Surviving Home | Completed

Chapter Thirteen

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Declan chuckled. Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the phone call. "Hello, stranger," said the delicate voice from the other side.

"I was just thinking about you," he responded, tiredness hitting him. "It's been a long few days." Declan sat on the bench outside his office, stretching his body as far as it would go, in hopes of loosening all the tense muscles that had formed from his recent stress.

"I saw. Everybody did. It's all over the news. Are you sure you should be sitting outside right now? You could have paparazzi coming in soon," the voice repeated.

"And, just how might you know that I am sitting outside? Are you spying on me?" Declan said, humorously.

"Of course, don't you know, I have eyes on you at all times. The necklace I got you for your birthday has a tracker and a camera on it. I know what you're up to at all times, even when you poop," came a laugh.

"You're gross!" Declan groaned.

"OF course not, genius! I can hear the birds and cars. As soon as I saw the news, I knew you would head to LA. Since it's a Sunday, there wouldn't be anyone in the office. So, if I can hear sounds in the background which don't belong to people, it tells me that you're sitting somewhere outside. My guess is the part bench right outside the LA office." Declan grinned. He was speaking to the only reason that would pull him back to New York.

"But, really, how are you doing?" Clarisa's voice turned soft, as if scared that any other tone would startle Declan.

"You saw the news. I'm sure you guessed what happened."

"That's not what I asked, Dec," Clarisa replied.

"I honestly don't know how I feel, other than tired. I could really go for a long shower and then hibernate for the next six months. It's been a stressful few days," Declan exclaimed before proceeded to fill her in on everything that had happened since he came to his family home. Clarisa listened patiently and quietly over the next hour. She could see the positive affect it had on Declan, being with his family. Declan was good in a crisis and having so many people around meant that there was always going to be some crisis or the other. As close as Clarisa and Declan were, they usually seemed to communicate in expressions. This was the first time that Clarisa had heard Declan speak at length. She didn't want him to stop. She loved his voice and loved it even more how lovingly he spoke about his family. Whatever he may say, she knew that he missed them. She also knew, from the way that they were speaking, that the longer he stayed there, the more difficult it would be for him to come back to New York. She was about to lose her best friend, she knew, but she didn't dare voice the thought out loud. So, instead, she said, "So, what's going to happen to the wedding now?" causing Declan to groan. He forgot, momentarily, that there was another crisis at home that they had to solve.

He hung up the call with Clarisa soon after, and got into the car, letting Amelia know that he was leaving. She had everything handled, so he wasn't worried about anything other than getting home right now. It was already 3pm by the time he left LA. He had no idea how long it was going to take him to get back home, and he honestly didn't care. He was too tired, and the longer it took them to get home, the longer he could sleep. His driven stopped at a drive-thru to get him some food, well aware that he hadn't eaten since he got to LA. Declan graciously took the food, devouring it in minutes, before he stretched his body across the width of the car, his legs folded, and drifted off to sleep.

When Declan awoke from his nap, it was dark outside. Looking at his watch, he realized it was past midnight. "How bad was the traffic!" he exclaimed at his driver. "Not bad at all, really. But you were fast asleep and seemed like you could do with the sleep. I didn't want to disturb you, so I just drove around. "For 9 hours?" Declan was shocked.