Declare (Declan Reede: The Untold Story #4) (28 page)

I frowned, utterly thrown by what it was that could be so terrifying for her that would bring something positive.

“So, I was thinking that maybe . . .” She paused again and took a deep breath. “Maybe I should book an appointment to have the Mirena removed? Maybe we should . . . you know,
try
?”

“Try?” I asked stupidly before the impact of her words hit me. I knew much more about the Mirena—the hormone-releasing IUD—than I had when we were in London. I knew the basics of what it was and what it did.

And she . . .

She wanted to remove it.

Which would mean . . .

It would mean . . . 

“You want to try for another baby?” I asked almost incredulously as the words sunk in.

She nodded slightly, her eyes showing her raging terror over the idea even as she agreed to it.

“You’d do that for me?” I asked stupidly.

She shook her head. “No, I’d do it for
us
; for all of us. For our family.”

I couldn’t help the wide, shit-eating grin that spread from ear to ear across my face. I was surprised at the intensity of the warmth that coursed throughout my body at her words. She wanted to try for another baby.

It was more than just the thought. Her agreement meant she truly believed I would be there for her.

She trusted me.

Even though she was scared of what could go wrong, she would do it. For us. It was a momentous fucking decision for her, and I was determined not to fuck it up.

“That would be . . . Wow . . . That would be fucking awesome. Are you sure about this though?”

“Are you?” she asked, throwing my question back at me, and I saw the faintest hint of doubt in her eyes. I realised that her primary fear may have been about what could go wrong, but there was a part of her that was scared of having to face it alone again.

I was the cause of that fear, and it was my responsibility to erase it. Her trust wasn’t absolute, but she wanted it to be.

“Absolutely positive. But maybe we should wait until after the race so we have plenty of time to practise.” I winked at her. “And then we’ll talk about it some more.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: QUALIFIED

BEFORE I KNEW it, it was time.

All of our preparation and all of the stress came down to one event, one weekend, and ultimately to one race.

We travelled to Bathurst on Tuesday, arriving a little after lunch, and set up amongst the other teams. We didn’t stand out or draw any excess attention, which was good because it made us feel like we belonged. It felt a little strange arriving so early for a meet, but it was necessary. All the things that Danny and the other office staff had always organised at Sinclair Racing, I now had to do for myself. Things like getting the car scrutineered before the race-meet, having the documents checked, and arranging for Morgan to attend the team managers’ briefing.

The other thing I had set up, without Alyssa’s knowledge, was that she was never to be left alone. If I wasn’t with her, she would be with Mum or Morgan. My boys were keeping an extra eye out for her and Phoebe when they could and even Eden, despite being in the Sinclair Racing shed, had also agreed to watch out for Alyssa. I felt safe in the knowledge that Hunter wouldn’t be able to get within one hundred metres of my girls without my knowledge, and that made me feel better about the weekend.

I spent all morning Thursday going over the finer details of the car. It had come to us in pristine condition from Sinclair Racing, but we needed to ensure it was prepped and ready for dealing with the pressure of Bathurst. My boys and I ran through the majority of the checks on the car and we even managed to drag Liam down from the Sinclair Racing sheds to cast his eye over it. We used the excuse that it had to be good for a few extra hours of time against our apprenticeships. He laughed at our cheek, but agreed nonetheless.

Dane and I had already agreed that I would take the first practise session. Not that I needed it any more than him—we were both as fucking rusty as the other—but because I was the one who’d hatched the grand plan, it was my money and reputation on the line, therefore it was only fitting that I was the one to take the V8 out for her first run.

It took me a moment or two to get used to the car. I noticed a few things in my first lap. For example, I had to brake much earlier than I did in the Mini—I realised that very quickly when I took my first corner much too fast and almost ended the weekend long before it had even started.

In exchange, I could accelerate out of the corners faster, which came in handy, although it meant I had to be in the correct racing position that much earlier.

After a lap or two though, I’d found my groove again. My fingers danced across the steering wheel almost as if they’d never been parted from it. My hand jerked through the gears with practised precision. Up. Down. Clutch. Accelerator. Brake. It was a familiar dance with a favourite partner.

Hard to the left, rein in the car with the brakes, and then accelerate hard up Mountain Straight. Hard to the right, roar through the cutting and Reid Park before racing past McPhillamy and into Skyline.

