Decline (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  There was a steady stream of early messages from Morgan, all containing pretty much the same sentiments he’d offered when he’d arrived unannounced on my doorstep the night of the race. There were a few dozen from Eden, the latest one from just the day before. Somehow, she knew I was back in the country and wanted to catch up.

  Fuck me.

  The thought of having to explain to anyone from Sinclair Racing why I was in Brisbane was almost inconceivable. Especially when everything was still so fucking up in the air with Alyssa. I wondered how I could even begin to tell them about Phoebe or worse—Emmanuel. I was still trying to fucking understand it all myself, I didn’t think I could explain it to anyone else.

  I’d barely finished reading the texts and listening to the voice mails when my phone rang. Eden’s number flashed up on the screen. For half a second, I thought about not answering it but I knew what Eden was like. The fact that the phone was even ringing at all and not going straight to message bank would tell her that my phone was on. If I hung up on her before talking to her, I’d never hear the end of it. She’d probably send me out on slicks when it was going to pour down with rain. It was early in the game that I’d learned it was best not to fuck with anyone who held your safety in their hands.

  “Hi, Edie,” I greeted, pretending everything was fucking sunshine and roses.

  “Well, if it isn’t the missing man himself.”

  “I wasn’t missing, Eden,” I explained with a slow measure. “I was in London. I know you know that.”

  “But you got back the night before last and I haven’t had a single phone call from you.”

  Somehow, I just knew she was pouting as she said the words.

  “I just decided I needed more of a break away from everyone.”

  “What do you mean? Wasn’t that the point of London? Why’d you leave there if you still needed to be away?”

  “Didn’t really like it. It was too cold for me.” God this lying shit was far too easy, especially over the phone.

  “Sure.” She didn’t sound like she bought the lie as readily as I’d hoped. “So where are you now?”

  “In Brisbane.”

  All I heard was her stunned silence.

  “You there, Edie?” I asked, trying to stifle the amusement in my tone.

  “You’re in Brisbane?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Eden, why on earth would I lie about where I am?”

  “I just . . . Well, I guess, I just didn’t think you’d go back there.”

  “I’ve come to Brisbane plenty of times.” Which was technically true, although it was the first time I’d returned to Browns Plains. Usually I gave it as wide a berth as possible.

  “Sure, I guess, usually with someone from here though. I can’t remember you ever going there voluntarily. So whereabouts in Brisbane are you?”

  Fuck, she was annoying. I could lie again, but I found I didn’t really want to deceive her. She was the closest thing to a friend I had in Sydney. Fuck, she was the closest thing I had to a friend, full stop. At least until I could rebuild what I’d once shared with Alyssa.

  “Browns Plains.”

  She laughed, a nervous kind of chuckle. “I really didn’t think you’d ever go back there.”

  You and me both. I decided to play her for a bit and see if she’d admit to the whole talking about me to my mother behind my back thing. “Why not, Eden? My parents are here after all.”

  “I didn’t think you got along with your parents?” I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

  “Is that just a gut feeling?” I paused but not long enough for her to answer. “Or something you gleaned from your multiple conversations with my mother?”

  To my surprise, Eden laughed. There wasn’t a trace of embarrassment in her voice. “She told you about that, did she?”

  “Some of it.”

  “Kelly and I have become close over the years.”

  Kelly? It was so weird hearing Mum’s name come from Eden, as if they were long-time friends. I guessed they were, even if I’d only just learned of it.

  “She’s really lovely, and she was really worried about you.”

  “Yeah, when I went off the deep end four fucking years ago. That doesn’t explain continued conversations.”

  I could almost hear the eye rolling going on at her end of the call. “You think I shouldn’t care about her just because she’s your mother?”

  “Really, I don’t give a fuck whether you’re friends with her or not, I just don’t like people sneaking around behind my fucking back. Especially not people who I fucking counted as a friend.”

  “Declan, of course I’m your friend. Morgan is too.”

  “Leave that fucking boyfriend of yours out of it. There was nothing friendly about his last visit.”

  She chuckled. “If you’d just given him a black eye in return like usual you wouldn’t be so pissed at him right now.”

  I couldn’t argue because she was right but regardless, I was pissed. Although at what exactly I wasn’t sure anymore—the world in general would do. “I bet the three of you thought it was fucking hilarious talking about all my dirty laundry.”

  “Yes, Declan. You’re right. We do nothing else with our time but talk about you.” Each word was dripping with sarcasm. “I have no other possible reason for calling your mother.”

  I sighed. I really didn’t need her giving me sarcastic shit. More than anything, I was regretting turning my phone back on.

  Her tone snapped back to normal, if still slightly pissy. “It might surprise you to learn this, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Yes, you may have been the reason Kelly and I started to talk, but I honestly can’t remember the last time you were discussed other than in passing. Anyway, I didn’t call you up to fucking get abused.”

  “Sorry. I’ve just had a fucking stressful week.”

  She laughed. “You have had a stressful year.”

