Deceive (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #2) (3 page)

“I keep my ear to the ground. Sometimes I hear interesting things.”

“Like?” My heart raced as I remembered Danny’s wife, Hazel, watching my conversation with Paige Wood—the owner of Wood Racing, Sinclair’s closest rival. I hoped like hell she hadn’t told Danny, but I knew the chances of that were slim. She had no reason to hide it, even if it wasn’t something I wanted discussed.

“Like the rumours that Paige Wood has been courting one of my drivers.”

“Well, it ain’t fucking me. And if she did, I’d tell her where to stick it.” It may not have been the full truth, but I didn’t need to stir things up more than they already were. The fact was that even though Paige had made it clear she had her eyes on me, I hadn’t considered her offer seriously. The only reason I’d even stopped to talk to her was because I’d wanted some positive attention after the crash, and for an older woman she wasn’t too hard on the eyes. Considering driving with Wood meant driving with the psycho motherfucker Hunter Blake, nothing she could have offered would have been worth the hassle. It would have also meant moving back to Brisbane, and at the time that hadn’t been appealing.

Danny was quiet for a second. “That’s reassuring to hear. Remember you still have a year left on your contract.”

Wondering why he’d bring that up, why then, I swallowed down the lump in my throat and asked, “And then?”

“Well, that’s up to you. Isn’t it?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if you stop costing me so damn much money on the track, I’ll consider renewing your contract.”

“Thanks, that’s very gracious of you.” The sarcasm dripped off every word.

He chuckled, no doubt more satisfied by my returned snark than he ever would have been by words of reassurance. “Actually, I think that it is. You do know how much you cost me last year, don’t you?”

“Not
exactly
,” I said, “but I have a rough idea.”

“Bear that in mind when you hit the tracks next year then, and we’ll be fine. I do still believe in you, Declan.”

His words were yet another reason why the offer from Wood Racing would never have been interesting to me. As much of a monster as Danny could be when it was needed, he also made his team a family. He made you feel like he cared and did whatever he had to do to keep everything working. “Thanks, Danny. And . . . thank you, for giving me some time to sort this stuff out.”

“Where would I be if I strung out my best drivers every time they hit a rough patch?”

“Between Morgan and me? Without any drivers.” I was being a smart-arse but Danny knew that side of me. It was who I’d been before Queensland Raceway. Before I thought Alyssa had moved on with someone else and the memory of her haunted me around the track. Before I knew that it was actually me, and a genuine growing love for the sport that held my passion, that had led her trackside.

He laughed heartily. “Exactly. Well, if there’s nothing else?”

“Actually, there is
one
thing.” An idea for a date with Alyssa had struck me and I knew Danny would be well placed to pull some favours and arrange it for me. I explained what I wanted to do, and he actually sounded excited as he agreed to help me with my request. All I had to do was organise my part and wait until Saturday.

And get my car fixed.

After I’d hung up, I dressed and then went looking for Mum again. I needed her help to pull off my plan. When I found her, she was in the kitchen rearranging the cupboards.

I frowned as I watched her work.
Does she ever just stop and have a break?

And I was going to add to her load.

“Hey, Mum?” I gave her my best puppy-dog look.

She didn’t stop her incessant cleaning, but took a moment to glance up at me. “What is it?”

“What are you doing on Saturday?”

“Nothing I can think of. Why?” Her voice held just a hint of concern.

“I was wondering if you were available to watch Phoebe if Alyssa can’t get anyone else.”

She stopped and stood up properly, leaving her rag on the bench. “What are you planning?”

I winked at her. “Nothing . . . much. At least, nothing until I know for certain that Alyssa is willing to go out with me on Saturday.”
Or at all.
“I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t have an easy reason for saying no.”

“I take it you haven’t rung her yet then?”

“No, I was going to call her after my shower but Danny rang instead.”

“I hope it was nothing serious?”

I shrugged. “I’ll tell you all my secrets when you tell me yours.” I paused. “Actually scratch that, I don’t want to know your secrets and you sure as shit don’t want to know all of mine.”

