Declan Reede: The Untold Story (Complete Series)

by Michelle Irwin

  I nodded. “Tomorrow it is then, Alyssa, because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you.”

  Covering the distance between us, I went to pull her into an embrace, but she jerked backward at my touch once again. I dropped my arms and my head before turning and stalking back into the house without a second glance behind me. Her little leap away from me had torn out the last little part of me that had been left unharmed.

  MY MOTHER was waiting for me in the living room when I came back inside. “Declan, what are you doing here?”

  “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “I don’t mean why are you here, because of course you’re always welcome home. I mean, why are you in Browns Plains in general? You’ve made your opinion of the town very clear in the past.”

  “Flynn. He left a copy of Phoebe’s birth certificate at my house. When I saw . . . I . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence, because a lump had spontaneously grown in my throat and I couldn’t manage to breathe around it.

  “You found out about Emmanuel?” Her voice was soft but not surprised.

  I nodded and fresh tears sprung to my eyes as the pain Alyssa had kept at bay came flooding back in.

  Mum patted the seat next to her on the couch. Without even thinking about it, I walked over and sat beside her. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d been close like this. We’d probably seen each other face to face two or three times since I’d left for Sydney, each time over coffee and each time discussing nothing but me and my career. Mum had been as reluctant to talk about Browns Plains as I always was, but I’d never really understood the reason until now. It wasn’t good enough though—she should have found a way to make me see the truth.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said in the most demanding voice I could muster, which honestly wasn’t very demanding. More . . . broken. Defeated.

  “I told you, it’s complicated.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “This whole fucking situation is complicated, Mum. I know you said you promised Alyssa, and I get that, but it’s not the only reason is it? How could you not have told me I had two kids, for fuck’s sake?”

  Her brows pinched together as I swore at her, but I could also see her biting back on her desire to tell me off for it. She looked away from me and out the living room window. “You really don’t remember do you?”

  “Remember what?”

  “The phone call we had during the first Christmas you had in Sydney or the meeting that February?”

  I frowned as her words brought up nothing; I had no memory of either event. Then I froze. Both of the times she mentioned were during my troubled time. I scoffed at myself for using that term, as if I wasn’t still troubled. Shaking my head, I turned to follow her gaze out the window. I didn’t want her seeing the guilt in my eyes over what I’d done to myself—and to other innocent people—during that time.

  “On Christmas morning, I rang you and wished you a merry Christmas. You weren’t interested in talking, and when I tried to keep the conversation going, and steer it toward Alyssa—trying to hint that you should call her, because I knew she missed you so much—you told me you were getting your Christmas present as we spoke so you weren’t interested in talking to me anymore. You made it pretty clear there was a woman with you. Of course, none of us knew about the babies then.”

  There was so much I’d done wrong to everyone I loved, and I could sense from the growing tension in my mother’s body that whatever she said next was only going to be worse.

  “Then in the February, about a week before you were due to start your first season with the production cars, your father and I flew down to Sydney to surprise you. We knew you were settling into the team and everything, but we wanted to see you before you got really busy. Alyssa had been trying for months to get a hold of you. She even tried sending an email. The reply she got had her in tears for hours. I don’t know why though, because she never let anyone see it.”

  I tried to remember an email or the visit Mum was talking about. Honestly, I struggled to remember any fucking thing from those few months, but unless it involved the hours I spent at Sinclair Racing I had nothing. I drew a complete fucking mental blank—or maybe blur was the better word.

  “We stayed in a hotel in Sydney and arranged for a table at a restaurant nearby. That lovely girl, Eden, from your work arranged for you to meet us there. We didn’t want to spoil the surprise so she told you that you were meeting a couple of fans.”

  I turned back to look at her again because her voice was quiet. She was watching her hands and wringing them together.

  “When you arrived, you were already drunk. Instead of being happy or even surprised to see us, you were furious. You started yelling about how you thought we were going to be an easy score for you and how we’d ruined your plan for the evening. You just didn’t stop. You went on for ages, tearing the place apart. We were kicked out of the restaurant, and I was so worried for your safety and sanity. I was so close to taking you back home then and there.

  “Finally, your father managed to settle you down and we asked to meet up for breakfast the next morning to give you some time to calm down and sober up. You agreed. The next morning you turned up with a strange woman practically attached to your hip. You still seemed drunk or something.”

  Or something was right. I could have taken any number of drugs that night. Fuck knows what I’d been on.

  “You sent the girl on her way pretty quickly though and I thought that maybe we could have a talk. I tried to raise the issue of Alyssa. I wasn’t going to go back on my promise to her as such, but I just wanted to give you another gentle push to call her so that you would find out.”

  She had tears running down her face. I wanted to comfort her, but I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn’t.

  “When I mentioned Alyssa’s name you went crazy again. You threw every piece of furniture you could get hold of and told me that you were happy with your lifestyle of having, and I quote, a different chick on your dick every night, and that if I ever mentioned Alyssa’s name to you again, you would slit my throat.”

  She sobbed openly.

  “Mum, I am so sorry. I wasn’t myself those few months. I had a difficult time adjusting.”

