CHAPTER 24
Declan
I sit at my new desk, in my new office, in the same fucking chair Miles sat in for years. My new secretary asked me if she should order a new one. But getting rid of it, I don’t know, as bizarre as it sounds, it’s like getting rid of Miles.
He’s taken another turn for the worse. Evan has come forward with new technology his company developed to try and help, and is using his clout to push through the red tape and allow Miles a trial run. I’m not sure if it’s too little too late. But if it is, I want to hang onto any part of Miles that remains and do the best job I can as long as I sit in this chair.
I met with the press about Iker Escobar’s apprehension like a good D.A., said all the right things, and left the podium to rousing applause. The court dates are set and my prep for this case is going smoothly. But nothing feels right. Rosana is still gone. I can’t bring her back.
Just like I can’t bring back Melissa.
I walked into Mel’s office the day after all the shit went down. She was already long gone, nothing of her left in that office except maybe the lingering scent of her perfume.
Her replacement was getting comfortable at her desk like she planned to stay. “Hi, D.A. O’Brien,” the leggy blonde said to me. Julia, I think that’s her name. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
That made one of us.
I’ve called Mel several times, each time I’m sent through to her voicemail. She hasn’t returned my calls or texts. The only good thing I can say is that she hasn’t blocked me, yet. But she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to me. I tried stopping by her place a few times, but she’s never there when I swing by. As sick as Miles is, I can’t show up there if it’s going to lead to us fighting again.
You might say I’ve given up. That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten her, and it as sure as hell doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving her. Nothing is the same without her. Nothing. Just like it was the last time we were apart.
I hit the speaker when my office phone rings. “Yes?”
“District Attorney O’Brien, there’s a young man here to see you, claiming to be your brother.”
A familiar laugh echoes through the speaker. “I’m not claiming, I just am, lady. Although you should let him know which one. Can I borrow that a sec? Thanks.” Finn’s voice amplifies and there’s some rustling. I can almost picture him lifting the phone out of poor Tasha’s hand, his grin probably the only thing keeping her from screaming for help. “Hey, Deck. It’s your little brother—the good-looking one, the one with the ginger hair you wish you had and a set of abs his woman can’t stop touching.” He pauses. “You know, Finn.”
Despite my mood, I can’t help my chuckle. “Give Tasha back her phone and come in, Finnie.”
I lean back in my chair, resting my hands behind my head. Finn opens the door and steps in. He looks around. “Nice,” he says.
I don’t have to tell him to take a seat, he just does, plopping down in front of me. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Oh, Aileen let me in,” he says, motioning to the closed door. “You know, the receptionist out front.”
“I know who she is.” I frown, letting my hands drop. “How does she know who you are?” Hell, even the people who work here can’t get past Aileen without the proper I.D.
“She knows me on account of all those times I’ve stopped in to see Melissa.” He shrugs. “She told me Melissa is out on leave. I figured since I was already here, I’d see you instead.”
“You come here to see Melissa?” I ask. He nods. “Since when?”
“Since I got in trouble that last time. She’s nice. Sometimes though I just call and check in.”
Why did I not know this? “You’ve been calling my girlfriend?”
“Don’t you mean ex?” he asks. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you fucked that one up, didn’t you?”
“Shut up,” I tell him, flatly. “You don’t know a damn thing.”
“I know she’s easy to talk to. I know you were happier when you were with her, and I sure as shit know you cared about her.”
Care. Yeah. That’s putting it mildly.
My face warms and I’m ready to tell Finn he can’t put this all on me. That I’m not the only one to blame. But I don’t know anymore. Not with how I’m feeling.
I rub my face. “When was the last time you talked to her?” I ask. “And how did you start calling her to begin with?” The trouble Finn was in made him a defendant, not a victim. But Mel didn’t treat him that way. It shouldn’t surprise me, being who she is. But it does.
Finn looks at me closely, like he’s trying to get a fix on me. “It’s been a while since we talked, and long before Thanksgiving, you know, the first time you fucked up.” He grins at my narrowing stare. “When I first got in trouble, she told me if I ever needed to talk, to call her and she’d be there for me.” He shrugs. “So I did and she was.”
When I don’t respond, he shakes his head. “Shit, Declan. You finally meet someone actually worth spending time with, and just like that you let her go.” He huffs. “Dumbass.”
“It wasn’t just like that,” I say, my temper rising.
“Wasn’t it?” He leans forward. “You know what Wren recently said about you?”
I slump in my seat. “No, but I can’t wait to hear it.”
“That you’re the shepherd in the family.”
“The shepherd?” I ask.
“You know,” he says. “The guy with the big stick.”
“I know what a shepherd is,” I say. “But what the fuck does that mean?”
He glances down at the industrial strength carpet. “No, that can’t be right.”
“Good, because it sounds—”
He perks up. “You’re the sheepdog,” he says, pointing. “That was it, which makes total sense cause you’re acting like a little bitch.”
“What the hell, Finn?”
“Hear me out.” He holds his hands out, like what he has to say is important, but can’t remember exactly what it is. “We’re the flock, the seven of us with Ma. Yeah, that’s it. So we’re in the field, eating grass, playing with the cows, and jumping over fences and some shit, you hear what I’m saying?”
“I hear it,” I admit. “I just don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
He ignores me, speaking fast like he’s onto something. “But it’s like, all this time you’ve been biting our heels, barking out orders, keeping us in line, and being a dog, you forgot to look at the rest of the pasture.”
“The pasture?” I ask slowly.
“Yeah. And it turns out there’s like this whole farm.”
“With a barn full of crazy?” I offer.
He brushes the comment aside. “No, with like other pastures. And in one of those other pastures there’s another sheepdog, looking out for the flocks of ducks.”
I just blink back at him.
“Melissa,” he says, like I’m the stupid one. “Melissa is the other sheepdog. The one who looked after you, took care of you, even though she was still looking after the chickens, ducks, and goats.” He leans in. “She was the sheepdog you needed, the one you shared your bed with, the one you introduced your flock to, the one who showed you how good the rest of the pasture is and everything you weren’t seeing on that farm.” He makes a face. “Believe it or not, it sounded good when Wren said it.”
“Are you trying to tell me Melissa showed me everything I missed out on? That where I looked out for everyone, I didn’t look out for myself as I should have—in the way that mattered most?”
“Close enough.” He smirks. “Oh, and that maybe you should have puppies.”
He’s trying to tell me I shouldn’t let her get away.
And he’s right.