Deceive (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #2) (9 page)

“How did you meet?”

“At school.” Even though I’d decided to be an open book, it was hard to put into words everything that Alyssa and I had once shared.

“Just ‘at school?’ Won’t you elaborate?”

There was no point in evasion. If I was serious about trying to get better for Alyssa—for Phoebe—I needed to talk as honestly as I could. With those thoughts burning though me, I told him about the first time I met Alyssa, when we were six—how she was a walking contradiction and I’d been immediately enamoured.

“And then what happened?”

“Then we became friends. For about eight years that’s what we were. Friends. Best friends. We shared everything. Barely a day passed when I didn’t see or speak to her.” It was confronting, recalling exactly what Alyssa and I had once shared. I didn’t think I could articulate exactly what we meant to each other—even back then, long before we discovered our mutual attraction, long before girls stopped having germs—Alyssa was always there for me. According to all the other boys back then, I’d been risking cooties every time I spoke to her, but I never cared.

Just thinking about it all made me want to smile, and made me want to cry.

The beep of a horn behind me reminded me that I was driving. Lost in the past, I’d tuned out and the traffic had moved on. In fact, it was gaining speed. I pressed down on the accelerator as I continued to talk to Dr. Henrikson.

“She was there for me through everything. No one else knows this, but there were quite a few nights when we would sneak out after everyone was asleep and meet at our park bench. It was never planned, but somehow we both seemed to arrive within minutes of each other. I don’t know how to explain it, Doc, in fact it probably makes me sound like a fucking looney, but it was like we were linked. Like we could communicate without words.”

“That doesn’t sound unreasonable. Many people would say they have a similar connection with their partners.”

“Maybe, fuck, I don’t know. All I fucking know was that whenever I needed her she was there for me. Always. And I was always there for her . . .” I stopped. I couldn’t continue on that train of thought, because it wasn’t true. I hadn’t
always
been there for her. The opposite was true—I’d deserted her during the one time she needed my support most.

“What are you not telling me, Declan?” I should’ve known better than to assume the doc wouldn’t hear my pause.

“I abandoned her,” I choked out. My eyes stung and I was finding it hard to concentrate on the road ahead of me. I watched the taillights of the car in front as carefully as I could and followed their line.

“When?” Dr. Henrikson asked in a strangely calm, almost hypnotising voice. “How?”

“When I moved to Sydney . . .” I couldn’t say any more. There were no words to explain the shame I felt. A sob ripped from my chest instead.

“Declan?” Confusion laced his tone, and it was easy to understand why. He’d heard me rage, and scream, and swear, and argue. He’d never once heard me cry.

“I fucked up, Doc.” Another sob ripped out of my chest but the tears were merely swelling. None had fallen yet. Thank fuck. “I fucked up real bad. So bad that I don’t even know how to begin fixing things. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t left her . . . God, things might be different now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Doc. I . . . I can’t . . .”

“Would you like to stop for today?”

Did I? I felt like it was cheating Alyssa if I didn’t complete the session, but I couldn’t keep going either. At least, not while I was driving. I was already finding it difficult to even see the car in front through the tears that hazed my vision. Eventually I found my voice enough to manage a small, “Please.”

“Declan, you know I would like nothing more than for you to clear the air on every issue. But you must do it at your own pace, or it could be counterproductive. If you feel something is too difficult to discuss, we can approach it another day.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Would you like to pick this up tomorrow, same time?”

I didn’t think I really did, but I knew I would have to talk it over with him eventually or else I might as well kiss any hope of rekindling with Alyssa goodbye.

“Please.”

“Okay, we’ll pick this up at the same time.”

I knew he would still charge me for the full hour—and for the cost of the phone call—but I didn’t care. I needed to get off the phone.

Throwing my phone onto the passenger seat, I bit my lip to fight off the tears that were still threatening. Once again, I felt dangerously close to a panic attack. Doing everything I could to turn my mind off the ways I’d let Alyssa down and get back in control of myself, I weaved through the traffic as quickly as I could before taking the Elizabeth Street off-ramp. Parking in the city was always expensive, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about public transport when I was finished my meeting with Dad.