  She held up her hand to stop me, she took a few steadying breaths and then continued. “That afternoon Eden called to find out how it went, and I couldn’t help it. I told her everything that had happened with you. I just wanted to help you, to take you home and save you from whatever was causing you to act like that.

  “Eden said that she would sort you out and because she had some distance you would be more likely to listen to her than to me. She promised that if she couldn’t help you, she would let me know. The next time I spoke to you after that you seemed better, but still anxious to get off the phone. I never knew whether it was safe to mention Alyssa or not. Not that I thought your threat was serious as such, but I’d just never seen you fly off the handle like that before. It terrified me.”

  “Did Eden know too then? About Alyssa?” Did the whole fucking world know but me?

  Mum shook her head. “I never told her that. Not even when we spoke afterward and she let me know of your progress. It didn’t seem right to tell her if you didn’t know.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me after . . .” I didn’t think I would be able to say the words. At least not yet. But I hoped she knew what I meant. There was only one after anymore, after all.

  After Emmanuel.

  “The day Alyssa gave birth, I tried calling you, but there was a meet on and you refused to come to the phone because of a drivers’ meeting. I left messages for you to call me urgently. I tried to call you so many times that whole weekend, but I never got a single call back. After Emmie passed, it just became a blur of arranging birth certificates and death certificates, funeral arrangements and birth announcements. Everyone’s hearts were broken. There wasn’t any joy except when we were told that Phoebe had survived her surgery. We all wanted
time to stop, to stand still so that we could grieve properly, but there was too much to do. Alyssa had piles of paperwork that needed to be signed by the father, including the two birth certificates. There were ways around it, but they would have all taken time—time we didn’t have and didn’t want to waste. Until everything was signed, we weren’t going to be able to bury Emmie.

  “She came over here and begged for permission to put Flynn as the father because she knew he would be around for them and would be willing to sign any paperwork she required. He helped her so much during her pregnancy. She cried with me for hours about how we both wished you would just call so we could explain.

  “Then days turned into weeks, turned into months and you still never showed any interest in Alyssa. Whenever I rang you and raised the topic of what was happening at home you’d change the subject or hang up. The problem was the more time that passed, the harder it was to just come out and say the words.”

  I nodded, unsure what to do with this information. I figured my brain was AWOL and I had no idea when it might decide to return. Until it did I just needed food, a shower, and a bed. “Thank you for telling me this.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been hurt by this too, but you isolated yourself from everything so effectively I just . . . I didn’t know how to get you back. Your father wouldn’t let me fly down by myself just in case you got violent again, and you know what his hours are like.”

  I nodded, but wasn’t willing to offer anything more. I knew I should apologise for my side of the issues, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even find it in my heart to tell her it was okay or that she was forgiven. I just didn’t know anything anymore. “I need to get my suitcase from the car.”

  Stumbling up from the couch, I headed into the cool night air once more. Needing a moment to myself, I climbed into the driver’s seat of my car. I was so fucking tired. I hadn’t slept since the plane, and that was twenty-four hours earlier. My brain was numbed by grief in a way that was far more effective than alcohol or sleeping tablets had ever achieved. I sat in the car pinching the bridge of my nose until I felt like I was ready to go back inside. Then I pulled my suitcase from the backseat and headed back for the house. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was later than I’d thought.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked, surprised. Between seeing Alyssa and Mum’s revelations I hadn’t noticed his absence until now.

  Mum looked away. “He had a business meeting to attend.”

  “Until ten thirty?”

  She shrugged. “You know the crazy hours they keep. It’s to speak to people all over the world you know.” She wouldn’t meet my eye.

  I put my finger on her chin and guided her face toward mine. “Is there something you’re not telling me still?”

  Her eyes flittered away before settling back on my face. “Of course not, everything’s fine. Your dad’s always worked strange hours.”

  I nodded, partly because there was some truth in her words but mostly I didn’t have the energy to drill her for more information just then.

  “You can sleep in your old room if you like? I think there are some old clothes still in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

  “Thanks, Mum,” I said. Then I smiled at her, or at least gave her the closest thing to a smile that I could manage. “It’s nice to be home.”

  She smiled back. “It’s nice having you back.”

  When she pulled me into her embrace I could feel her silent sobs wracking her body. I stood there with my arms around her until I felt the tears stop and then carried my suitcase to the bedroom door at the end of the hall. For a moment, I paused and took stock. Just like everything else I’d encountered since being back home, I had no idea what the closed door kept hidden. It was possible I could find a shrine, untouched in the years I’d been away, or a blank canvas, a spare bedroom with every bit of my personality stripped away. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. After a deep breath to settle myself, I opened the door.

  It was the former. The only thing that had been moved was the dust. It was clean and tidy but exactly as I had left it, including the Holden posters plastered on every surface. Back in high school, I’d never had girly posters because Alyssa came by too frequently, and I thought it was in bad taste to have other chicks on the wall while I made out with her.

  It was with thoughts of her in my mind that I noticed the one change in the room. A photo of Alyssa and me. After Josh’s attack, I’d torn it from the wall and ripped it to shreds. Someone—Mum or possibly even Alyssa—had lovingly taped it back together and put it back in its rightful spot.

