Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  “Sure.” Her voice was slow, cautious. “I mean, eventually.”

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. “I don’t want any of that shit.”

  She didn’t say anything, just tightened her hold on me. I closed my eyes and tried to use her presence to calm myself, but it just made me see that life more clearly and that scared the hell out of me.

  “I want to race.”

  “What?”

  “When the contract for Sinclair Racing comes in, I want to do it. I’m going to do it.”

  “I thought we’d discussed going to uni together and then seeing what options we had after that.”

  “No, Alyssa—you discussed that. You’ve never once asked what I want.” I pulled away from her again and held up my finger to tell her to stay away.

  She gasped. “Declan?”

  “You don’t think I can make a career of racing, do you?”

  She looked into my eyes for a few seconds and then shook her head slightly.

  “You’ve never even seen me fucking race.”

  “Well, I’m sorry that cars bore the shit out of me.”

  “I fucking let you drag me all around that fucking university open day, and yet you’ve never once come to watch me race.”

  “That was for both of us.”

  “No, that was for what you wanted for both of us.”

  “Fuck that, Declan.” She was shouting at me now. “Can we not get into this shit today?”

  “Why not? It’s as good a fucking day as any other.”

  “I’m not having this same argument again and again.”

  “Maybe we keep having it because we’re kidding ourselves that we’re meant to be together.”

  “Maybe!” she screamed. She stalked into the bedroom and before I knew what was happening she was walking back out, carrying her bag and the remnants of her dress. She pushed the hotel room door open and stormed out. I watched after her for a few seconds, confused about what had just happened. I heard the elevator ding and everything caught up. We’d just broken up. Again.

  After the best night of my life, I’d thrown it all away.

  Fuck!

  I ran down the hall just as the elevator doors closed in front of her tear-streaked face.

  WHEN I saw Josh waiting on my doorstep, I’d thought he’d come to deliver a message from Alyssa, like he had so many times before when we’d had a break. I felt terrible about the things I’d said to her, and for the way we’d ended it that morning, so I was actually glad to see him. Hopefully it meant Alyssa and I could sort some shit out before any long-term plans were set. It had been a while since he’d last played messenger—not since he’d left high school himself—but I figured Alyssa had decided we needed an impartial third party this time.

  “Hey, Josh,” I said. “How’s Alyssa? She was really pissed at me when she left—not that I can blame her.”

  His reply was a fist to my stomach with such force it made me vomit. He waited until I finished heaving, then he pulled me back to my feet by my shirt collar.

  “You stay the fuck away from my sister. I would never have believed you to be capable of that fucking shit, Reede.” His eyes were narrowed and full of anger.

  “You’re acting like it was all my fault. She’s the one who fucking walked out in the middle of it!”

  He roared at me as he started his attack again. His fist connected with my eye. Then his hand was in my hair and he pushed my face downward at an alarming velocity. His knee rose toward me just as quickly and impacted with a nauseating, wet thud that I felt through my entire skull. Blood trickled from my mouth and nose. I spat out a mouthful and launched at Josh in return. It didn’t matter though. I may as well have punched a brick wall for all the impact I had. All I did was burst my knuckles open.

  He pulled my collar again, the front this time, and held me up off the ground and close to his face. He waited until my eyes were focused on his face and then he hissed venomously, “You fuck with Alyssa—you fuck with me. You remember that, Reede.”

  He pushed me back into the brick wall of the house before climbing into his car and driving away.

  I slumped to the ground; the bricks bit into my shirt and ripped it as I went. I didn’t care about that though. I didn’t care about my face, or any of my injuries, either. Because none of that mattered, and none of it hurt nearly as much as the gaping hole that opened in my chest as I realised Josh’s attack had been a message from Alyssa.

  I knew Josh well enough to know he would never have done that on his own, not over something as stupid as an argument. After all, Alyssa and I argued all the time, but we’d always made up. His visit was obviously her way of telling me she didn’t want me anymore. That if I couldn’t commit to uni and marriage, and fucking kids, then she didn’t want to be with me anymore.

