Wholehearted (23 page)

He felt more tired than he had since that night in Texas. His body felt battered and bruised, his limbs heavy. The exhaustion stemmed from the night of fitful and restless sleep he’d had. He had spent the night tossing and turning, waking up to remember that Lucas was gone. With each realization, sorrow bloomed in his guts, prompting the release of the stress chemicals that would make it that much more difficult to get back to sleep.

Resigning himself to the fact that the day was going to suck hard no matter what, he rolled himself out of bed and attempted to stand. His head was aching, and his eyes were stinging from the constant rubbing. He felt like shit. This was worse than Texas. At least in Texas, it was only his body that had been broken. This was his heart, too.

He wanted to hold out hope that Lucas would come back, that he would take a few days off to cool down, and then they would fall back into each other, and everything would be okay. They could go into the trial as a united front, Declan there to support Lucas. He knew it was going to be difficult for Lucas to face his attackers, but if Declan were there with him, maybe it would be easier.

Declan squished his toes into the carpet, and stretched his arms above his head. Anything to try to feel normal.

He walked to the kitchen, making a quick pit stop in the bathroom, and then over to the coffee maker, hoping a pot of coffee would make him feel a little less like a zombie. He set the pot to brew and sat down at the table to wait. The wooden chairs seemed colder and less welcoming this morning. He was hallucinating. He folded his arms in front of him, lay his head on his forearms, and closed his eyes. They were dry, scratching with each movement behind the closed lids. He breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of coffee as it began to permeate the air.

The machine made the awful grinding noise that let Declan know the pot was ready, and he stood, pulling a mug from the cupboard and pouring the dark liquid in. He raised the mug to his lips, slurping the coffee in with cool air to keep from burning himself.

“Ugh,” he scoffed. The coffee tasted like crap. He had gotten used to Lucas’s coffee.

He poured the rest of the mug in the sink and rinsed out the cup. So much for caffeine to help him wake up.

His last option was a shower. Maybe hot water and a good scrub would have him feeling more like a whole person and less like a shell of one.

He pulled the curtain across, enclosing the tub, and turned the water on. While he waited for the water to heat up, he stripped out of his clothes. He rubbed his hand over his stomach, the touch feeling foreign. It was as if he was separated from his body, like someone else had taken over.

Declan stepped under the spray, tilting his head back to let the water fall against his face. He held his breath until his lungs burned with the need for air. Stepping back he grabbed a cloth, pouring body wash into it, wincing when the scent created an influx of memories. Washing Lucas’s hair, showering together, the feeling of Lucas’s body melding with his under the water. It was all too much, but there was nothing Declan could do to escape it.

Lucas had become so inextricably intertwined in Declan’s life in such a short amount of time. There was no running away from it. All he could do was take a few days to wallow and then suck it the fuck up and be the kind of man Lucas needed him to be.

If Lucas couldn’t forgive him, at least Declan could be there for him, make things easier when it came time for the trial. He owed him no less than that.

Scrubbing the cloth over his skin, he watched the pale become pink. His movements were quick, efficient. Quickly, he finished up and turned off the taps, stepping out onto the light-blue mat. He wrapped a towel around himself and walked back into the bedroom. If he was going to give himself those three days to wallow, he might as well do it properly.

The light cotton sheets stuck to Declan’s damp skin as he crawled back into bed. Leaning over the side of the bed, he retrieved the remote from where it had fallen on the floor. After clicking on the TV, he flicked the channel to the trash station, buckling in for the long haul of a
Hoarders
marathon.

Declan didn’t watch TV very often, but sometimes he just needed to turn his brain off completely and check the fuck out.
Hoarders
was perfect for that. It gave him the chance to turn off his brain, and at the same time, it made him feel better, because no matter how bad he thought his circumstances were, there were people out there that were worse off than he was.

F
IVE
HOURS
later, Declan had seen as many desiccated animal carcasses and piles of boxes and clothes as he felt he could handle. After extricating himself from the nest he had built, he padded to the kitchen to find something to eat. He pulled open the fridge and perused the contents. Nothing. Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the number for Marcus at Mario’s. Tonight was usually the night he ordered from Maggie’s, but he knew that Mack would have told Oliver about what had happened by now, and he didn’t feel like talking. Oliver would want to talk. Marcus wouldn’t.

Marcus’s new server answered the phone, and the kid didn’t recognize his voice. He gave the kid his order—a large chicken and garlic pizza with extra banana peppers—and hung up, going back to the bedroom to get dressed before he had to arrest himself for indecent exposure.

The sun was setting low on the horizon behind his house by the time the pizza arrived. Declan expected Scott, the usual delivery boy, but he opened the door instead to Marcus.

As soon as Declan saw the sad, drawn look the other man wore, he knew that Marcus knew. If the news had spread to Marcus already, then likely the whole town knew what had happened.

“Hey Dec,” said Marcus

“Hi Marcus. How’s it going?” he asked, trying to sound as normal as possible. It was bad enough that everyone knew he had had his heart broken, that it was him that had fucked up his budding relationship, but to have to see the looks of pity was more than Declan wanted to deal with.

“Pretty good. Business is good. Hired a couple of new kids to help out. Working out pretty good so far. How are you?” Marcus asked meaningfully.

Declan sighed, as quietly as he could. He knew Marcus wasn’t trying to pry, that he was just trying to be a good friend and he appreciated the intention, just not the delivery.

“I’m okay. I’m guessing you heard about Lucas.”

“Yeah, I might have heard Ms. Libbey talking about it tonight when she came in to pick up dinner. You okay?”

