspension. Made me question every word I’d said. Every kiss we’d shared. Had I given her reason to doubt me? Had I not told her enough that I was ready to stand up and be the man she needed me to be? Or had I left her so broken over the years that any happiness we’d shared was weak enough to shatter at the first test?
The doubt, the fear, and the loss all pulled at the recollection of each smile. Every memory was torn to pieces like old photographs until I was nothing more than a shell filled with my bad memories and four years of regret.
One thing was clear. Whatever Alyssa believed because of that article was my fault. I’d given the gossip magazine so much ammunition, and not just in recent months. She’d had the image of me with other women shoved down her throat over and over. During my life in Sydney, I’d become the poster child for the bad-boy image. For so long, I’d thought I loved it. I’d fed it, encouraged it, and watched my notoriety grow. It’d left women lined up at my door, scrambling for a piece of the great Declan Reede. Every woman but the one I’d really wanted, even if I’d denied it at the time.
Now, that life—those choices—had come back to bite my arse big time. Even without the magazine in front of me, without my own face, turquoise eyes, and auburn hair staring back at me from the pages, I could recall each damning picture and every spiteful word.
With the thoughts of everything I’d lost, everything I’d thrown away before I ever really had it, racing through my mind, I sat on the floor and cradled my head in my hands. The pressure growing in my chest, stealing my breath, and throbbing against my skull made it impossible to move. I was unable to do anything but give in, and unwilling to even try to resist.
My fingers fumbled in my pocket to draw out the small box I’d brought with me from Brisbane. I’d slipped it into my pocket at the last second, not wanting to leave it at home just in case someone else stumbled across it. Plus, I’d thought it’d be a good luck charm.
Good fucking luck indeed.
I flicked open the lid and looked at the ring inside. Thousands of dollars I’d invested in a future that had looked to shine as brightly as the diamonds inside the white gold band, but was now as empty as the hole in the middle. Unable to look at the symbol of my shattered dreams any longer, I snapped the lid shut and shoved the ring back in my pocket.
My mind cried out, begging for relief. For a sweet tonic to salve the agony. There were plenty of options nearby. A fully stocked wet bar sat just metres away, waiting to be tapped.
Blissful oblivion hid at the bottom of each bottle.
Damn, was it fucking tempting.
My tongue slicked my lips at the thought of the liquor burning down my throat. Of it razing away the layers of doubt and remorse until they faded into the blur of hazy memories. God, I wanted that. Nothingness more complete and numbing than the blistering ache that scorched my skin with the imprint of Alyssa’s touch.
I wanted a drink.
I wanted freedom from the agony of remembering.
More than anything, I wanted to drown the pain that threatened to tear apart my chest.
It’s not like it would take much. A bottle. Two. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about magazines or Alyssa, anything. For a few hours, I would be numb.
Unfeeling.
Uncaring.
Blissfully unaware.
It was almost too easy. I was at the bar before I had even decided to move. Just the sight of the bottle of whiskey front and centre on the shelf was like a punch to the gut.
I snatched the bottle off the shelf and sank to the ground, nursing it against my chest. One hand was already on the lid, unscrewing the top as my throat ached with the need to burn.
Alyssa’s rules rushed through my head as a warning.
If I did it, if I resorted to using alcohol as a salve, I would lose her forever.
But what did it matter when she was gone anyway?
When everything was gone.
What was the point of anything?
It wasn’t just the loss of the life I’d thought I might be able to have, it was the fact that I’d lost everything. I didn’t even have the small victories my job had provided to hide behind any more.
I had nothing.
I was nothing.
Without my girls, I was less than nothing.
The bottle slipped from my hands and I let it fall into my lap. Reaching up, I clawed at my hair, fisting it. More than anything, I longed for the chance to explain myself to Alyssa. If I could convince her to grant me that tiny concession, maybe I could prove to her what she meant to me. I
wanted to tell her that I hadn’t meant to hurt her. That I’d never cheated on her. Never even felt the smallest desire to try.
From the moment I’d set foot back home in Browns Plains, every piece of me had belonged to her.
Even the broken parts.
I’d hoped that love and desire would be enough to piece us back together. I’d been wrong. So wrong, about so many things. And I’d left things in a bigger mess than when I’d arrived.
If only she’d let me explain that all I’d ever done was love her, even if my love wasn’t enough to save us.
All my love had done was hurt her more.
Sinking into the foetal position, I found the blinding truth of it all. I should have trusted my first instincts and stayed the fuck away from her. I should have listened to her father, Curtis, and brother, Josh, when they’d tried to warn me away. To the voice in my head that had whispered that Phoebe didn’t deserve a fuck-up like me as a father.
I couldn’t even imagine the pain Alyssa must have been in at that very moment. She’d told me, and shown me, so often how much it hurt her to trust me. How frightened she’d been of me.
And every one of her fears had been proven right with one fucking magazine article.
I’d caused enough pain to force her to leave. To make her feel that running away without even allowing me the chance to tell my side was the only option. All because of the crap I’d brought into her life and dropped onto her lap. How much of the eight-page article had she believed? Did she think I was sleeping with my friend and teammate, Eden? Had she been poisoned against me by the bitter words of her enemy, Darcy, and my father’s little whore, Hayley?
If only there was a way I could take away some of the pain. Both hers and mine.
I knew from my experience in London that if she wanted to disappear it would be impossible for me to contact her. She’d been as stubborn about being contacted then as I had once been. That didn’t mean I couldn’t get her a message somehow though.
There was one way I knew of to do it.
The thought gave me a small sense of purpose. It was weak, and I didn’t know how long it would last, but it was enough to force me to set the bottle of whiskey beside me, climb to my feet, and get to my study.
Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series) Page 73