  I’d made my case pretty fucking clear on those issues that morning.

  She’d just made her point equally as clear in return.

  As the hole in my chest gaped wider, I couldn’t get enough oxygen. Every breath I took pushed me closer to the edge. My head spun. I leaned my head forward into my lap. Tears sprang unbidden to my eyes. Then I cried. I bawled. Over Alyssa.

  My tears ran freely down my cheeks, mixing with blood from my split skin before forming splotchy patterns on the concrete. I tried to breathe, but every time I did, I found that everything smelled and tasted like the blood that ran thickly down my throat. When the blood hit my already agitated stomach, I vomited. Again and again my stomach clenched and I heaved until there was nothing left.

  Panic rose within me and made the tears fall faster. I couldn’t breathe and my heart raced so fast and hard I was certain it would give up at any second. The bitter taste of blood still tainted my every breath. My stomach twisted against itself in its empty state.

  My father came home to find me doubled over on the concrete. He raced into the house and grabbed an ice pack and a towel before leading me to the car. I pressed my forehead into the cool glass and cried the whole way to the hospital. When he asked what happened, I made up some lame story about being mugged in the city. I didn’t want to answer the questions that would be raised if anyone knew Josh was responsible.

  My father asked how I’d managed to drive in that condition, but I just refused to answer him. He stopped pressing for details fairly quickly, almost as if he sensed there was something I didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t ask how my night with Alyssa went. There was little doubt in my mind that he would have known about the broken lamp, the unopened champagne, and probably the lock-out as well. I was certain he’d probably pieced everything together to come close to the truth, even if he didn’t know the full details.

  When I got home from the doctor’s, I headed straight for my room. From wall to wall, it was stuffed with memories of Alyssa and me. In particular, there was one photo of the two of us from a school trip to Movie World. Without even thinking about it, I stalked to the photo and ripped it from the wall.

  “Fuck you, Alyssa,” I said through my tears as I tore the photo into pieces. “Fuck you, and your brother, and your kids and your goddamn marriage.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE: THE END OF IT ALL

  IN THE END, I missed the last week of school because of the damage Josh had caused. That whole week, I had two black eyes, a swollen cheek, severe bruising down my left side, and ringing in my ears. Worse than any of the physical injuries, though, was the gaping chasm that had replaced my heart. No matter what I tried, it wouldn’t close.

  Alyssa tried to call on the first day I missed school, but I just pressed ignore each time her name popped up on the screen.

  On the Tuesday, she called again. This time I spoke to her, cutting her off before she could say anything and telling her that Josh had made her point very fucking clear thank you very much, so leave me the fuck alone.

  On the Wednesday, I got my contract from Sinclair Racing. Mum, Dad, and I sat around the dining table with the contract sitting in the middle. With the tension in
the air, it was almost as if we were playing a game of Russian Roulette. In a way, I guess we were—just with my career.

  “Are you certain this is what you want?” Mum asked. “It’s a long way from home. A long way from us.” A long way from Alyssa. I heard the words even though she didn’t say them. Ever since the contract appeared and the vague possibility of me leaving home had manifested, Mum had become an advocate of caution.

  There was so much I would leave behind if I signed on the dotted line. It was likely that I’d never get a second chance at success though. It wasn’t like there were hundreds of openings in the field every year.

  “It’s everything we’ve been working toward,” Dad said. “How can you refuse such a generous offer that will bring you all of your dreams?”

  When I glanced at him, I could practically see the dollar signs rolling through his eyes like they did on cartoons.

  “There’s more to life than money and success. There’s family. Family matters, doesn’t it, Declan?” She looked to me to support her argument, but I was lost.