I glanced down at the clock on the dash, it was just before eleven. As I drove along Elizabeth Street, my heart thudded in my chest. I’d completely forgotten that the Suncrest Hotel was right above the car park I’d been aiming for.

The fucking Suncrest Hotel.

The last time I’d been there was when disaster struck.

When I left Alyssa.

The night of our school formal.

I hadn’t stayed at any Suncrest hotels since then, but this one in particular I couldn’t handle. Focusing on the car park entry, and
only
the car park entry, I was determined to get in before I broke down. It was all too fucking much.

I ripped the ticket from the machine, glad they had the unmanned booths now. The boom gate opened and I drove underneath. Without even looking at what parks were available, I headed straight for the bottom level, twisting around the ramps and corridors without letting myself concentrate on details. I only stopped when I saw a group of unoccupied parks clumped together in one spot. After I’d pulled up, I slammed my fists against the steering wheel in frustration. Why the fuck had I come here? Ugly reminders of the formal were everywhere I looked. Every level of the fucking car park was the same—each one looking exactly like it had been when I’d had to drag my sorry arse from the hotel room after Alyssa had left.

Every agonising second of that dreadful walk rushed back into my mind. What should have been a short walk to the car with Alyssa at my side on the best morning of my life had instead felt like a funeral march after the death of our relationship. I couldn’t even feel satisfied over the fact that we’d made love for the first time the night before. In fact, I felt sickened at the fact that it happened right before our break-up.

I recalled with perfect clarity how, somewhere between the lobby and level P3, I’d resolved that regardless of anything else that might happen, I would win Alyssa back. That I wouldn’t run away and leave it as we’d left it. I’d hoped that with a little space, we’d come back together to discuss uni and my contract with Sinclair Racing again, and come to some sort of compromise. Of course, when I’d reached that resolution, I hadn’t counted on Josh waiting by my door to beat the shit out of me.

My breathing came in ragged heaves as the panic attack that had been threatening for so long hit with full force. The reminders of the past were too much. It was all too much. Somehow the last two weeks had simultaneously been the best and worst of my life.

I couldn’t do it though. I couldn’t cope with everything I was facing. How could I win Alyssa back when all we did was hurt each other? Even if we got past that, how could we ever have a future with the obstacles in our way? Her family hated me, she’d admitted as much.

They would never forgive me.

I
would never forgive me.

Twisting in the seat, I pulled my legs up to my chest, ignoring the biting pain as the steering wheel dug in to my shins, and the stabbing that shot through my side. Putting my head on my knees, I tried to breathe but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. I couldn’t stop the thoughts that were consuming me for long enough to draw oxygen down into my lungs. A vicious cycle of heartbreak and doubt.

Wrapped around myself, one thing was certain: I was going to die. And a fucking car park in the city was going to be the cause.

Fumbling with the door, I reached the handle and yanked it open. I half-climbed, half-fell from the car and landed on all fours on the concrete. Struggling for air, I pushed the door shut to remove it from my path and crawled to the front of the car. Squeezing myself between the front bumper and the concrete wall, I tried to hide from the prying eyes of passers-by. Once hidden, I sat staring at the blank concrete and leaned against the car, dropping my head back to rest against the bumper as I tried to get my breathing under control.

What the fuck am I doing?

Hours later, that may have only been minutes or even seconds, I felt my breath begin to return, bringing my sanity along with it. I was able to remind myself that despite the odds, Alyssa was willing to give it another go.
She
was willing to try to forgive me, even if her family couldn’t accept that. That was what mattered.

Standing, I drew one more shaky breath, steeling my nerves and my resolve. I would find my father and talk with him, find out what the hell Alyssa and Mum were hiding. Then I would use that knowledge, and all of the information at my disposal, to work hard until I earned Alyssa’s forgiveness. Until I deserved it.

Without glancing back or around me, I locked the car and headed toward the elevator. One more reminder of the night it had all fallen apart might have been enough to kill me. Not for the first time, I wished I could turn back time and make it all better. Do it the right way the first time.

Inside the elevator, my eyes scanned the levels and my finger hovered over the buttons. An idea formed. Maybe I
could
make it better. I couldn’t actually turn back time, but maybe I could do the next best thing.