Despite the year that had passed since my last time around this track at this speed, I’d not forgotten the view as I neared the top of the mountain. I took one quick look to calm me, and then I focused back on the car and feeling the way it responded to my touch as I fell through the S bends and into the Dipper. I barely braked for the soft right then jumped down on the pedal before the hard left around Forrest Elbow.

I hit the accelerator hard the moment I was free, and was zooming down Conrod Straight in next to no time.

I couldn’t force the smile off my face the whole way around the track. Morgan’s voice squawked over my radio regularly, letting me know how the car looked from the outside.

As we got further into the session, I couldn’t help having a little fun and ribbing him in reply, telling him that his fiancée’s voice was much sweeter in my ears.

When I came in, there was a fifteen-minute window for me to brief Dane about the car, and then I was sitting on the edge of the track watching him drive my money—my family’s future—around the track. I finally knew how Danny felt every time I had taken to the track, especially in that last six months.

I probably owed him another apology.

Or six.

“WE’RE GETTING great times,” Morgan enthused, reading the in-car telemetry reports together with the official lap times.

“And without getting a single scratch on the car,” Alyssa said, winking at me.

I grinned.

“Great job today, everyone!” Dane enthused. It was clear he’d missed being on the track more than he probably ever admitted to himself. After all, he’d retired on his terms—while he was in front. He definitely wasn’t past his prime. In fact, some of the current drivers had at least ten years on him. Not to mention he was pumping out lap times that easily matched my own, and were pretty darn close to being on par with the forerunners in the race.

I couldn’t help but grin at him too. I considered myself to be lucky to have scored him in my car, despite his being retired.

“Speaking of which,” Alyssa murmured before continuing much louder, “whatever result we get in qualifying tomorrow, we’re having a team dinner to celebrate. After all, we’re here. We’re at Bathurst.”

A round of cheers broke out among our motley crew.

“Our shout, of course,” Alyssa continued. “To say thank you to all of you for the hard work you’ve put in to get us here.”

A little while later, we’d broken up for the night, each heading off to do our own thing, ready to reconvene early Friday morning. Alyssa instructed me that because there was nothing more I could do to organise or plan, I wasn’t allowed to stress about anything else. She and Mum had apparently been busy arranging dinner and they’d somehow managed to organise a roast in the shit-arse tiny little caravan oven. The women in my life never ceased to amaze me.

Midway through our meal, Morgan arrived to talk strategy.

“Sure, man.” I laughed. “As if you didn’t just smell this fuck-awesome meal and want to join in.”

Alyssa slapped my arm lightly. “Language,” she hissed quietly, shooting a pointed look at Phoebe.

I shot her a smirk in the form of an apology and helped myself to another serve of potatoes. I told myself it was because I needed to carbo-load, but the truth was they were just that fucking delicious that I couldn’t get enough of them. I’d forgotten how great Mum’s home cooking was.

Alyssa had more manners than I did and invited Morgan to join us. I think he thought about it for all of two seconds before accepting. We ran through our race plan once more, based on the information given in the drivers’ briefing, but then the conversation flowed naturally on to other things; like my plans for his bucks’ party.

Alyssa and Eden had already vetoed any plans for us to strip at Eden’s hen night. Instead, I was planning something special for Morgan, and he was going crazy not knowing what it was. I saw Alyssa giving me a knowing smile, because, well, she did know what it was.

Eden had already roped Alyssa into helping to organise the wedding because Alyssa was her closest female friend. I think that made her the matron of honour or some shit, but I tended to go into a bit of a trance when the girls started talking about wedding garbage. I’d been there, done that, and never had to go through it again, so it was all wasted information for me.

After dinner, Eden came in search of Morgan, so we invited her in to stay for a while too.

The conversation was easy and the night held no stress. I wondered whether Alyssa had planned it that way, but I had no way of knowing for sure. All I knew was that by the time Eden and Morgan left and Phoebe was in bed, I’d had no time to panic about what might happen the next day, which was a good thing.

I needed to stay out of my own head in order to stay sane.

Alyssa invited me to go for a walk in the evening air. Never one to miss an opportunity for some alone time with my wife, I agreed readily. We grabbed our jumpers and headed out into the dark.

