Make Me Stay II: A Second Chance Romance

by Avant, Amarie

  “Think!” Alexander placed a stiff finger to his own head. “I said I already had your DNA. Past tense. I keep telling you that you’re my family, Donavan, and you keep pushing me away. You declined the perks and amenities of my secret club, fine, for now.”

  “Fuck fine for now,” Donavan barked. “I don’t want shit to do with you if it doesn’t involve a wedding cake and flowers!”

  Alexander held up his hands, an attempt to show peace. “I’m waving the white flag here, get it? We both know I own the police department—many of them, actually—and the ones I do not personally own, I have associates, so they’re still on my radar, Donavan. Maxine’s body was found this morning by the local authorities who were attempting to escort her from the premises due to a foreclosure order. The type of death I wish you’d have done with my pal, Guilly, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosey.”

  “What happened? Who did it?” Donavan asked.

  “Local cops are lifting evidence off her. The diagnostics lab they use is my company. We will know who very soon.” Alexander started to back away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Oh, now you’d like to chat. You were done with me the second I set eyes on you. But I got what I needed the second I told you the bitch was dead.” He gestured to himself. “I’m a walking lie detector, Donnie boy. You didn’t do it. You knew nothing of it. But do you wanna be in the circle of trust now?”

  Donavan’s gaze wavered. He was stuck on the fact that Alexander Castle had his DNA. This could be a seize the moment opportunity for him.

  “Listen, I’ll keep you out of it as much as I can, but I’ll tell you one thing. Winters had pictures of my princess and me. She was being nosy.”

  Donavan bit his bottom lip in thought. “Keep me in the loop.”

  Donavan hoped he didn’t regret making this decision. The saying “keep your enemies closer” may have been golden, but in this scenario . . .he just didn’t know.

  55

  Avery

  A couple of days later, a fresh August rain drizzled down on the windshield of Jessica’s Honda Accord. Avery had offered to drive while they took the children out for back-to-school shopping, but Jess was getting around a lot more swiftly these days, all the while wrapped up like an Eskimo. Since their heart to heart about her health issues, Avery was understanding and appreciating Jessica more and more.

  A green thicket surrounded them once Jessica took the one lane road that led to Baudelaire. Their day seemed to be wearing down her shoulders.

  “You’re looking a lot better.” Avery encouraged.

  Jess clucked her teeth. “I hope it will last, what with this storm coming through.”

  Avery sucked in air. “Bahamas is getting it the worst.”

  Avery then glanced in the backseat where Maggie’s old baby car mirror reflected Anya in her rear facing car seat. The image of her was heartwarming as she sat like a golden turkey in the bright pink contraption placed between her brother and Maggie, who passed a cell phone over her. Each time they did, her chubby little paw reached out to grab it.

  “I need help with . . .” Maggie began holding out her phone.

  “Hey, you guys,” Avery said, “let’s be ready as soon as Jessica pulls up to get all of your stuff inside? Alright?”

  “Can I carry my baby sister?” Junior asked.

  “Certainly.” Avery turned as the car lurched to a stop and asked Jessica, “Do you want me to get the door?”

  “Not on your life, sweetie. I appreciate your efforts, but you’re treating me like an old maid today.” Jessica’s eyes smiled as she popped the trunk.

  Smiling to herself, Avery got out of the car, opening her umbrella. Maggie had her own, so Avery helped Junior with getting Anya out of the car. He cradled his sister’s head like he’d been taught, but Anya kept pushing herself away from him.

  Avery helped Maggie and Jessica grab more of the bags filled with new school clothes.

  “Let’s get inside. I’ll make tea. Maybe the rain will pass?”

  “I think so.” Jess nodded. “The real deal is expected tomorrow. We might have to cancel Sunday dinner, so, yes, I’d like that.”

  Avery’s eyes were on her as she spoke. Jessica grinned brightly. “Oh look, flowers.”