  My mind was with Josh, reliving the beating he’d given me. It was with Alyssa as we’d kissed for the first time—and as we’d given ourselves to each other. It was mourning everything I’d lost, celebrating everything I’d gained, and spinning in relentless circles of guilt, confusion, and overwhelming betrayal. That’s what Alyssa had done—she’d betrayed me by getting her brother to deliver the message so savagely.

  “He’s got years to worry about family and settling down. Right now, he’s young and he’s unattached. There’s nothing holding him back.” Like Alyssa. Again, the words never left his lips but I heard them as plainly as any he’d spoken. “Isn’t this what you wanted, young man?”

  I stared toward the contract again, the Sinclair Racing logo branded onto the front page, and took a deep breath. Mum and Dad continued to debate. Even though I tried to listen to them both, and consider the different options, all I could hear was Alyssa’s voice. “One day, Dec, you’re going to have to choose between the damn karts and me.”

  It wasn’t karts though; it was ProV8s, everything I’d ever dreamed of. I’d considered my options again and again since my fight with Alyssa, and since Josh’s message, and I wanted to sign the contract. I wanted to race. How many other options did I have, after all? It was that or go back to Alyssa, begging on my knees. Go back to the small-town plans of uni, marriage, and kids.

  Ignoring Mum and Dad as they talked themselves in circles, I released my breath in one sharp exhale, picked up a pen and signed. The sound of the pen scratching across the page was enough to draw their attention.

  “This is what I want,” I said when Mum opened her mouth—no doubt to question me again. “It’s the only thing I want.”

  Because I was still a minor, one of my parents had to sign the contract as well. Before Mum could even attempt to talk me out of it, Dad’s signature joined mine. I nodded my thanks.

  It was done.

  ALYSSA CALLED again after school had finished, sobbing down the phone line and begging me to see her again so she could explain what had happened. I agreed, but only because I needed to tell her I was leaving. After my move to Sydney was scheduled, I’d become firm in my decision and I had no intention of returning home.

  Ever.

  That was how I ended up face to face with Alyssa on the Saturday night exactly a week after we’d given ourselves to each other.

  It was the worst fucking night of my life.

  The only thing I promised myself was that I wouldn’t cry, and I wouldn’t back down. I wouldn’t leave her with the image of me as a weakling. I would be strong, and leave her with the knowledge that I was doing what was right for me. And for her too.

  She sat next to me on the table. Her eyes were already red-rimmed before she’d arrived. Her hair was pulled back into a haphazard bun. She didn’t look like she’d paid any attention to her clothes or appearance at all before leaving the house to see me.

  “Declan,” she started as her gaze assessed the heavy bruising that was still evident around my eyes and cheekbone. “About Josh . . . I just wanted to say . . .”

  “Don’t,” I said, cutting her off. “Just fucking don’t. I don’t want to know why you made him do it. I really don’t fucking care. Consider your message delivered.”

  “What message?” she asked, sounding as confused as she had when I’d said the same thing to her over the phone.

  “Fuck it. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I yanked my fingers through my hair. “The only reason I agreed to meet you tonight was to tell you I’m leaving.”

  My voice was hard because I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t allow myself to show any emotion. I couldn’t or I would crack.

  “What?” she asked, breathless. Her tears spilled over again. It was almost enough to make me lose it too. Almost.

  I bit the inside of my mouth to stop my tears.

  “I told you before. I want to fucking race.” My voice quivered slightly. I stopped, cleared my throat, and continued. “The contract came. I’m going to Sydney to race. It’s a done deal.”

  “But Declan—”

  “Don’t, Lys. It’s signed. I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “So that’s it?” Her anger broke through her tears. “No fucking discussion? Just an ‘I’m leaving.’”

  “This is for your benefit too,” I murmured.

  “How the fuck do you figure that you leaving is for my benefit?” she snapped.

  “Because you want things that I can’t fucking give you. Things you deserve. You deserve happiness, Alyssa. It just can’t be with me.”