I wrapped my arm around Alyssa’s shoulders as we wandered aimlessly around the campsite. A number of people recognised me, some shouted out in support, others gave a call of gentle ribbing—clearly they were Ford fans—and a few even came up to ask for my autograph.

“I wanna be able to say I was there to witness your triumphant return,” one bloke said to me as I signed his shirt.

Just as she had so long ago when I’d been swamped at Dreamworld, Alyssa stood back and took it all in stride. I remembered what she had pointed out to me then—that my messy little pen marks made people happy. It definitely made the idea of autograph hounds seem less predatory and actually made me relax and enjoy the process a little more. These people cared whether I drove or not. It mattered to them, which made it matter all the more to me.

Eventually, our walk took us out of the more crowded areas, and we were able to find some alone time.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done to get me here,” I murmured as I pulled her closer to me.

She rested her head against my chest. “I’ve actually really enjoyed doing it. More than I ever thought possible. Thank you for giving me the push I needed to do it.”

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. I’m sure getting the opportunity to boss me around helps.” I chuckled.

“Oh, definitely.” She laughed. “That’s the best perk.”

I guided her chin up so she was looking at me. “You can order me around some more right now if you like,” I murmured, with more than a hint of lust in my voice.

She whimpered softly as I captured her mouth, effectively stopping her from being able to issue any orders. My tongue explored the now-familiar confines of her mouth. Despite having incredibly intimate knowledge of her body and soul, I was always willing to explore some more.

After we’d broken apart for some oxygen, I rested my forehead against hers. “It’s a dream come true.”

“All this?” She indicated the camping ground and track behind us.

“No, you. Well, you and Phoebe. My life now. Just all of it. This . . .” I grinned at her and inclined my head in the direction she’d indicated. “This is just the icing on the cake.”

“I love you, Declan,” she said. As if there were any doubt.

“I love you too, baby.”

I kissed her again, and she shivered against me. As much as I would have loved to strip her down and fuck her silly while we had time alone and without any other pressing matters, I knew it was too cold for me to do that.

FRIDAY MORNING passed in much the same fashion as Thursday had. A few more tweaks, a little fine-tuning and driving around the track with the utmost care. Alyssa schmoozed with the sponsors a little and we all had plenty of team photos taken.

Despite not being part of the official Sinclair Racing outfit, there always seemed to be at least one member of their staff hanging around in our pits. More often than not, it was Eden, but once or twice it was Liam or Mia.

Finally, it was Friday afternoon and it was time for the qualifying laps. During the practise sessions, I’d been relatively easy on the car, testing the waters so to speak, but for qualifying I had to go out as if I were under race conditions. I had to work out what my best was, and then go one better.

I slid the HANS device over my head before placing my helmet on over the top. The butterflies in my stomach were dive-bombing around as I climbed into the car. I closed my eyes for a tiny moment. As much as I had enjoyed wielding a wrench for Liam, it was nothing compared to the feeling of euphoria that was building within me, knowing that I was moments away from changing my life. I put the netting up on the window and gripped the steering wheel tightly. I pulled the straps on the racing harness tight, and was utterly unable to help the fact that I was grinning like a schoolboy.

Once Morgan had called out the all-clear into his mic, I started the car. I hummed contently as I listened to the purr of the engine. My mouth was dry due to my anticipation, so I took a deep drag on my water line. Nothing could beat the feeling of being in control of a V8—well . . . almost nothing.

I thought back to early that day, to being with my girls as we prepared for the day at the track. Somewhere nearby, in the stands, they were watching, waiting for me to show the crowd that I was still able to do this. That despite rumours to the contrary, I wasn’t washed up. I revved the engine and the deep thrum that issued was like the sound of the gods.

I edged forward from my pit before taking my time to get to the end of pit lane. It didn’t matter when I hit the track. All that mattered was I had twenty minutes to qualify. Twenty minutes to get my beast around the track as fast as I could. Twenty minutes to justify the faith Danny was putting in me for this meet and the time and cost Alyssa and I had invested.

I tried not to remind myself that the last time I had driven a ProV8—really driven, under race conditions and not just for track days or the practice laps the day before—was at last year’s Bathurst.

As soon as I hit the end of pit lane, I slammed my foot to the floor and quickly made my way through the gears. I may have been a little rusty compared to how I’d once raced but at that moment, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was I was in a car again. I was
racing
again.