“Declan—”

I cut her off with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Watch the language.”

“Exactly. And ring Alyssa.”

“Have you got her mobile number? I don’t want to call Josh’s house.”

She sighed. “Will I regret giving it to you?”

“I’m not going to stalk her, if that’s what you mean.”

“And if she tells you that she’s had enough and wants you to go?”

Fuck.
I wondered whether Alyssa had said something along those lines to Mum during the phone call that morning. The question was on my lips, but I couldn’t ask it in case the answer was yes.

Fuck me.
I’d called in a favour from Danny that I hadn’t really earned or deserved—one that would no doubt cost me in the long run—to organise my planned date with Alyssa. The entire fucking experience I was trying to put together for Saturday would be for nothing if she didn’t want to see me again. My hand gripped at my hair, tugging the auburn locks with concern.

Mum shook her head lightly and chuckled. “Don’t stress so easily. She didn’t say anything in particular.” There were times I thought Mum could fucking read minds or something—it was scary how intuitive she could be. “Between your behaviour last night, Flynn bringing you home, and Alyssa’s phone call this morning, I guessed something must have happened between you two. I just want to know that if she honestly wants you to leave her alone, you will.”

I nodded. “If she said that, and really meant it, I guess I’d have no choice, would I?”

She mulled it over for almost a minute before scribbling a number down on a piece of paper. Grabbing it off her with a grin, I headed to my bedroom, programming the number into my phone as I went to make sure I didn’t lose it.

Just as I was about to dial Alyssa’s number, my phone rang again.

Fucking popular today, aren’t I?
I sighed but then looked at the name displayed and was smiling by the time I pressed Answer. “Hello, Doc.”

“Good morning, Declan. Are you ready for your first session?”

“Sure thing, Doc. Shall I call you back, ’cause I know you’ll add a surcharge to my arse if you pay for an interstate mobile call.”

He chuckled. “Are you implying I’m opportunistic?”

“I ain’t implying anything, Doc,” I said with a laugh. “I’m saying it straight out.”

“Shooting straight from the hip, like always. Do you ever think that maybe that’s what gets you into trouble?”

“Always.” Despite the pain I was in, talking to Dr Henrikson made me almost buoyant. So long as I could convince Alyssa that my fuck-up with the alcohol was a one-off that would never happen again, I might be able to look forward to a date with her. After all, she’d agreed to a date for every session, and I was ready to have my first.

With those thoughts bouncing around within me, it was easy to ignore everything else. Okay, there was still a lot I had to arrange with Alyssa, but overall I was feeling pretty fucking elated. “I thought you were going to have Lucy call and schedule though?”

“I had a cancellation,” the doc said. “I figured you were desperate to talk to me and wouldn’t complain if I was the one to call in this instance.”

“’Course not.”

“So, tell me: where would you like to start?”

Fuck. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Alyssa had specified I try to sort myself out, but there was so much to sort. I didn’t know where to start or how much to tell him. Especially not after what had happened in our last meeting—where I’d threatened him for trying to force me to talk about Alyssa. The truth was I hadn’t really thought the whole therapy thing through. Sucking down a painful breath, I just let the first thing I could think of free. “I think I know why I was crashing?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Um, I’m not really sure, I guess.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you think is causing it?”

“Alyssa.”

I don’t know what the sound that I heard down the phone line was. It might have been the sound of him choking on a drink, a cough, or possibly even him stifling a laugh. “I thought Alyssa was off limits?”

I
really
hadn’t thought the whole therapy shit through. “She’s, uh, she’s not anymore.”

“And why is that?”

I took a deep breath. “Because almost everything I need to talk to you about from here on in centres around her in one way or another.”

“And why is that?” His voice definitely had a hint of amusement to it. He was probably just itching to mutter those four fucking words.

“Because I fucking love her. I always have, and I—I was running scared of that.” Once I’d opened my mouth to start, the words escaped me in a rush.

There was a beat of silence on the other end.

