by Cecy Robson
“You should have warned me, Declan,” she says. “Included me in your decision, allowed me some input, given me chance to tell you what I thought. But you didn’t. You just did what you wanted regardless of how I felt.”
“I’m sorry, and you’re right. I should have discussed it with you. But I was blind with rage over what happened to Rosana. You saw me when I found out, and what it did to me. All I cared about was seeing the man who hurt her pay.” I rub my jaw when she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she’s disappointed in me. And maybe she has a right. But right now, watching her turn her back on me, on us, she’s not alone.
“Why are you leaving?” I ask. My voice is so low, I’m not sure she hears me.
“My dad’s not doing well,” she repeats. “The doctors told me if he can’t get through this next round of chemo and dissolve what remains of the cancer, he won’t survive.”
“I’m not asking you why you’re taking a leave.” I inch as close as I can without touching her. “I’m asking you, why you’re leaving me.”
She steps away. “I can’t talk to you about this.”
“Why?” She starts to turn. I reach for her hands, holding them lightly and keeping her in place. “Mel, please. Just tell me why.”
Her eyes swim with tears. “I can’t trust you, Declan. I wanted to, and I needed to, my God, I really needed to.” She breaks down. “But you’ve proved to me too many times that I can’t.”
Her words are like slaps across my face. “Were you going to tell me about your meeting with the governor?” she asks. “You know the one, where you just happened to mention you wanted to be the next mayor? Or how about when you told her we were together, when I didn’t even know what we were myself?”
Hurt and fury burn through my veins. But it’s what she thinks that I can’t get past. “You think I used you.”
Tears drip down her face and her hands slip from my grasp. “No. I think you used us. Me and my father.”
What remains of my patience abandons, leaving only rage. “You can’t be serious. You can’t possibly mean what you’re telling me.”
Her expression turns cold. “Come on, Declan. You accomplished everything you set out to do. You’re being sworn in as D.A., and there’s no one else big enough to challenge you for mayor, not after my father and the governor backed you, as well as all her sheep you cozied up to at the ball.”
My breath is coming so fast, I don’t even know how I’m able to speak. But I do. She needs to hear what I have to say. “I earned that D.A. spot and you know it. So does your father which is why he backed me. It’s what he wanted before there was ever anything between us.”
“So this thing between us was real?”
The way she asks proves she no longer believes it. After telling her I love her, nothing she could have said would have crushed me more. “You think I dragged you to bed, told you how I feel, to secure this spot and get ahead?”
“What do you expect me to think?” she asks, her expression bruising like I’m the one hurting her. “The governor was thrilled to death to hear we were together, so much so that the moment you approached her at the ball and told her all about us, any reservations she had about endorsing you for mayor were pushed aside. She told me that if Dad and I both believed in you, she had to believe in you, too.”
Her chest heaves in an out, her emotions barely under control. But I’m so pissed, so fucking dumbfounded, I can barely move.
“Did you have fun parading me in front of all those reporters, pretending like we’ve been together forever?” she asks. “Acting as if you never pushed me away and broke my heart?”
“You’re the one who walked away from me, that night, in my apartment. You left me.”
“After you told me you didn’t believe in love.” She cries into her hands, but then shoves them away. “Did you honestly expect me to stick around after that? How could I have hope for us, when you didn’t have any at all?”
“You need to stop,” I bite out. “You need to stop this shit right now.”
She points at me. “But then suddenly you were there again, right? Conveniently in time for the governor’s ball, practically telling me you couldn’t live without me―”
“Because I can’t!” I close the remaining distance between us. “Yet you’re standing here— accusing me of things that aren’t real— telling me you’re leaving and not coming back.”
A row of people hurry past us, but I barely notice them, my attention fixed on Melissa as she continues to cry. Her tears, her pain, I can’t fucking take it. As livid as I am, her misery is my undoing, forcing my own hurt to the surface. “You have to believe me,” I tell her. “You have to trust me.” My hands clasp her arms, my voice barely audible. “When I say I love you, I’ve never meant anything more.”
Agony marches across her features. “Declan, I can’t believe in you anymore.”
I freeze in place, bowled over by her admission. She whirls away, a sob breaking through her throat. She disappears around the corner, I start to race after her, but Wren’s voice halts me in place.
“Declan, Declan!”
My head whips back to where she’s standing in the hall leading to the maternity ward. I rush forward only to have the chief cut in front of her. “We got him, Declan.”
I barely hear him, watching as Curran steps out of Tess’s room and speaks to a few cops in uniform. “What?”
“Iker Escobar, he’s been apprehended and in route to county.” He frowns when I don’t move. “The press is already assembled outside the courthouse. We need you back at the office.”
I drag my hand over my face, my head still reeling from my encounter with Mel. This isn’t happening. Not now. I have to go after her.
“Declan,” the chief says. “I need you to do your job.”
CHAPTER 24
Declan
I sit at my new desk, in my new office, in the same fucking chair Miles sat in for years. My new secretary asked me if she should order a new one. But getting rid of it, I don’t know, as bizarre as it sounds, it’s like getting rid of Miles.