“Yeah, just a rough patch I think. We might work it out. If not, then it wasn’t meant to be,” he said with much more conviction than he felt.

“Well that’s good,” Marcus said. The lag in conversation hung between them, awkward as ever, as they both tried to think of something to say. “Here’s your pizza,” Marcus said finally.

“Thanks,” Declan said, as he held out his fist with the cash for it.

“Oh no, it’s on the house tonight,” Marcus insisted.

“That’s really nice of you, man, but really not necessary. I’m fine.”

“My wife left me five years ago. I was a mess for longer than I care to admit. I know how hard this is. Just trying to make things a little easier for you is all.”

“I appreciate it, really. Thank you,” Declan said graciously.

Marcus left, and Declan closed the door behind him. The pizza smelled good and made his mouth water. Instead of eating it in the kitchen, he carried it back into his bedroom and climbed back into bed. Despite the delicious smell of his dinner, the pizza tasted flat and bland. He ate it anyway, swallowing each bite down in the name of nourishment, rather than enjoyment.

When he was finished, he set the empty box aside and curled back up under the covers. His limbs ached from being in one position all day, but he couldn’t summon the energy to get up and move around. He stretched them out under the blankets, spreading his fingers wide and pointing his toes until they shook from the effort, before curling back in on himself and closing his eyes.

The TV was still flashing when Declan fell back into a fitful
sleep.

T
WO
DAYS
later, he had to return to work. He had spent all three days off wallowing and moping. Now it was time for him to man up and do his job. The sun had been a constant presence in the sky during his time off; the bright rays mocking him with their optimism. Now that he was back to work, the skies had opened up and let loose the hammering downpour that was beating against his roof now.

There was nothing quite like a dreary fall morning to make him want to get out of bed and out into the world. It was at moments like this that Declan almost wished he had a pet. It would be nice to have someone else wandering around the house to make it seem a little bit less empty.

He shaved and washed his face with cold water. The frigid temperature helped to wake him up and prepare him for the day. He wasn’t sure what kind of a welcoming he would receive when he walked into the station, but he was sure that everyone knew what had happened. If Marcus and Ms. Libbey knew about Lucas leaving, then the whole town knew, and that included everyone at the station. He was on patrol that day, and the thought of interacting with half the town left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was better he got it over with now, though. Putting it off would only give people time to talk and create even more stories than Declan was sure they already had. He was certain he had incurred at least the wrath of Mack, something he would have to deal with as soon as he arrived at the station. Mack was scheduled today, and would be pissed that Declan had been all but unreachable for the last three. He’d been screening, ignoring everyone who had called. Mack and Oliver had called several times. Even Haydn had tried to call once or twice.

He’d thought about turning off his phone completely, but didn’t want to risk missing Lucas if he called.

He hadn’t.

Declan pulled on his uniform and buckled the utility belt around his waist. Only ten minutes left until he had to leave. Just enough time for some borderline toxically strong coffee. He headed to the kitchen to microwave the coffee left over from the night before. There was no need for a fresh pot; all he needed was the caffeine injection. It didn’t need to be delivered in a gourmet package.

The outside of the metal thermos was just starting to warm by the time Declan ran to his car, a newspaper held over his head to protect him from the rain.

The dismal weather matched his mood, but he forced a smile on his face and walked through the double glass doors into the station. He was determined to get through this day, reassuring himself that the first day back would be the most difficult.

Lisa was sitting behind her desk, looking miserable as ever.

“Morning, Lisa,” Declan said, impressed with how normal his voice sounded. He thought by now it would have sounded gravelly from disuse.

“Officer Grant,” she said with a nod.

“Mack in his office?”

“Sheriff Macklin got in about an hour ago. He instructed me to send you in when you arrived.”

“He didn’t happen to say what it was concerning, did he?”

“Of course not, but you’re a bright boy. I’m sure you can figure it
out.”

“Thanks anyway,” Declan muttered as he walked past toward the back of the precinct where Mack’s office was located.

He tapped gently on the door, wishing in the back of his mind that Mack would be wrapped up in something and he could avoid this impromptu little meeting.

No such luck.

“Come in,” Mack’s voice boomed through the heavy wooden
door.

Declan turned the knob, feeling very much like his stomach was twisting in the same way. Time to face the music.

“Feeling better?” Mack asked as soon as Declan had seated himself in the chair across from Mack’s desk.

“Yeah,” Declan replied. “I want you to reinstate me on the case.”

Mack looked at him as though he’d just said he wanted to quit the force to become a country-singing astronaut.

“Please. I’ve fucked up more than enough this month, and this is my chance to make it right.”

“It’s a risk,” Mack admitted. “If the defense finds out about your relationship with Lucas, it could undermine the entire case.”

“I’m a good cop, Mack. I did my job, filled out the initial reports. Nothing was overlooked.”

Mack nodded. “Good. To be honest, we’re understaffed and if my hunch is right, your feelings for Lucas will make you a better officer than anyone else to deal with this case. The prosecution lawyer is coming in today to go over the reports with you. I’ve left everything on your desk. They’ll be here at nine.”

Declan glanced at the clock that read 8:37. Not a lot of time to prep for the meeting.

“Do you know who is representing the prosecution?”

They hadn’t been involved in many criminal cases in the recent past. Most of the crime in Hope Cove was, in reality, harmless. There had been a couple of domestic abuse cases that Mack had pushed the state to prosecute. Both times the lawyer who had handled the cases had been April Reese. She was known for being tough but fair and one of the best lawyers the state employed.