Making up my mind, I pushed the button for the hotel lobby rather than the shopping centre entrance below. I gulped nervously and said a silent prayer that my plan would work.

As the elevator doors opened, I planted a smile on my face and walked up to the concierge. I saw recognition light up his features immediately. The look was enough to leave me hoping it would be like shooting fish.

An hour later, my plan was set into motion and I didn’t even have to organise a fucking thing. It was likely the hotel manager would have eaten his own shit if I’d asked him to. Sometimes the whole celebrity thing wasn’t so bad, especially when you could call on favours from fans by greasing the right wheels with a few autographs and a couple of happy-snaps.

After heading back down to the food court in the shopping centre beneath the Suncrest Hotel, I had a quick bite to eat. While I ate, I thought of the week I had planned out for Alyssa. If it wasn’t the best fucking week of her life, something was wrong. I grinned stupidly as I imagined the look on her face. I very nearly turned straight around and headed back to her house to see her. But then I remembered I’d actually come to the city with a purpose.

I cleared my table and walked out into the Queen Street Mall. I knew the route to Dad’s work by heart and my feet trailed along the familiar path while my mind wandered elsewhere.

As I passed Post Office Square and approached the building that housed his bank, my eyes scanned the small cafe across the road. I couldn’t say what had initially drawn my attention, but once I looked there, I couldn’t turn away. My hands clenched into tight fists at my side.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it was there plain as day.

In that moment, I saw everything.

I saw him.

Then I saw her.

And then I saw red.

CHAPTER NINE: COLLAPSE

“WHAT THE
FUCK
do you think you’re doing?” The words left my lips as soon as my brain had taken in the details of the scene.

Even as I spoke, I tried to work out which part of the scene I found most disturbing. The fact that my father had his hand in another woman’s lap, the fact that she was feeding him and he was pulling all sorts of ridiculous faces as he licked the fork clean, or the fact they were doing it out in public, without any shame. As if it was just a normal relationship, and not a filthy fucking affair.

Despite all of that horrid detail, there was one thing more disturbing.

Much, much more disturbing.

And that was the fact that the girl was Hayley Bliss. One of the members of the blonde brigade who’d been in my year at school.

As if signalled in on cue, a tonne of questions and doubt smashed into my brain. Was Hayley the first and only, or just the latest in a string of lies? Had there been others like her over the years? Countless others? Had all of the late nights and the weekends away when I was in school been because of affairs? My stomach turned at the thought, and I felt sorry for Mum, stuck at home doing all the housework while Dad was off shoving his dick into a scrag.

At the sound of my shouting, Dad looked up. I wasn’t sure whether it was because he recognised my voice though, because almost everyone in the cafe raised their head at the noise.

I tuned out everything around me except for him and her. My sole focus was on my father and his floozy. I didn’t even watch for cars as I stormed across the busy intersection.

Dad leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process. It clattered loudly behind him. “Declan? What . . . what are you doing here?” He looked around between me and that tramp, as if willing himself to understand. Or maybe he was just trying to come up with some bullshit excuse.

I didn’t stop my charge until I was in his face. In the same motion, I raised my hand and fisted his shirt collar. Using it as leverage, I lifted him to my level. It hurt like a sonofabitch but I didn’t give a shit. He needed to pay. The look of terror on his face was evident. For years, he’d always managed to maintain a certain level of authority, even as my height towered over his. It was only during the last week that his power had waned. I couldn’t say at exactly what point I’d lost my respect for him, but it was definitely sometime between his words about Alyssa and the sight of him with
her.

I’d been raised believing that marriage was for life, and that vows were sacred—special. That you made promises and kept them for life. That was part of the reason I’d been so fucking terrified of my feelings for Alyssa. To discover that the very person who taught me that—the same man who’d claimed he had to give up his dreams to get married—was off on dates with a whore half his age . . .

“What. The.
Fuck
. Is. Going. On?” My face was right in his as I spat the words at him.

When I finally tore my eyes away from him, I turned to look at Hayley. She was still sitting at the table with a look that rested halfway between fear and amusement.

Before I could do any serious damage to him or myself, I pushed Dad out of my way in disgust.