  Avery turned and noticed pink oleanders. The illustrious bunch was so thick, it wedged between the doorknobs of the double door. Avery dropped the Old Navy bag she was holding and stalked over to it. She yanked it up and grabbed the card.

  The note read: ‘To our blossoming friendship—H.’

  “Hunter,” she gritted.

  “Who is he?” Jessica asked.

  After retrieving the bag she dropped, Avery tucked the flowers under her arm and unlocked the door. Shock coursed through her veins and Avery jumped. “Sheriff, shit!”

  The pup went zipping outside to where Junior was headed up the stairs.

  “Dang it. I’ll never get used to him moving at the speed of light.” Avery huffed. “These flowers are from a creepy fucker that stayed here once.”

  Avery stalked through the house into the kitchen and slammed the flowers into the trashcan. Mumbling about how she regretted showing him kindness, she opened the cupboard and took out a teal colored kettle. When she went to sit down with Jessica, she noticed the pensive look on her face.

  “Are you okay?” Jessica asked.

  “Yes. I am trying to figure out if I should tell Donnie or just speak with the police first.” Because my soon-to-be husband is a hothead, and either he or my dad are bound to blow things out of proportion . . . way out of proportion.

  “I see. He loves you madly, Avery. Junior is quite the firecracker on the baseball field. I think he takes after his dad.” Jess pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, but that wind is picking up. I really should be going. Otherwise, I’d stay until he’s home. Are you afraid of the guy? Or is he a harmless fruitcake?”

  Avery laughed a little. “We’ll be alright.”

  After Jess and Maggie left, Junior put his clothing away while Avery breastfed Anya. Her chubby little doll fell asleep during burping. Avery found her son in his room, placing the khaki pants he just got into a drawer. She shook her head, knowing that she’d have to straighten a few clothes later.

  Before Avery could tap his shoulder, Junior pivoted on his feet, grabbing his Marvel comic pillow. He had it over his head and ready to toss.

  “Sorry, thought you were Dad,” he said.

  She chuckled, plucking up another Black Panther pillow and whacked him across his shoulder. “That’s what happens when you try to attack your mom.”

  He smiled. “Are you scared about those flowers you got, Mom?”

  “No, what made you say that? And no shrugging . . .” She uttered quickly, just as his shoulder’s began to lift.

  “Uh, the way you and Jess talked about it. I didn’t think you’d have a bully.”

  “Hey.” Avery’s eyes brightened. “Bullies come in all shapes and sizes, but we have nothing to fear. That makes me think, I do have a person who isn’t Team AC. Can you help me with her?”

  His thick, unruly eyebrows rose. Avery took his hands in hers.

  “You know how you were bullied at school? I’d like for us to do our own little chat on Instagram, letting the world know how we have decided to not let what anyone says hurt us. We’re going to Empower—”

  “Empower?” He mumbled curiously.

  “Yes. Son, we’re going to take back our authority over our bodies, and what we plan to do. I’m not having the cochlear implant because someone scared me into it. You’re not interested in hearing because some little ass—”

  “Mom.”

  “What? We won’t cuss on social media, baby.” She laughed. “Well, I will censor myself as best as I can, Donavan Junior. You don’t cuss. What do you think of that?”

  His shoulders squared with the confident aura that always surrounded him while in his baseball uniform. “I like it.”

  Rain thrashed the w
indow panes. Avery felt the vibrations. When Donavan came home, she was at the hearth in the sitting room. A fire was ablaze. A tension clung to his shoulders as she took him upstairs and helped him out of his wet clothes.

  “Donnie, I need to talk with you about . . .” She began, pulling the slick hoodie over his head. She wanted to tell him about how she and Junior had addressed Maxine Winters and his bullies online—without personally identifying them, and how it had been truly empowering. Though she was excited to show Donavan how many positive responses she and Junior had received, it was imperative to tell him about Hunter first. But the moment she got the hoodie free from his hands, he was already stalking toward the bathroom.

  He turned around long enough to sign, “Babe, can it wait?”