  Her tears were joined by chest-wracking sobs. It took everything in me not reach out to comfort her. “But it’s you I want, Dec. I don’t give a shit about anything else.”

  “You do, Alyssa. You might not think so, but you do.”

  “Don’t try to tell me my own mind. I fucking know what I want. You.”

  I shook my head. “It’s too late, Alyssa. I leave on Monday.”

  She recoiled as if I had slapped her.

  “Monday?” she asked breathlessly.

  I nodded.

  “What about Schoolies?”

  I shrugged. “Go by yourself. Or don’t go at all. I don’t really give a shit.”

  She dropped her head into her hands and a wretched sob escaped her lips. I acted instinctively, pulling her into my chest, and she cried against me.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice strained and broken. “Please.”

  She pushed her face up to mine and I felt her warm lips moving against me. My own moved against her in response. My tongue worked its way into her mouth, and fuck, she tasted good. It was almost enough to break my resolve. Almost, but not quite.

  I finally remembered myself enough to push her face gently away from mine.

  “I’m sorry Alyssa.” I bit back my own tears and ignored the chasm tearing open my chest. “This is what I want.”

  “And you don’t want me?”

  “No.”

  She slapped me and then stalked off into the night.

  Good riddance, I thought as a way to stop the pain that held my aching heart in a vice-like grip. It was done, and Alyssa hated me; we were over for good. There would be no more on/off, just a permanent, unending off.

  There was no reason for me to ever see her again.

  THE STORY CONTINUES IN DECLINE

  DECLINE

  DECLAN REEDE: THE UNTOLD STORY

  (BOOK 1)

  CONTENTS:

  CHAPTER ONE: BATTLE AT THE MOUNTAIN

  CHAPTER TWO: ON REPORT

  CHAPTER THREE: HAUNTED

  CHAPTER FOUR: GETTING AWAY

  CHAPTER FIVE: SURPRISE ENDINGS

  CHAPTER SIX: CHANCE ENCOUNTERS

  CHAPTER SEVEN: UNDISCOVERED TERRITORY

  CHAPTER EIGHT: REVELATIONS

  CHAPTER NINE: PANICKED

  CHAPTER TEN: NO COMPLICATIONS

  CHAPTER
ELEVEN: WHISKEY AND ICE

  CHAPTER TWELVE: NO STRINGS

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A BIG EFFING COMPLICATION

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: REGRET

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WAKE-UP CALL

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: IT’S IN THE PAST

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: LONDON

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: MURPHY’S LAW

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: DESTINATION

  CHAPTER TWENTY: HOMECOMING

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: CASTOR AND POLLUX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: JUST A FACT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TOMORROW

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: LET’S RIDE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: SHRINK

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: TWO ON ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: UNFORGIVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: SPIRAL

  CHAPTER ONE: BATTLE AT THE MOUNTAIN

  MY CAR THRUMMED to the tune of the V8 under the bonnet. Each time my foot grazed the accelerator, an angry growl reverberated around me. The sound coursed through my body like fuel burning through my veins and sent exhilaration rushing through me. Black bitumen stretched out as far as I could see, filling my narrow field of vision with the only sight I needed to truly feel alive. The track, and my place on it, was all I cared about.

  In the distance, crowds pressed against the fences, pushing each other and vying for the best position to see the start of the race. They would watch me leap from pole position and gain further advantage over all of those lined up behind me. There was no one in front of me. No one to come between me and my victory.

  No one but me—my fucked-up mind.

  Realistically, I should have been buzzing with confidence, like I had been the last time I’d lined up for this race, but I wasn’t. Instead, a constant loop of all the reasons I was going to fail ran through my mind, diminishing my purpose and causing my hands to shake. I tightened my grip on the wheel and took a deep breath to steady my nerves. Another press of the accelerator—another roar from my beast—reminded me of the power I wielded. The whole scenario was almost achingly familiar. My last eight starts had been from pole position, but my last five races had ended in a DNF. Did. Not. Finish.