When I turned on her, Hayley gave a nervous giggle and said, “Um, hi, Declan. I, ah, didn’t expect to see you here. Although Robbie had told me you were back in town.”

Robbie?
What the fuck. I took a step toward the table and she shrank back in shock. Her eyes widened as she speedily moved her chair backward, as if getting ready to run at any second.

My head swung back and forth between her and my dad, not trusting myself to talk. I knew that in my current mood a stream of invective would be the most conversation I was capable of. Not that they didn’t deserve it. Both Dad and Hayley kept their eyes on me. Both wary as if I were a hungry predator preparing to strike.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but the red haze still filled my vision.

“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on here?” I shouted, kicking out and knocking over the table in front of Hayley. She screamed and leapt out of the way as the contents went flying, spraying coffee or chocolate or something all over the ground and on some of the surrounding patrons, who all fled as quickly as they were able.

“Calm down, son,” my father said, placing his hand on my shoulder. Knocking his arm off roughly with my elbow, I twisted out of his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” I spat at him.

His eyes darted from side to side, making me partly aware of the gathering crowd. It wasn’t enough to stop me though. I couldn’t give a fuck about anyone watching, I just wanted answers.

At the same time, I really didn’t want to know.

“Does Mum know?” I asked through gritted teeth. My heart pounded against my ribcage so hard I was surprised that it wasn’t audible to everyone nearby.

“Can’t we go somewhere a bit more discreet to discuss this?” Dad asked, glancing around once again.

“Does Mum know?” The words burst from me as I picked up the nearest chair and hurled it at the wall. Screams from the bystanders filled the air, but I couldn’t care less. Anger burned through me and I needed to release it. At least it was only a chair and not Dad’s face. For now.

Dad hung his head. “She knows.”

“Does she fucking know it’s with a slut who’s three months younger than me?” I growled. “I mean, what the
fuck?
” I picked up another chair and threw it to punctuate my sentence. Someone behind me put their hand on my shoulder.

“Sir,” a calm but authoritative female voice said from behind me. I shook my shoulder free of the loose hold.

Dad squared up in front of me. “Hayley and I are in love, Declan. In a way I’ve never truly felt about your mother.”

A different hand rested on my shoulder, once again trying to turn my attention away from my father. A male spoke this time, “Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to—”

Ignoring whatever it was he wanted to say to me, I shook free of the hold. Despite voices murmuring around me, words like damage, police, and leave, my focus remained pinned to Dad. “Are you fucking kidding me? You are screwing
Hayley
, and you have the gall to call it love? She’s the town fucking bicycle for fuck’s sake. Worse, she’s younger than
me
—your fucking son! All of that and you have the nerve to tell me you’re in love?”

I was dangerously close to losing control, but was surprised when Dad did first. I saw his fist the second before it connected with my jaw. The impact hurt, but I’d had worse. Morgan and I had swung at each other often enough over the years to leave me more than ready for a fight with my middle-aged father.

I retaliated—hard.

Grabbing at the side of his head, I caught a fistful of his hair and yanked his head backward. My other fist flew at his face with all the power I could muster. At the last second, he yanked himself away from my hold, but my fist still connected in a glancing blow.

Without waiting to recover, I threw myself at him in a tangle of limbs. My chest protested the movement, but I couldn’t stop myself. He landed a blow along my left side, and the breath rushed out of me as I gave a strangled cry. It didn’t stop me though. It only gave me motivation to hit harder, faster.

Fuck him
!

My fists smashed into his body again and again until I felt myself being pulled off him. I struggled against the arms that had me, kicking out and knocking over more tables. Everything was tinged in red and I was beyond all reasoning.

All I saw was the object of my fury in sharp relief. Everything else was a blur. I heard murmurs of conversations, and screaming, and the sun reflected off the metal tables over and over, flashing in my eyes each time.

Before I could process what was happening, I was being dragged back across the road. My father stepped forward and embraced Hayley fucking Bliss. As if he was fucking
comforting
her. At the sight, I went to launch myself across the road at him again. How
dare
he do that to Mum? How could he be so brazen and uncaring as to flaunt his fucked-up relationship in public?