He’s taken another turn for the worse. Evan has come forward with new technology his company developed to try and help, and is using his clout to push through the red tape and allow Miles a trial run. I’m not sure if it’s too little too late. But if it is, I want to hang onto any part of Miles that remains and do the best job I can as long as I sit in this chair.
I met with the press about Iker Escobar’s apprehension like a good D.A., said all the right things, and left the podium to rousing applause. The court dates are set and my prep for this case is going smoothly. But nothing feels right. Rosana is still gone. I can’t bring her back.
Just like I can’t bring back Melissa.
I walked into Mel’s office the day after all the shit went down. She was already long gone, nothing of her left in that office except maybe the lingering scent of her perfume.
Her replacement was getting comfortable at her desk like she planned to stay. “Hi, D.A. O’Brien,” the leggy blonde said to me. Julia, I think that’s her name. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
That made one of us.
I’ve called Mel several times, each time I’m sent through to her voicemail. She hasn’t returned my calls or texts. The only good thing I can say is that she hasn’t blocked me, yet. But she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to me. I tried stopping by her place a few times, but she’s never there when I swing by. As sick as Miles is, I can’t show up there if it’s going to lead to us fighting again.
You might say I’ve given up. That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten her, and it as sure as hell doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving her. Nothing is the same without her. Nothing. Just like it was the last time we were apart.
I hit the speaker when my office phone rings. “Yes?”
“District Attorney O’Brien, there’s a young man here to see you, claiming to be your brother.”
A familiar laugh echoes
through the speaker. “I’m not claiming, I just am, lady. Although you should let him know which one. Can I borrow that a sec? Thanks.” Finn’s voice amplifies and there’s some rustling. I can almost picture him lifting the phone out of poor Tasha’s hand, his grin probably the only thing keeping her from screaming for help. “Hey, Deck. It’s your little brother—the good-looking one, the one with the ginger hair you wish you had and a set of abs his woman can’t stop touching.” He pauses. “You know, Finn.”
Despite my mood, I can’t help my chuckle. “Give Tasha back her phone and come in, Finnie.”
I lean back in my chair, resting my hands behind my head. Finn opens the door and steps in. He looks around. “Nice,” he says.
I don’t have to tell him to take a seat, he just does, plopping down in front of me. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Oh, Aileen let me in,” he says, motioning to the closed door. “You know, the receptionist out front.”
“I know who she is.” I frown, letting my hands drop. “How does she know who you are?” Hell, even the people who work here can’t get past Aileen without the proper I.D.
“She knows me on account of all those times I’ve stopped in to see Melissa.” He shrugs. “She told me Melissa is out on leave. I figured since I was already here, I’d see you instead.”
“You come here to see Melissa?” I ask. He nods. “Since when?”
“Since I got in trouble that last time. She’s nice. Sometimes though I just call and check in.”
Why did I not know this? “You’ve been calling my girlfriend?”
“Don’t you mean ex?” he asks. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you fucked that one up, didn’t you?”
“Shut up,” I tell him, flatly. “You don’t know a damn thing.”
“I know she’s easy to talk to. I know you were happier when you were with her, and I sure as shit know you cared about her.”
Care. Yeah. That’s putting it mildly.
My face warms and I’m ready to tell Finn he can’t put this all on me. That I’m not the only one to blame. But I don’t know anymore. Not with how I’m feeling.
I rub my face. “When was the last time you talked to her?” I ask. “And how did you start calling her to begin with?” The trouble Finn was in made him a defendant, not a victim. But Mel didn’t treat him that way. It shouldn’t surprise me, being who she is. But it does.
Finn looks at me closely, like he’s trying to get a fix on me. “It’s been a while since we talked, and long before Thanksgiving, you know, the first time you fucked up.” He grins at my narrowing stare. “When I first got in trouble, she told me if I ever needed to talk, to call her and she’d be there for me.” He shrugs. “So I did and she was.”
When I don’t respond, he shakes his head. “Shit, Declan. You finally meet someone actually worth spending time with, and just like that you let her go.” He huffs. “Dumbass.”
“It wasn’t just like that,” I say, my temper rising.
“Wasn’t it?” He leans forward. “You know what Wren recently said about you?”
I slump in my seat. “No, but I can’t wait to hear it.”
“That you’re the shepherd in the family.”
“The shepherd?” I ask.
“You know,” he says. “The guy with the big stick.”
“I know what a shepherd is,” I say. “But what the fuck does that mean?”
He glances down at the industrial strength carpet. “No, that can’t be right.”
“Good, because it sounds—”
He perks up. “You’re the sheepdog,” he says, pointing. “That was it, which makes total sense cause you’re acting like a little bitch.”
“What the hell, Finn?”
“Hear me out.” He holds his hands out, like what he has to say is important, but can’t remember exactly what it is. “We’re the flock, the seven of us with Ma. Yeah, that’s it. So we’re in the field, eating grass, playing with the cows, and jumping over fences and some shit, you hear what I’m saying?”
