Free Wholehearted by Cate Ashwood

coming home from the hospital. More than that, though, he was afraid of what Lucas’s reaction would be, and worst of all, that Lucas would leave, not wanting to be around Declan once he found out.
     
     
    T HE NEXT morning, Declan woke up feeling content and refreshed. It felt nice to be able to stay home and not drive into Ellsworth to the hospital. It was nice knowing that Lucas was safe and healthy only a few rooms away. He liked knowing that the guy was so close. He made coffee and sat at the kitchen table reading the paper.
    A while later, Lucas emerged from his room, his hair still a mess, stubble covering his jaw, and his eyes even more red than the day before. He looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
    “How are you feeling today?” Declan asked.
    “Fine,” Lucas replied.
    “How’s the pain? Are you still taking the meds?”
    “It’s fine. No. I haven’t taken any.”
    “Do you need any?”
    “Nope.”
    “Okay….” What a delightful conversationalist, thought Declan. He wondered if the attitude was going to remain this cold and distant the entire time he stayed. It would be a long six weeks if that were the case.
    “I have to go into the office for a bit today, and I have some running around to do. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay here?”
    “Why would I come with you?”
    “I dunno, I just thought maybe you would want to get out of the house for a bit. Hope Cove is pretty small. You could walk around while I’m finishing up some paperwork from last week, and then we could meet up and have lunch at the diner.”
    “No thanks.”
    “Okay, whatever you want to do. If you change your mind, let me know.”
    “I won’t,” Lucas said brusquely as he grabbed a section of the paper and started reading, shutting Declan out.
    “All right.”
    Declan was already getting pretty sick of the attitude, and it had only been one day.
    “I’m going to hop in the shower. Do you need anything before I do?”
    “Nope.”

Chapter 8

     
    W HEN D ECLAN arrived at the station, he walked straight to his desk. He slumped down in his ergonomically designed chair and surveyed the room. Everything looked exactly the same. The same cluttered desks, the same terrible lighting, the same greyish-white wall color and drab blue linoleum. His desk was the same, meticulously organized and clutter free. He wasn’t sure how the other deputies were able to find anything on the messes they called their workstations, but to each his own.
    He pulled the file on Lucas’s attack from the folder organizer in the top left corner and opened it to the first page. Nothing had magically appeared since he looked at it two days earlier. There in bright and vivid color were the photos of the crime scene and of Lucas’s battered body. Additional photos had been taken at the hospital after the blood had been cleaned off, and the sight of it still turned Declan’s stomach.
    Other than the statement Declan had given to Mack at the hospital, there were very few details in the remainder of the file. There was a report from the doctor, which didn’t hold anything Declan didn’t already know. There was no physical evidence found at the scene, no weapon, and no witnesses.
    It was infuriating that there were no leads to follow up on, and the only person that could help him had seemed unlikely to do so.
    Mack walked out of his office and crossed the main room to Declan’s desk. He leaned against the side and crossed his arms. “Still working on the Hale case?”
    Declan nodded and leaned back in his chair, tiling to look at Mack. “Yeah, but there hasn’t been any progress at all. It’s so frustrating. I don’t know where to go from here.”
    “How’s he doing?”
    “He’s better. The surgery went well, and he seems to be healing up nicely. The hospital discharged him yesterday.”
    “And now he’s living at your house.”
    Declan’s eyebrows went up before he realized. “Oliver. Oliver told you.”
    “Of