  I traced my finger over the Alyssa in the photo and realised that she’d been right when she said I didn’t know her anymore. The Alyssa I’d known was probably buried alongside our son. I vowed then and there that I would get to know her, and if she’d let me, I’d get to know our daughter too.

  I changed into an old pair of pyjamas, ignoring the shower because I knew that would only wake me up more, and settled into my old bed. Even with my stomach churning I fell asleep in record time.

  It turned out to be the best night’s sleep I’d had since the plane ride to London.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TOMORROW

  IMAGES OF MY night with Alyssa in London haunted me while I slept. Every sight, smell, and taste echoed through my mind on repeat. The feel of her hair brushing over my skin, the sensation of taking her bareback. Over and over, her moans and sighs filled my mind. It wasn’t like the normal dreams I’d had of her, where I was shaken awake in a cold sweat. Instead, I relaxed further into the dream until it encompassed every part of me.

  I woke up from the highly erotic dream with a start. Without thought, my hand crept down to adjust the erection I was sure to have, but instead hit a sticky mess. Fuck. Just the thought of Alyssa had given me a wet dream.

  Am I fucking thirteen?

  Climbing from bed, I went in search of my suitcase and a fresh set of clothes. It was gone though. I looked around to see if maybe Mum had moved it somewhere else in the room, but I couldn’t see it anywhere.

  Fucking great.

  Remembering what Mum said about the clothes, I pulled open my closet. When I saw a pair of baggy-arse jeans hanging in the closest, I had to laugh at the memory of how cool I’d thought I was when I’d got them. Alyssa had loved them, but only because they were so easy to pull down for quick access. Reaching for the hanger, I pulled them from the shelf. They were likely the only thing in there that even had a hope of fitting me, and that was only because they were so baggy. My time with the team, and the fitness regime Danny had us drivers on, had left me bulked in a way I hadn’t been when I was seventeen. It was more than likely that none of my old underwear or shirts would fit so I figured I’d be going commando and topless until I could figure out what happened to my suitcase. First, I needed to clean up though because there was no way in hell I was going to face Mum in pants full of jizz.

  I grabbed the jeans and a towel and headed straight into the shower. With careful attention, I unwrapped the bandages on my hands—worried what I might find beneath. Aside from a few scrapes and a couple of swollen joints though, they actually weren’t too bad. Between the almost faded bruises on my face and chest, the stitched wound on my arm and the new litany of scrapes on my knuckles, I was a fucking sight. As well as all the visual reminders of my injuries, my body hurt whenever I moved. My ribs protested, my fingers ached. Despite the job I had, and how many times I’d crashed in six months, there was only one other time in my life when I felt so fucking sore all the time, and that was after Josh beat my arse.

  Turning away from the banged-up version of myself in the mirror, I climbed into the shower. The water ran down my back and washed away the dirt and grime from the past few days. It felt . . . not great, because I didn’t know if great even existed anymore now that I knew about Emmanuel, but better. Like I could actually face the day and not just hide out in my bedroom in an alcoholic daze. I had no clue what caused the difference, but I
suspected it was the fact that Alyssa had said we’d speak again. She hadn’t shut me out completely.

  Climbing out of the shower, I realised I had no fucking idea what the time was. The sun was bright and the day was hot, but it was summer so the sun was pretty much fucking bright and the day was fucking hot almost constantly after five a.m, so that didn’t mean much. Drying off as fast as I could, I pulled on my old jeans, taking care not to catch anything vital as I pulled up the zip. They actually fit better than I’d expected them to, still hanging slightly from my waist as was their style. I walked out from the bathroom toward the dining room, ducking my head and drying my hair as I went. I dropped the towel just as I arrived in the room.

  Oh fuck me.

  Flynn and Alyssa were sitting at the dining table. Both of them wore matching expressions with their eyes as wide as their mouths. My mind raced. What the fuck were the two of them doing there? Surely it was too early for visitors? I looked at the clock. It was eleven a.m.

  “Um . . . hi?” I offered, not sure what else was adequate.

  Both Alyssa and Flynn mumbled “Hi,” in response. Even as my gaze fell onto Alyssa, hers raked over my body again, bringing my near-nakedness back to my attention. When she met my gaze, her face burned bright red—no doubt from being caught out. I turned away from her, feeling my desire grow at the thought that my body excited her so much. Still, I needed to find some fucking clothes. There was no way I could sit and have a conversation with Alyssa with nothing on but a pair of jeans. I’d be sporting a raging hard-on the whole time, which wouldn’t be appropriate for the type of conversation we needed to have. I walked into the kitchen where I could hear my mum fussing around.

  “Did you move my suitcase?”

  “I put all your clothes in the wash.”

  Ah, mothers. I might have been twenty-one but to her I would always be her baby boy who couldn’t wash his own clothes. I was just fucking thankful that I hadn’t packed anything too embarrassing. The thought reminded me of Alyssa’s vibrator, which reminded me that she was sitting at the table just metres away. I peeked out through the gap in the door to look at her. She had her head buried in her hands and was laughing about something with Flynn. It killed me to watch their obvious comfort around one another.