  She was fucking right about that, and I knew what I needed to do to start fixing that. “Eden?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you still have Dr. Henrikson’s number?”

  “Sure. Somewhere at least. I can find it for you if you like? I thought you stopped seeing him though?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “So why do you want his number?”

  “’Cause he’s the only fucking shrink I want to talk to. Is that okay with you or did I forget to ask your fucking permission?” I snapped.

  “Yes, of course. Sorry for fucking asking. I think it’s a good thing you’re going back to see him.”

  She honestly couldn’t resist fucking sticking her nose into my business, could she?

  “Can you just text me that number when you find it.”

  “Sure thing. So can we expect to see you back in the office soon? I know Morgan is hanging for a night out.”

  “I don’t know, Edie, I’m not sure whether Danny wants me back before the testing in January. Besides, I’m not sure how long I’ll be in Brisbane for.”

  “Mmmm? And what’s so special that it’s keeping you there for an extended stay?”

  My heart hammered in my chest knowing the answer to that question. Well, the two answers. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to talk about it all to anyone yet. Then again, Eden would be the most understanding, and it would be nice to have someone on my side of the fence knowing about it. For another minute, I continued my internal debate.

  “My daughter,” I finally managed to whisper when the “tell her” side won.

  I got no response. I wasn’t sure whether Eden had heard or not, but I sure as fuck couldn’t speak again. Not without throwing up. My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely hold the phone up to my ear.

  “Your what?” Eden whispered back; her voice had no more volume than mine.

  If I’d had any doubts about Mum’s story about Eden not knowing, they were swept away by the shock in Eden’s voice. She wasn’t that good of an actre
ss.

  “Phoebe.” Her name gave me a little bit of strength. “My daughter.”

  “Wow. Daughter. You have a daughter. Wow. That’s just . . . Wow.”

  “I know.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  I humphed.

  “What?”

  “They’ve fucking known all along. Ever since Alyssa found out she was pregnant.”

  “Wait, wasn’t Alyssa your high school girl or something?”

  “How the fuck would you even know that, Eden?” I’d never told her. Only one person in Sydney knew about Alyssa at all, and he was forbidden from telling anyone else under Doctor/Client privilege.

  “It was just something your mum said, when I helped arrange the surprise meeting— Wait, did she tell you about that?”

  “Yes, she fucking told me about that. Now, don’t change the fucking subject.”

  “Well, being a father hasn’t cleaned your language up any.”

  “Eden—” My voice was a low warning.

  “Your mum said she wanted to tell you something about an ex-girlfriend. She’d hoped that the two of you might work things out. I didn’t have the heart to tell her you were out screwing around all over town. She mentioned Alyssa’s name then.”

  “Well la-de-fucking-da. I’m glad everyone knows all my shit.”

  “Declan, I’m hardly everyone. And I swear I knew nothing about your daughter.”

  “Whatever, Eden. I gotta go, all right? Can you text me that number?”

  “Is that why you haven’t been able to concentrate on the track? Because of your daughter?”

  “No,” I growled. “I only just fucking found out about her a week ago.”

  “Sorry. I had to ask.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone. I just want to sort shit out for myself first.”

  “Sure thing, Declan. And I’ll get that number to you soon.”

  “Thanks, Edie.”

  I hung up the phone and stared at it until the tone beeped to indicate that I had a new message. I pulled up the number and looked at the clock through the kitchen window as I dialled. It was just after four in the afternoon. Dr. Henrikson kept precise hours and closed the office at five. I figured I would have time to call quickly, and maybe schedule a phone hook-up for the following day.

  The sooner I spoke to him, the sooner I could take Alyssa out on our first date. I rang the number and got an answering machine. I hung up the phone and as I did, I realised the time on my phone screen read just after five. I hurled the phone across the patio in frustration. I’d fucking forgotten that Queensland was too fucking backward to introduce daylight savings, so it was a fucking hour behind Sydney during summer. Damn.

  It meant I’d fucking have to wait until the next day to schedule a meeting, which would put everything a day behind.

  I walked over and grabbed my phone to assess the damage. It had busted apart when it hit the wood decking, but thankfully still worked when I pieced it back together again. I dialled Dr. Henrikson’s number again. At least I knew he wasn’t going to be there this time.

  “Dr. Henrikson. It’s DR. I want to schedule an appointment for a phone consultation. Soon. Today if possible,” I knew he wasn’t going to get the message that day, so I left the message in anticipation of him checking it in the morning. “Sorry . . . about the last session, I mean. Anyway, I’m not in Sydney, but if you call me to arrange a time, I can call you back for the session.” I rattled off both my mobile and Mum’s home number so that he would definitely be able to reach me. Vaguely, I wondered if he would actually call me back. Especially after what happened the last time we saw each other. It was hard to fucking believe that it was almost a year ago. Just after I won the championship. I thought back on that time in my life.

  “I NEED tablets, Doc. I’m just not fucking sleeping anymore.”

