Declan Read Online Free PDF Page A

greet me. I’m a little shocked when she opens the door; she looks to have aged years since I last saw her. Her short hair looks lank and un-brushed, which is something I’ve never seen. Georgia always has been shit hot about taking care of her appearance. She has dark circles under her eyes, and if I’m not mistaken the shadow of a bruise around her eye which she’s tried to disguise with makeup.
    “Hi, Declan.” There’s little warmth in her greeting. She pauses to check over her shoulder. “It’s not a good time right now.” She explains apologetically.
    “I said tell them to fuck off.” Max shouts again from the lounge. Georgia draws in a breath as though to steel herself.
    “But it’s Declan.” She answers back cheerfully. “Surely you want to see him?” She sounds defeated. I don’t give Max chance to answer as I gently push Georgia aside and head into the lounge.
    Max, to put it simply, looks like shit. He’s unshaven, there are food stains on his t-shirt that is hanging too loose on him, and you can barely see his leg for the metal framework full of screws that are holding it together. The wounds around the screws look red and angry and his leg is grey against the coffee table that he has it propped up on. He gives me a dirty look as I get closer.
    “I said fuck off. I don’t want visitors.” Max mutters, taking another mouthful from the neck of the bottle of whisky clutched in his hand. It’s only ten am and he’s already three sheets to the wind. I look around for Georgia expecting her to have followed me into the room, but there’s no sign of her.
    “Well I’m here now so I might as well stay.” I grin at Max. It’s not returned. Instead I receive a steely and very unfriendly glare. It’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a stranger. I know Max can be a moody bugger, but this is different. I know I’m hardly one to say anything as I was in my own whisky stupor last week, but this isn’t good. “I’ll go round up some coffee for us.” I offer, heading off to the kitchen. I’ve been here enough times to know the layout of the place. As I pass the study I see it’s been converted to a makeshift bedroom, knowing Max as I do he’ll hate that.
    Georgia is sitting at the kitchen worktop, her head in her hands and crying silent tears. She flinches when I put my hand on her arm to get her attention. Confused I lift the arm of her t-shirt a little to find a livid purple bruise in the shape of a hand.
    “Don’t judge him.” She whispers. “He’s just having a hard time.” She pleads. I ball my hands into fists at the sight of the bruises.
    “I don’t care how fucking hard a time he’s having.” I growl. “That doesn’t give him the right to hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me?” I obviously raise my voice a little too much as she flinches back from me. “I’m sorry, Georgia, but I thought we were friends. You should have called me.” I want to pull her into my arms and comfort her, but the way she’s holding herself tells me that wouldn’t be a good idea. I suspect the bruises on her arms aren’t the only ones.
    She moves slowly, and I can now see painfully, across the kitchen to fill the coffee maker. Gently I take it from her, gesturing for her to return to her seat at the counter. Whilst I’m prepping the coffee I ask her what the hell’s been happening.
    “He’s in so much pain, the pain meds aren’t helping, and they’re still not sure he’ll be able to keep his leg.” Her shoulders sag even further. “We’re going to have to sell the house, they’ve told him even if he does keep his leg he’ll never be able to handle the stairs properly and he refuses to get a stair lift.” She looks around the kitchen. This house was her pride and joy, her dream home. Now she’s going to lose it.
    “Surely there’s something they can do?” Even as I say the words, I know there obviously isn’t. The Army has the best doctors, if they say it can’t be fixed, then