Wholehearted (25 page)

“Gee, thanks,” Declan muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s wrong with Oliver?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Something weird with him and Mack. Don’t know much, but whatever it is, he isn’t sleeping much.”

“Are they fighting?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s in here all the time and they have hushed little super-secret conversations in the back. Doesn’t seem like a fight, but whatever it is, it’s fucking with his head.”

Haydn turned, pulling the coffee pot from the machine behind the counter. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Haydn pulled out the biggest coffee cup he could find and filled it to the brim. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Same shit. You know.”

“Ah yes. Love. Beats the shit out of you, and then it’s over.”

“Something like that.”

“That’s why I’ve sworn off love. Forever. Not doing it. Never done it before, not gonna start now. Better to have loved and lost and all that bullshit? I don’t think so. Fuck it. It’s not for me. Gimme a hot man, one sweaty night, and I’m a happy boy.”

Declan just shrugged, too exhausted to argue with Haydn. He was broken now, but held out hope that he could get Lucas back. He wouldn’t give up the memories he had with the man for anything in the world, no matter how much it hurt.

He gulped down the thick coffee, reveling in the feeling of the warmth traveling through his chest. It was the first time he had felt truly warm in days. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he wanted to enjoy it while he could. Wrapping both hands around it, Declan held the mug close to his body.

“Whatever’s going on, Oliver has been a grump, all dark and moody. Has Mack been a total ass hat lately too?” Haydn asked.

Declan thought about it. He hadn’t really noticed anything outside of his little bubble for a while. He tried to remember if Mack’s behavior had been odd. He did remember Mack being a bit short with him when Reese was there, but that couldn’t have been anything more than work stress. Then he remembered Mack saying something about personal issues.

He hadn’t checked in with him for a while. Declan had been so wrapped up in his own stuff that he hadn’t bothered to talk to his friends about anything. The guilt weighed heavy on him.

“A little maybe. I might head over there and see how they’re doing. Is Oliver at home today?”

“Yeah, I told him not to come in. There’s only so much of his dark circles and saggy fucking skin I can take before I get truly bitchy on his ass. I met my limit yesterday.”

“Maybe I’ll head over there now. Do you have a to-go cup I could grab?” He wanted to see what was going on with his friends, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave the caffeine behind.

“You bet.” Haydn bent and retrieved a bright-red cup from behind the counter and handed it to Declan. “Good luck over there. Might be a little bit like the perfect storm gathering around their house.”

“I’ll take my chances. Thanks for the coffee,” he said as he got up and walked to the door.

“You’re welcome. See ya, Dec.”

“Bye, Haydn,” he said, pulling open the heavy wooden door and walking back out into the cold.

M
ACK
AND
Oliver’s house wasn’t far from Maggie’s shop. Up a couple of blocks past the market and then a couple more blocks of residential before he was walking up the gravel driveway. He could hear Rigsby barking through the door, and as he got closer, he realized the dog’s barking was eclipsed by the sound of a child screaming. Bizarre.

He knocked, but when there was no answer, he opened the door and went inside. There was no way anyone would be able to hear him knocking over the crying.

He toed off his boots, left them by the door, and walked through the house toward the sound. He found Mack and Oliver, looking completely frazzled, staring at a baby in a bassinet in the middle of the living room.

“Uh, hi guys. Sorry to barge in like this, but no one was answering the door. What’s going on?” Declan asked.

“Oh my God, Declan. She won’t stop crying. She just cries all the time. I don’t know what to do with her,” Oliver said, his eyes wild. They were red and swollen. On the whole, Declan was willing to bet Oliver looked worse than he did, and that was quite a feat.

Mack just stared at him, waiting for him to say something.

“Is she hungry? Wet?”

“No, I don’t think so…. I don’t know… she just cries and cries. We’ve changed her, and tried to give her a bottle, but she just turns her head and she won’t eat. She won’t fucking eat, Declan.” Oliver was on the verge of losing it. Lack of sleep and constant worry about the tiny little person wailing away in front of him had frayed his nerves.

Declan walked over to the little bed and looked down at the screaming infant. Her cries were hoarse, as though she’d been at it for hours. If the way the guys looked was anything to go by, she’d been at it for days.

“How old is she?” Declan asked.

“Six days,” Mack replied, finally finding his voice.

“You got a blanket?” Declan asked. Oliver handed him a soft cotton blanket, dotted with pink ladybugs.

Declan spread the blanket out on the couch in a triangle shape, then leaned over the bassinet, picking up the baby, carefully supporting her head. He placed the baby on the blanket and folded the bottom corner up over her feet before folding the sides securely around her tiny body.

He lay down on the couch, gently laying her on his chest, her head resting over his heart. He rubbed the top of her head gently and breathed in and out slowly. It took a few minutes, but eventually she quieted down and closed her eyes to sleep.

“Holy fuck,” Oliver hissed, too scared to use his full voice. “How did you do that?”

“My sister had a baby when she was nineteen. I helped to take care of him for a while before I went away to school. This used to be the only thing that would quiet him down when he cried. The swaddling makes her feel like she’s back in the womb, and if she can hear your heartbeat, it’s comforting for her.”

“I could kiss you,” Oliver said, dropping down next to Declan to get a closer look at the sleeping baby. Mack shot him a dirty look.

“So you wanna tell how this all came to be?” Declan said, gesturing between the baby and the agitated men.

“It’s why I’ve been so distracted at work,” Mack said. “You know Sandra Crowdon?”

Understanding dawned over Declan. “This is her baby?”