  “Declan, we’ve discussed this before. Giving you sleeping tablets is not going to help in the long term. They are a short-term remedy. We need to find the root cause for your insomnia.” Dr. Henrikson’s slight British accent usually made his voice calming but in that moment, it just annoyed the fuck out of me. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t just give me the fucking prescription and be done with it. Each time I returned to his office, he’d been increasingly difficult about prescribing what I needed.

  “I know the fucking cause, Doc. I can’t stop my mind from ticking over without the help of the fucking tablets.” I paced back and forth across his office.

  He sighed. “You’ve supplanted illegal drugs with legal ones. I cannot in good conscience sign a prescription for a drug addict.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m hardly a fucking addict. I haven’t touched the hard stuff for years now.”

  “You know a lot of people think that once an addict, always an addict. Besides, there are different levels of addiction and it’s been my experience that it is a constant battle often lost at the most minor of infractions.”

  “I was never fucking addicted, all right? It was just a bit of fun and fuckery, and when it went too far, I came to see you. I gave it up.”

  “If you say so. Why don’t we discuss what is keeping you awake at night.”

  I growled in frustration as I flipped around for a fresh lap in my pacing. “I told you, I just can’t turn my fucking brain off.”

  His gaze followed my steps with a practiced patience. “You must be thinking about something? Is it to do with work? Are there any problems there?”

  I stopped pacing long enough to give him an incredulous look. “Do you even fucking watch the news at all? I just fucking took the championship. Youngest driver ever to do it. So, no, there’s no fucking problem at work.”

  The end of his blond moustache lifted as he met my look with a smug smile. “Well, there must be something? What about Alyssa?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I fucking told you about her once because you asked about my past fucking relationships. I don’t understand why you feel the need to fucking bring her up each fucking session. If I wanted to talk about Alyssa, I would fucking talk about Alyssa. I don’t—so case fucking closed.”

  “Do you dream about her?”

  I flinched, because I did. Every fucking night she was there. I’d managed to purge her out of my waking thoughts, but there were two times when she invaded my life. In my fantasies if I ever indulged in the use of my hand—which was why it was easier to go to a club and pick up an easy score—and at night when I closed my eyes. During those two times, Alyssa was all I could see. “I thought I just said case fucking closed.”

  He chuckled. “And that makes me want to talk about it all the more. You’re not an off-limits type of guy. You’ve told me about your drug use, about your drinking, about the violent acts you can remember, and about your regular night-time activities. That makes me wonder why Alyssa is off-limits.”

  “Because she is,” I snapped.

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “That’s all? ‘Because she is.’”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why is she off-limits?” he asked patiently.

  I threw my hands in the air and started on my well-worn path again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” I snapped.

  “In more than one word.”

  I sighed, and pinched the bridge of my nose. He was really starting to grate on my last fucking nerve. “Because she’s in the past, that’s why.”

  “Everything we talk about is in your past.”

  “She’s in my past as in another fucking life. I don’t talk about my parents either. I don’t talk about any of my old fucking school friends. Because they all belong to another part of my life that no longer exists.”

  “But they do still exist, Declan. Don’t you see that? You can try to cut that part of yourself off, but it’s still there. It’s still part of what makes you who you are today. So why won’t you tell me about Alyssa?”
>
  “Because I can’t stand to think about her. Because thinking about her fucking stresses me out too fucking much. Because every time someone mentions her fucking name I feel like someone has ripped out my heart and lungs and I don’t fucking like feeling like that. So shut the fuck up about Alyssa fucking Dawson!” By the end of my rant I was standing just inches from him, shouting while tears of rage pricked my eyes.

  “Is it possible you still love her?” he almost whispered.

  In the next instant, I had him pinned against the wall. To his credit he didn’t even look afraid. “You are a fucking lunatic! Why the fuck do I pay you a small fucking fortune each fucking week? You don’t do shit for me. You won’t even give me the one thing I fucking need and yet you insist on harping on about the one topic I’ve said is off fucking limits.” I shoved him into the wall and pushed away. “Fuck you, man, you’re nothing but a two-bit fucking quack.”

  Turning away from him, I kicked his coffee table over before slamming his door open to leave. I stalked past the receptionist without a second glance. I hadn’t shown up for another session since.

  AS I sat, reliving the memory, I grew more unsure of what to do next. I took a deep breath and, recalling the agitation which had been such a constant in my life for so long, paced up and down the length of the patio. I had no idea how long it would be before Mum got home and until then, I was locked out and unable to change or eat or anything. I could go for a drive, but to where? The realisation of where I needed to be hit me like a lightning bolt.

  I walked back to the front yard and grabbed a piece of paper from the car. Jotting down a note for Mum, I let her know I was going for another walk, that I’d be home later, and that my mobile was on. Before long, I was back at our park. Instead of heading to the table though, I moved toward the base of the giant tree which provided shade to a section of the park. Sitting on the roots, I tilted my head back and relaxed.