  “Is something wrong?” An uncomfortable feeling crept over her. Was she bothering him?

  “No, no.” He stopped tugging at his belt. “You know I don’t like my jeans clinging to me. Just let me get a shower, and I’ll meet you by the fire.”

  Though he smiled, her own attempt faltered. “Ha, Anya slept most of the day, so no fireplace romance for you.” She tossed her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll just check on the chili.”

  Donavan closed the bathroom door. Avery picked up his hoodie from the floor. Just as she opened the closet and took the lid from the wicker basket, her palms felt a vibration and she pulled out an iPhone. She blinked a few times. Apple came out with new phones left to right, and while they had upgraded during the holiday season, this sure as heck wasn’t it. This was an advancement from their cell phone promotion.

  Wrath not only reflected but radiated as she stared at the black screen. And only facial recognition would allow her to see any further. She composed herself. “Okay, maybe he found it while out today?” It’s a good thing I can’t hear myself sound like an idiot.

  Heading back toward the bathroom, a plume of mist met her as she walked inside. Donavan opened the fogged shower glass. The shock on his face when he saw the phone was priceless.

  56

  Donavan

  Fuck me! The words hammered in his brain. Green had picked up the phone, guns, and other defense items he’d used over the past few months while working for Alexander before their leave for Disney World last month. Today, when he’d parted ways with his enemy, Alexander, he’d been reminded that the phone could not be traced nor tapped. There was DNA on the body, and they needed to know whose to make sure that neither of them was being targeted.

  “It’s not what you think,” he said.

  “Tsk, that actually sounds like cheater words. How about this? You can sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. I hope you’re nice and comfy with your cell phone, Donnie. I’ll be telling my dad he can forget us attending that black-and-white gala next week as well because of this.” She said placed the phone on the counter. “It has his name written all over it. So, that’s why the two of you shook hands on the Fourth, huh? Pretended to end your bromance? Well, I . . . I won’t see anything bad happen to . . .”

  She stopped ranting. Her voice broke. Her worried thoughts of something bad happening to him, were so thick, so tangible that he could feel it through the mist. She placed the phone on the counter and walked out. He felt like shouting to the high heavens for her to get her ass back in here, so they could talk, but what was the use?

  The next morning, Donavan sat in the bedroom opposite his son’s. His muscles were stiff. He walked to the master suite. His palm gripped the doorknob; it gave no slack. Cursing under his breath, he placed his hands on top of his head. He glanced into the nursery, but Anya had definitely slept with Avery.

  He walked past a crystal vase of pink oleanders, wondering why Avery would put them out since lavender were her favorite. In the kitchen, he flipped on the lights, but they didn’t come on.

  “Shit,” he grumbled again, opening the blinds to let in the gloomy, rainy day. The weak sunlight seeped across the modern and antique appliances. Donavan went into the pantry and grabbed the box with the gas hotplate that they kept for these types of situations, took it out, and began to set it on the center of the island so that it was safely away from everything else.

  With the scent of pancakes wafting through the air, Donavan heard his son’s heavy steps as he came downstairs and the soft scratch of Sheriff’s paws, reminding him that the pup needed his toenails clipped. Junior appeared in Marvel long sleeve pajamas.

  “Your mom up yet?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Was the bedroom door closed?” Donavan bit his lip, hating that he was in the position to ask his son questions.

  “No. It was open.”

  Donavan hustled back up the stairs and into their bedroom. Anya was in the co-sleeper on his side of the bed. He found Avery in the bathroom brushing her teeth.

  “So, you lock me out? The silent treatment not good enough for you this time?”

  “Lock you out?” Her eyebrows furrowed, and then her gaze darkened. “Let’s talk about whose locking who out, Donnie! I know my dad just wreaks havoc and chaos wherever he goes, and he forces people to compromise to his ways. So, what exactly are you doing for him? How are you making this world a better place for him to live in?”

  He waved her off and started out.