“I hear it,” I admit. “I just don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
He ignores me, speaking fast like he’s onto something. “But it’s like, all this time you’ve been biting our heels, barking out orders, keeping us in line, and being a dog, you forgot to look at the rest of the pasture.”
“The pasture?” I ask slowly.
“Yeah. And it turns out there’s like this whole farm.”
“With a barn full of crazy?” I offer.
He brushes the comment aside. “No, with like other pastures. And in one of those other pastures there’s another sheepdog, looking out for the flocks of ducks.”
I just blink back at him.
“Melissa,” he says, like I’m the stupid one. “Melissa is the other sheepdog. The one who looked after you, took care of you, even though she was still looking after the chickens, ducks, and goats.” He leans in. “She was the sheepdog you needed, the one you shared your bed with, the one you introduced your flock to, the one who showed you how good the rest of the pasture is and everything you weren’t seeing on that farm.” He makes a face. “Believe it or not, it sounded good when Wren said it.”
“Are you trying to tell me Melissa showed me everything I missed out on? That where I looked out for everyone, I didn’t look out for myself as I should have—in the way that mattered most?”
“Close enough.” He smirks. “Oh, and that maybe you should have puppies.”
He’s trying to tell me I shouldn’t let her get away.
And he’s right.
CHAPTER 25
Melissa
I run down the street and cut a hard right onto my block, my lungs burning as the frigid January air passes in and out with each harsh breath. I hate running. I really do. Except I no longer do it to eat what I want. In fact, there are days where I have no appetite at all. But I have to run. It’s the only weapon I have against the stress plaguing my life.
“The will is in the vault,” Dad told me this morning, his body so weak, he could barely speak the words.
“I’m not having this discussion with you,” I replied. I gathered his blanket and tucked it around him, hoping he would fall asleep so we wouldn’t have to have this talk.
“Melissa, please listen,” he said. “I’m not sure we’ll have another moment.”
He had a bad morning, a worse night, and a really bad week.
My feet stomp against the pavement, moving faster as I recall the conversation. He’s leaving me everything, but asked me to put money aside for Mae to ensure she’ll have a comfortable retirement.
“I couldn’t give her everything she wanted from me. But I can give her this,” he said.
Tears streak down my face, freezing against my cheeks. “I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy,” I told him. It was as much as I could say.
One week. In one week he’s scheduled for an experimental procedure to remove what’s left of the tumors. If he survives and recovers from the surgery, the doctors think he’ll be okay, his body ravaged, but okay.
But I’m not sure he has a week left . . .
I practically fall onto my front stoop, my breaths so labored anguish fills my chest. But I’ll recover by the time I step into my kitchen. I’m healthy, unlike my poor father.
“Don’t cry, Melissa,” he said. “If it’s my time, I’ll go willingly.”
“And if it’s not?” I asked. “Will you fight and stay with me?”
“I’ll always fight for you,” he promised.
I sniff as I lower myself into deep lunge, trying not to lose it. It’s bad enough I sobbed in front of my elderly neighbor the other day when she asked how I was doing. But it’s hard trying to stay strong. Every thought wanders back to my father and how frail he appeared beneath those heavy blankets, and how sad Mae appeared when she saw us.
Mae, poor sweet Mae. Her heart is breaking. I can see it and feel it every time she’s at my father’s side.
As l
ovely and supportive as she’s been, she’ll return to England if my father doesn’t make it. “It’s not home without him,” she confessed.
I know what she means.
My father, my only family, and the one constant in my life, may no longer be around in a few days’ time. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone.
I switch legs, stretching my tight muscles. This morning started out with me clicking the television on while still in bed, only for Declan to be the first face I saw. There he was, bigger than life as always, but this time on my flat-screen. “Governor McAdams swore in Acting District Attorney Declan O’Brien today,” the reporter said. “Officially making him the youngest D.A. in Pennsylvania’s history.”
His mother held the bible beneath his hand as he recited the oath while an army of O’Briens lined the back wall, the pride they emanated appearing to drift into my living room.
Curran stood directly behind him, holding Fiona who couldn’t stop waving at the audience. Baby Clodagh was there, too, wearing a sweet lavender dress and fast asleep in her mama’s arms.
When Curran called me to say she’d been born and invited me to the hospital to meet her, I couldn’t say no and thought I’d be okay. At first, I was, despite everything going on with Dad, this beautiful baby was a reminder of what a miracle life is.
Everything changed when Declan lifted her into his strong embrace. It was the first time I saw him hold a baby. He was a natural and it warmed my heart. But it was hard to witness what we’d never share and I had to look away.
Damn it, I hated the way we broke up and how everything transpired. The whole thing was a mess, but I can’t put it all on him, just like I can’t stop thinking about our time together. Every night when I slip beneath the cool sheets, I remember how warm his skin felt against mine. Mostly though, I think of the times we spent laughing and speaking softly.
I pull down the zipper to my running jacket, trying to cool off. I wonder if Declan knows what it took for me to trust him and how lost I am without him. I also wonder if he thought of me when he took his oath. I would have given anything to be there and celebrate the moment with him regardless of how I continue to struggle with whether our relationship was real.