“Just say it already,” I said, to break the silence. Even though phone sessions weren’t ideal, I was actually a little relieved not to have to see his expression. Although if I closed my eyes, I could easily imagine the smug smile that had to be lifting the ends of his moustache.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Yeah, right. You know you’re itching to say it.”

“It would be highly unprofessional.”

“Fuck professional. Say the words. I dare you.”

A chuckle echoed down the line. “I told you so.”

I laughed. “See, doesn’t that make you feel better?”

His laughter grew in response. “You really are in a good mood today aren’t you?”

“I guess.” I started randomly cleaning shit up in my room, pinning the phone between my shoulder and my cheek. Each time I bent over, a new pain shot across my chest. It was starting to become clear that Mum was definitely right—I needed to see an actual doctor before long.

“Why do you think that is?” Dr. Henrikson pressed. “What’s so special about today?”

“Today is the first day of the rest of my life?” I couldn’t even say the words with a straight face. “Isn’t that the sort of shit I’m supposed to spout in these sessions?”

“You know you can say anything you want with me, it’s just between us.”

“I just . . . I don’t know. I feel like something’s shifted in the universe, know what I mean?”

“Go on.”

“I’ve had the week from hell and yet I’ve survived. More than that, I know what I want now, and I’m ready to claim it.”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“Fuck no. No one deserves Alyssa, especially not me, especially not after what I’ve put her through. She’s too good for every fucking person on this planet. But I want to work toward the possibility of maybe deserving her one day.”

“It’s not good to hold people up on pedestals, Declan. The higher you hold them in your regard, the further they have to fall when something goes awry.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t met Alyssa.”

“No. But I’d like to if this is the influence she has on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first there is the mood. You sound happier than I’ve heard you. Ever. And second, you’ve said a total of six cuss words the entire conversation. I used to be able to count that many per sentence.”

Well, fuck me. Am I that obvious?
“I guess she’s calming me a bit. Although I think I may have screwed up last night. I don’t really remember.”

He sighed. “Tell me all about it.”

So I did.

CHAPTER THREE: WALK AWAY

I HUNG UP the phone and took a minute to recap in my mind the conversation I’d just had with Dr. Henrikson. I’d expected him to ask me probing questions about why I was in Brisbane, why I wanted to talk to him daily, and mostly why I was drinking to excess again.

Instead, he simply listened as I told him the little I could remember about the previous night, then he questioned me about random stuff. What the weather was like, how long I was planning on staying in Brisbane; he never asked a single question about Alyssa and me. I was actually glad for it. I knew I needed to talk to him about my drinking, about Emmanuel and Phoebe, and Alyssa and everything else that was happening in my life. I hadn’t wanted to go into an in-depth analysis during our first phone call after the way my last session had ended.

I didn’t relish the idea of going over the twelve months that had passed in the meantime either. He seemed to sense that, or perhaps he just knew better than I did that I needed time to broach those subjects. He was the fucking shrink after all, and a highly recommended one at that. That’s why he got the big bucks.

After I hung up, I felt as though a small part of the stress I’d been feeling was lifted. Between my mood and the phone call, I was feeling pretty fucking fantastic when I picked up the phone again to call Alyssa. It was only as I listened to the dial tone that I realised Dr. Henrikson had kept me on the phone and therefore would charge me extra for the cost of the call.

Fucker,
I thought to myself in amusement. He was a great therapist, but definitely opportunistic. He never missed a single chance to get in extra billings.

“Hello?” Alyssa answered, obviously wary and not recognising my phone number.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Mmmm-hmmm, so you finally decided to pick up a phone and call me did you?” Her irritation was clear even down the phone line.

God, I hope she’ll let me apologise
. I couldn’t explain—there was no explanation or excuse good enough—but I could apologise. Again and again if I had to.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m only four years late.” I tried for the lame joke to break the tension.

There was a strangled sound, but then more silence.

“You, uh, you wanted me to call,” I said, trying desperately to draw her back into a conversation. If it was any other woman, I was certain I’d be able to charm them into whatever I wanted. With Alyssa though . . . She had my tongue tied up in knots so big I was lucky to be able to get any words out at all.