Sandra Crowdon was a sixteen-year-old girl who had gotten pregnant the year before. When the news had first hit the Gossiping Ladies News Network, it had been quite the scandal, but once the shock had worn off, people went back to their lives and mostly disregarded Sandra’s condition. She had been tight-lipped about her plans once she gave birth, but no one had pressed her too hard for answers. She was a good girl who had made a mistake, and no one in Hope Cove doubted that she would make a smart decision when it came to her child.

“
Was
her baby,” Oliver said proudly, “and now she’s our baby.”

Mack smiled then, the grin lighting up his whole face. Declan looked back to Oliver who was sporting a similar expression. Declan had never seen them so happy. Even after Oliver had come back last year, Mack hadn’t looked this all-embracingly, beamingly joyful.

“Mack was called into the hospital in Ellsworth last week just after she was born,” Oliver said.

“Sandra called me and asked me to go. She told me that she’d been thinking about who she wanted to raise the baby and the two people she felt loved each other more than anyone else she knew were Oliver and me. She asked me if I wanted to be a daddy. She handed her to me, and as soon as I held her in my arms, I knew that she was ours. Giving her back to Sandra was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I needed to talk to Oliver before I said yes.”

“When he came home that day and asked me if I wanted kids, I didn’t think he meant right that minute, but he dragged me out to the car, and we drove to Ellsworth. One look at her and I was in love,” Oliver said.

Declan could feel the love radiating from the two proud parents. “You wanna hold her?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

“No, no. She’s so happy and
peaceful
where she is. I don’t wanna wake her up,” Oliver said.

“You won’t. Here,” Declan said, leaning forward slightly, shifting the sleeping bundle to a position where he could hand her off to her proud daddy. Oliver held out his arms, a look of terror on his face.

“She’s out, man. It’ll be fine.”

Declan transferred her to Oliver’s arms, grinning as Oliver heaved a sigh of relief when she didn’t wake up.

“Does she have a name?” Declan asked.

“Margaret…. Maggie,” Mack replied. Declan smiled again. It was perfect that they named their daughter after her.

“That’s perfect, Mack.”

“We thought so.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you guys? I remember the first few months when Jess brought Dylan home. No one got any sleep; we lived off of fast food and were basically zombies all the time.”

Oliver visibly cringed at the mention of fast food as he glanced over at Mack, a silent conversation taking place between them.

“What?” Declan asked.

“Nothing,” Mack grunted.

“Mack,” Oliver said, his voice low with admonishment.

“Fine—” Mack redirected his attention to Declan. “—I need you to do one thing for me.”

“Anything,” Declan promised.

“It’s about the case. The DA wants Lucas brought in to her office to begin prepping for the trial. She’ll need to prep you too, but she wanted more time with Lucas. I need you to go pick him up and take him to the office in Bangor to work with Reese on Thursday.”

Declan stayed quiet, the information filtering through his brain and sending an influx of neurochemicals surging through him. He was elated and terrified all at the same time. It had been weeks since he had seen Lucas, and he had been falling apart without him. The prospect of seeing him again was a huge relief. He wanted to weep with it.

The unknown of what Lucas’s reaction would be was distressing. If Lucas had the same reaction as the last time he had seen him, Declan would be devastated. The possibility that Lucas had had a chance to cool down and might be able to forgive him filled him with hope. There was only one way to know and so there was only one answer for Mack.

“Of course. Give me the details, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Lucas is staying at a safe house in the city.”

“A safe—”

“I arranged it after the arrests were made. I wanted to keep him safe, and I knew he couldn’t stay in Hope Cove. You both needed some time and space to get your heads on straight.”

“But how—”

“I called in a favor to Sergeant Jim Banner, an old friend of mine. He set it up, and we moved Lucas in the day after he left your place.”

Declan tamped down the urge to fling himself at Mack and hug the breath from his body. All those nights of worrying that Lucas was in danger of being found by Matvey. Of course Mack wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Mack cared about people to a fault, and someone who was as important to Declan as Lucas was would be considered top priority.

“Just give me the address, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“All the information is at the office. Lisa has the address and contact number for Lucas’s house. Reese is expecting him first thing Thursday, so you might want to head out to Bangor tomorrow night and stay in a hotel. Take the department card.”

“Sure, and Mack? Thanks.”

Mack smiled knowingly. “You’re welcome.”

T
HE
NAUSEA
crept in around thirty minutes into Declan’s drive to Bangor. At one point, it became so overwhelming, he steered his cruiser over along the dirt and gravel shoulder of the road in case his dinner made a repeat appearance.

He threw the car into park, pressing the pad of his finger to the button to roll down the window. He sucked in the cold air from outside, in through his nose, out through his mouth, trying desperately to keep it together.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn’t even going to be seeing Lucas for another twelve hours. Just knowing where he was, though, and having that looming deadline of 8:00 a.m. ahead of him, made his stomach roil over again. He needed to get his shit together. He was a mess, and he couldn’t afford to be. He had a job to do—a very important job—get Lucas back.

Of course, he also needed to get Lucas to Reese’s office by eight thirty, but in his mind that detail shrank behind the giant proportion of needing to hold him again.

He pulled into the parking lot of a Hampton Inn just after nine o’clock, unloaded his bag from the trunk of the car, and walked through the double sliding doors into the lobby. A cheerful woman was standing behind the counter waiting to check him in.

By the time he reached his room, the exhaustion had set in. He knew he would not be able to get very much sleep that night; a combination of nervous excitement and his body being conditioned not to sleep would keep him awake long into the early hours of the morning. For now, he was at least able to crawl into the queen-sized bed, pull the white duvet over him, and rest.