Before I could make my point again, two meathead security guards from the building that housed the investment offices of the bank, including Dad’s office, stepped in front of me. They were obviously the ones who’d dragged me away. Without me realising it, I’d been backed into a corner by them. I could have tried to fight my way out, but I didn’t really like my chances. Instead, I turned toward the wall and butted my head against it, focusing on the pain of the brick biting into my forehead to take the mind off my burning rage, aching side, and twisting stomach.

I kicked off from the wall to face the security guards again. They stared impassively at me, as if daring me to try to run. I knew they had no legal power to hold me against my will, but they were also big enough to beat the shit out of me if I tried to make a break for it. While I was cornered, a police car turned up and two officers climbed out. Dad stepped straight up to them and shook their hand. Ever in control.

Ever the slimy bastard, more like.

I turned back toward the wall and let loose a roar of primal anger before pounding my fist against the brick, just imagining it as my father’s face. I pulled my fist back and shook my hand—the action had fucking hurt and only made me madder.

I spun around again when I heard
his
voice barking out instructions to the guards. They turned and left, and suddenly I was face-to-face with the man who had been my hero while I was growing up.

The man I now despised.

Without even thinking about it, my fingers curled into fists at my sides. My knuckles protested. They were swollen and sore and wouldn’t form a fist properly, but it would be enough to do some damage.

“I’ve smoothed things over with the cafe owner,” he said. “He’s agreed not to press charges if the damage is paid for.”

“Like I give a shit,” I spat at him. “How could you do it?”

“I’ve told you, son—”

I cut him off. “Don’t you fucking
dare
call me that! You need to be a fucking father before you get to call me son.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose—a gesture I’d actually learned from him. “Declan, go home and calm down. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

“Like fuck you will.” I wanted to smack his smarmy face again, but instead I thought of Phoebe. What sort of father would
I
be if I kept it going? If I wasn’t the bigger man by walking away?

I took a deep breath and stared him down. Shifting my gaze behind him, I saw Hayley cowering near the building entrance. When I looked between them it occurred to me that I had never hated two people more in all my life.

“You are fucking dead to me,” I spat as I shoved him away. “Stay away from me. Stay away from Alyssa. And stay the
fuck
away from Mum. You don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve any of us.”

Before he had a chance to respond—and before I had a chance to lose the sliver of control I had on my temper—I turned and stalked away. Even then, it was only thoughts of Alyssa and Phoebe that stopped me from turning around and kicking his arse. Well, thoughts of them and the fact that I knew the two boofhead security guards would be there waiting if I did.

I may have been angry but I wasn’t fucking suicidal.

I made it back to Post Office Square before my lungs threatened to collapse on me. Anger still coursed through me and I had no way of releasing it. My fingers began to shake as I felt my breath leave me entirely. While my legs felt weak beneath me, my brain began to muddle. Needing to get out, get
away
, I picked up my pace and headed back in the general direction of the Barina.

By the time I hit the end of the Queen Street Mall, I was practically running. While I raced toward freedom, I drew quick laboured pants through my teeth.

I needed . . .

I fucking didn’t know what I needed.

I just needed to get away. I needed to forget. I needed to wipe the image of my father’s intimate interactions with Hayley fucking Bliss out of my mind. Questions I really didn’t want the answers to raced through my mind on an endless track. Why was she in the city? Did she work with him? How long had he been fucking her? Did it go back to high school?

A shudder ran down the length of my spine.

I took the stairs into the Suncrest Shopping Centre two at a time before screeching to a halt at the bottom when I saw a sign.

A way to cope.

The only way I knew how.

The temptation of the pub—the sweet siren’s call—was too great and I couldn’t resist. Hiding my bloodied hand behind my back, I nodded briefly to the bouncer. I didn’t want him to stop me, or ask me questions, because questions led to thoughts and I didn’t want to think about Dad, or Hayley, or anything really.

I wanted to bring on oblivion.

Oblivion and ignorance.

When I reached the bar, I didn’t hesitate. The order for a triple shot of Jim Beam was on my lips the instant I had the bartender’s attention. Past experience had told me that a couple of those would get me sufficiently blotto as fast as possible.