“Right. So do you care to explain what the hell that was about last night?”

Shit
. I knew I’d done something to fuck it up with her. If only I could fucking remember the conversation we’d had or what I’d done. “I’m sorry, Lys. I just . . . fuck. I don’t even have an excuse. There is no excuse. I fucked up. Plain and simple.”

“I thought you’d agreed to try my rules.”

“I did, Lys. I
am
. I just fucked up. Please, let me try to make it up to you. And to Phoebe.”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“When? About trying? Didn’t I just say I did?”

“No, last night at Josh’s. Did you mean what you said?”

I tried in vain to remember what I said. “Fuck. Look, Lys, I promised I’ll be honest with you, and the truth is I can’t remember anything I said last night. The last thing I can clearly remember is . . .” I trailed off, because the last thing I could remember was buying the alcohol and climbing into the car down the Gold Coast.

“Getting drunk?” Alyssa finished for me.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m sorry about that. I . . .” I couldn’t finish because there wasn’t an excuse. I understood that on some level. Although, it was easier to see how stupid and selfish it was when I had Alyssa on the phone and knew she was still talking to me. When she’d run away the day before, it had just felt like it was all too much and I had no other option. “Look, can I take you out to dinner?”

“What about our agreement?”

A small smile reached my lips as I sighed in relief. Alyssa was still going to hold me to the agreement. Which meant she still wanted to see me. “Already had my first session.”

“Really? When.”

“We finished about five minutes ago.”

“And?”

“And what? You expect him to fix all my fucking problems in one hour?”

A hard bark of laughter echoed down the line. “No, I guess not. When are you talking to him again?”

Fuck. I knew I’d have to tell her this part sooner rather than later, but I’d been hoping to discuss it when she was in a good mood, not when she was pissed over something I did while drunk and stupid. “Tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Her confusion was evident.

“I meant what I said, Lys. I know I fucked up last night, but I want to make up for that. In fact, the doc and I agreed that it would be best for me to talk to him daily for the moment.”

“Uh huh, and I suppose that decision was in no way influenced by
our
agreement?”

“Maybe just a little,” I admitted. I wasn’t going to lie to her about it, but I also wasn’t going to tell her that she was the only reason for daily sessions. Although I was starting to see benefits for myself too. After all, I had a reason to be better. I remembered London, looking in the mirror and wondering whether Phoebe should be saddled with someone like me in her life. I realised now that I wanted to be in her life, but it was more than that—I wanted to
deserve
to be in her life.

There was silence echoing down the line from Alyssa’s end. I could almost picture her face and the way she would be spinning her hair between her fingers as she tried to decide whether or not she was happy about that.

“Don’t worry, Lys, I’m not going to hold you to the agreement of one date for each session.” It killed me to say it, but if it made her happier, it was the truth. “Of course I’d like to see you as much as possible, but I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

“So, can I pick you up tonight? I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

“What about Phoebe? I’m not going to palm her off on people every night. She’s my daughter, I want to spend time with her.”

I began to feel hopeful that maybe I would get to see Alyssa as much as I wanted to; well, maybe not quite as much, because if I had my way I might not let her out of my sight again. “Bring her too.”

“Declan, have you ever gone out to dinner with a three-year-old?” Somehow I could hear the frown in her voice. “It’s not much fun.”

“An early dinner then? Don’t worry so much, Lys, I’ll sort it out.”
Trust me.
The words were poised on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t say them because that was part of our problem. She didn’t trust me—and might not for some time.

“If you say so.” I could hear the amusement in her voice now. She’d come full circle from when we started the call.

“What time?”

“Um, five?”

“Perfect. Looking forward to it, Lys.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you later, Dec.”

I love you, Lys.
It was too soon to say it, so I bit the words back down. For the moment.

