Decline (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #1) (23 page)

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.

“They’re in the dryer at the moment. I put them on early this morning, so they won’t be too much longer. Do you want something to eat?”

Fuck yes. I was famished, especially after not getting to eat my meal the night before because of Blake fucking Cooper. “Yeah. What is there?”

“I made some pancakes this morning and there’s some batter left over. I can cook that up for you if you like.”

“That’d be great. Um, do you think Alyssa or Flynn will want some?”

She chuckled. “Who do you think I cooked them for originally?”

“Oh.” I nodded before attempting to ask the most vital question. “So, is . . . um . . . is . . .”

I couldn’t manage to force the words out and ended up standing there making odd gestures with my hands instead.

Thankfully, Mum seemed to understand and answered me as she pulled the frying pan down to cook the pancakes. “No, dear, Phoebe’s with Ruth for today.”

I nodded, relieved. I was still unsure what to do about Phoebe, especially seeing as though Alyssa and I still needed to have our talk. I did know I wasn’t quite ready to meet my daughter yet, even if that did make me an arsehole. The truth was, I didn’t know how to deal with kids—especially not my own. While Mum started cooking, I took a deep breath to steady myself and walked back out to greet the two people in the dining room again. I sat down across from them. With the table blocking my pants from view I somehow felt even more exposed. Especially with the way both Flynn’s and Alyssa’s gazes kept dropping to stare at my naked chest.

“Excuse me for another second,” I said.

I raced back into my room and tore around trying to find a shirt or something, anything that would cover my nakedness. I finally found something in the bottom drawer—my pyjama drawer. It was an oversized boy band t-shirt that Alyssa used to wear at night when she’d stay over, always in the spare room of course—or at least so our parents believed. The tee was the only thing from my old room that might fit. Wearing a too-tight shirt would be just as bad as wearing none at all. When I pulled the t-shirt on, I felt like I’d stepped five or six years back in time.

Mum was just putting the pancakes down on the table when I arrived. I offered Flynn and Alyssa some more, but they just politely refused. It was obvious Alyssa was trying hard to hold in her laughter at the sight of me. She had to remember the shirt just as well as I did. The boy band tee was given to me on Christmas by an aunt who was told that they were
the
band for the kids. She’d bought the XL because she wanted to make sure it would definitely fit me. As such, it had swum on me and Alyssa had claimed it as a nightshirt. No doubt me wearing it was as vivid reminder for Alyssa of our time together as it was for me. It was obviously too much for her because she grabbed Flynn’s hand and pulled him into the living room. Although I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was to get away from me and my ghastly outfit or because she thought I would want some privacy while I ate.

I spread butter and sugar over the pancakes and quickly tucked in. Fuck it felt good to have something in my stomach after so long. The more I ate, the more I felt ready to face the day. To face Alyssa. I didn’t know why the fuck Flynn was there, but I was sure I would be able to convince Alyssa to talk to me alone without too much coaxing.

First I needed clothes though. Proper clothes.
My
clothes.

Once I’d finished eating, I took my dishes into the kitchen and cleaned them off before heading into the laundry. Mum was just pulling my clothes from the dryer.

Thank fuck
.

I could hear the sound of Alyssa and Flynn talking in the living room as I grabbed the thinnest shirt and pants I could find in the pile of clothing. Unfortunately, I had packed for winter in London, not summer in Brisbane, so my choices were limited. If I was going to stay in Brisbane for any length of time, I would need to go shopping or risk dying of heat stroke.

While I changed, I heard the front door open and close and then a car drive off. The sound sent my heart racing as I worried Alyssa had grown impatient waiting for me to get my shit together and talk to her. I cursed myself for fucking around so much worrying about what fucking clothes I had on. I threw the old jeans and t-shirt back onto my bed and then walked to the living room, fearful I would find it empty.

Thankfully, it wasn’t.

The fucker, Flynn, had left, but Alyssa sat there staring down at her lap. I walked over to her and offered her my hand and what I hoped was a winning smile. “Walk with me?”

She didn’t answer, but did put her hand in mine, which I took as an acceptance.

“Mum, we’re going out for a bit,” I called, leading Alyssa out the door before Mum had a chance to respond.

Alyssa and I walked in silence. I held her hand in mine, refusing to let go unless she pulled away. She seemed almost as reluctant to break the contact as I was though. Without words, we both headed straight to our table. For so many years, the park—and specifically the table in the middle of it—was our spot to go to after school when we couldn’t decide whose house to go to, or when we preferred a general lack of parental supervision. The park was where we’d shared our first kiss, and also where I’d said goodbye to her. It seemed fitting to continue our history there.

Alyssa didn’t drop my hand until we were only a few metres away from the table. She led the way over to it and sat sideways against the table, curling one leg underneath her. I sat next to her, turning into her and mimicking her position. Then I sighed.

Last night, I had been terrified of her walking away and not talking to me and now, with her right in front of me and us alone, I just couldn’t think of anything to say. She rested her hand on the seat in front of her and once again, I copied her position. Our hands linked between us—even though I hadn’t specifically planned on touching her. I wanted to ask why she was waiting at Mum’s house for me and why Flynn had been there. I wanted the answers to so many questions and yet now that she was in front of me only one thing mattered. Her.

“Are you okay?” I asked, knowing how grossly inadequate the question was, but it was a start.

She looked away from me for a second. When she looked back, she had a question rather than an answer on her lips. “Are you?”

I laughed darkly and then shook my head. “Not really, I don’t think.”

She nodded. “It’s a lot to take in, to understand. Even after almost three and a half years, I still find there are days when I just don’t get why it had to happen the way it did.”

“Will you tell me about him?”

She smiled and her eyes developed a faraway gaze. “He looked just like you. A perfect miniature Declan. It’s strange because when I was pregnant that was one thing I dreaded most. I had no idea how I would react, how I would cope, if the babies looked like you. Once he was in my arms, though, it didn’t matter what he looked like.” She dropped her eyes. “Of course, he was already gone by then, so he was just my little sleeping angel.”

“You didn’t get to hold him while . . .” The lump had grown inextricably in my throat again.

She shook her head. “No. Because they were premmie, they were in humidicribs. I didn’t get to hold him until after, when I had to make the decision about donation.” A tear ran down her cheek. Unthinkingly I raised my hand and brushed it away.

“I’m such a huge fucking arse,” I said. “It’s no wonder you hate me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t hate you, Dec. I just don’t know you anymore, not the real you.”

“I’m still the same though, Lys. Just a little bit more fucked-up.”

She chuckled but there was no humour in the sound.

“I think you were right when you said that I don’t know you anymore,” I admitted.

She dropped her head and nodded.

Touching my fingers to her chin, I guided her to look at me. “But I’d like to get to know you again. If you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that too, Declan. I just . . .” She trailed off, uncertain how to word her feelings.