  “You have nothing to say?”

  He stopped and turned around, grabbing her arms and yanking her to his chest. She stumbled, and he held the brunt of her weight. In a hushed, irritable tone, he growled, “I’m not arguing with you today.”

  “We used to tell each other everything, Donnie.” Her eyes flooded, and tears sloshed down her warm brown cheeks.

  “You have only one option. Trust me because you’re my woman, and I love you. So, let me do what needs to be done.”

  Avery licked the salted tears on her mouth. “I’m sorry. Because I can’t see something bad happen to you, Donavan. And obviously, you’re doing something too shameful to tell me. Just say yes or no, and I’ll stop running my mouth.”

  “Okay, yes.” He walked out of the room, unable to stand the sight of her crying.

  * * *

  Donavan sat at the table with Anya in his lap, an arm around her and his opposite hand digging into a stack of pancakes. Junior was across from him, holding bacon underneath the table for Sheriff to have a bite.

  “Son, if you eat after that dog,” Donavan warned, tone grave.

  Junior’s eyes brightened. “But can I have another piece?”

  He nodded. Junior plucked two off the communal plate at the center of the table and chatted about how he’d checked a post this morning that had over 5,000 likes, 20,0000 hearts and—

  “What post?” Donavan stared at him intently.

  “Mom and I addressed our haters.”

  “Oh, wow?” He put his fork down, disappointed in himself for not being in the moment with his family last night.

  “We posted a video to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. It’s been shared, tweeted, everything, Dad! We talked about how Mom agreed to hear because I’m afraid of doing it by myself.”

  Bouncing Anya slowly on his knee, Donavan listened intently to how his son felt about the multitude of responses they’d received.

  “I feel stronger and . . . and empowered.”

  He grinned. “I’m so proud of you, Junior.”

  Donavan forked up more food as Junior continued to talk about the short video they had posted online. Anya reached out for his bite of pancake. He apologized to her while blowing raspberries on her neck, which usually made her laugh. Instead, she began to cry.

  “Honey bun, when are you going to eat real food?” he asked her, knowing that the moment she smelled food she had to eat too. “When you start teething, Daddy’s gonna make you mashed potatoes and—”

  “Pancakes?” Junior’s eyes lit up.

  “I think we’ll have to work our way up to pancakes.”

  “Spaghetti?”

  He chuckled. “Son, can’t nobody in this world take a bowl of spaghetti from you.”r />
  Avery stood at the archway. “I knew she’d be hungry.”

  She took the child from Donavan’s hands. He grabbed her arm. “You have to be hungry?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Donavan.” There wasn’t the normal inflection of anger in her voice that he’d become accustomed to last month while they were feuding.

  “Can you just trust me?”

  Avery turned away and went back upstairs, talking to Anya about milk.

  “Hey, buddy,” Donavan addressed his son. “We need to get this house locked down. Can you help me with the shutters?”

  About thirty minutes later, wind started thumping against the windows. The windows downstairs were locked. They started up the stairs, and Donavan could hear the storm picking up. Sheriff jetted up the steps faster than they ever could. Donavan stopped Junior at his room.

  “I’ll lock up my room now,” Junior said with a sly grin.

  “Okay, Son. Just because that wind outside will toss you upside your head, doesn’t mean that I want you playing videogames all day. Got that?”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  Across the long hallway, he noticed Avery seated in the nursery in a rocker. There was a book in her hand, and Anya’s bright were eyes wide. She pawed at all the colorful pages.

  “Actually, your mom and I need to have a talk. Want to watch your litter sister?”

  Junior nodded with a smile. They headed across the navy-blue runner. Donavan signed for Avery to come to him. She put Anya in the crib, and Junior grabbed her favorite stuffed elephant from where it fell by the rocking chair.

  Donavan and Avery headed into their bedroom, closing the door behind them.

  “We’re doing things wrong, Donavan.” She said, sitting on the chaise, head in her hands. “This isn’t easy.”