I would tell her when the time was right though. Just like I would tell her about the visions I’d had of her while racing. That although it wasn’t her fault, every crash I’d had was because of her. I sighed. Despite ending the call on a positive note, just talking to Alyssa reminded me we still had so much to work out, so much trust I had to regain. Between that, the reminder that my car was busted to shit, and my aching side, my optimistic mood was positively dead.

More than anything, I wanted to show Alyssa that she could trust me. I would make the date perfect and stress-free for her. I would show her that I could plan ahead and be a . . . father. No, that I could be a dad. The only problem was I had no fucking clue how. I didn’t know what I needed to organise for a three-year-old. Like Alyssa had pointed out, I had absolutely no freaking clue about kids. Luckily I knew someone who did and who just happened to be sitting out in the living room right now watching some shit on TV.

“Mum?” I said as I walked up behind her.

“Did you ring Alyssa?” The words were out before she’d even spun around.

Of course that’d be the first thing she asked. “Yeah. I just got off the phone with her. I’m taking her out to dinner tonight.”

“It’s not fair to take her away from Phoebe all the time.”

“Yeah, Alyssa said the same thing. That’s why I’m taking them both out.”

Mum laughed. “Somehow I don’t think your idea of a romantic date is compatible with a three-year-old.”

“So I’ll change my idea of a romantic date.” I shrugged, and regretted the movement almost instantly when the pain in my side spread through my body again.

“Wow, Declan, is that the sound of you growing up that I hear?”

“Fuck off.” I laughed to let her know I wasn’t serious.

She shook her head but didn’t say anything.

“I’ve never spent much time around kids. At least other than signing autographs, but that hardly qualifies as ‘quality time.’”

“No, not really.” I could tell Mum was struggling to keep the amusement out of her voice.

“So what the fuck do I need?”

“Well, first you need to clean up your language.”

After making sure I was out of arms’ reach, I said, “So no saying fuck, shit, arse, dick, or pussy then.”

She shook her head again. “Declan, whatever will we do with you?”

I smirked at her. “Love me. It’s all you can do.”

She chuckled, but didn’t argue.

“Second,” she said. “You’ll need to arrange a car seat. I know Alyssa has a spare one that she lends us when I look after Phoebe.”

“Okay, car seat. I’ll get one. I’ll need it again anyway.”

“You seem confident.”

“I know how Alyssa feels about me, or at least I think I do. I mean, she hasn’t sent me packing yet even though I did some stupid shit. That’s got to mean something, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Just trying to keep you grounded in reality.”

“I know the reality. I’m also trying to fix it.”

“Fair enough.”

Talking about reality reminded me of my earlier conversation with my father. “What’s Dad’s problem anyway?”

“What?” Mum was caught off guard by the shift in the conversation.

“This morning he was going on about how he thought Alyssa was trying to trap me.”

She closed her eyes. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I think it is something to worry about if he’s going to go around bad-mouthing the woman that I love and the mother of my child.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Declan. I’m sure he’s made his thoughts clear to you in the past.” Her voice sounded . . . resigned.

I knew he’d always regretted settling down young, having me early, but it felt like there was more to it than that. “Are you trying to tell me he feels he was trapped somehow?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to talk to him about it.”

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“It’s not my place.”

“Are you okay, Mum?”

“I’m always okay, sweetheart. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are making an effort with Alyssa. She’s a good person.”

“Fine, change the subject, but I will find out what’s going on.”

“You’ll need something to keep her entertained too.”

“What?”

“Phoebe. If you expect her to sit nicely while you two eat, you’ll need crayons and a colouring book or something.”

Even though I knew it was just a distraction, I let the conversation move on. “Okay, so car seat and something to keep Phoebe occupied. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so, dear. So I assume that means you are going out now?”

“Yep.”

“You’ve still got the key?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to try to see a doctor about your side while you’re out?”

“I’ll try.”

“Well, I’ll see you later then.” It was a dismissal and I understood why when she turned on the TV. Some daytime soap was on. I chuckled. Some things never changed.

I hunted for my wallet, phone, and car keys. Then I grabbed my sunglasses and hat because I decided to brave the Grand Plaza but still wasn’t sure that I wanted to be recognised.