by Kim Loraine
Heart in his throat, he pressed Send.
Chapter 8
Valerie blinked past hot tears as she opened the text message from Donovan. Just seeing his name on the screen made her stomach clench with longing and worry. The moment she read the words, she almost went to him.
I’m at the station, missing you, loving you, needing you.
A sob escaped from deep in her chest as she read the message again and again, hearing his voice in her head. She wanted to ignore the text or to beg him to come home, but in the end, she couldn’t do either. Dialing his number, she gave in to her desire to hear his rich, deep voice.
He answered on the first ring.
“Sweetheart.” The relief in his tone made her chest feel like it was going to explode. “Jesus, I’m so sorry.”
She wanted nothing more than to accept his apology and be done with it. But his actions, the fear she saw in his eyes every time he tried to touch her, made her realize more than anything that he needed to work past his demons. She couldn’t do that for him.
“Valerie? Are you there?”
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she took a steadying breath and forced her voice to work. “I’m here. I . . . I needed to hear your voice.”
“Why are you doing this? If you need me as much as I need you, why am I not with you?”
“Because.”
She didn’t know how to say it.
“Dammit, Valerie. Because isn’t an answer.”
“Because you think you’d hurt me. I can see it. You’re afraid of yourself, and you’ll run any time we argue. I can’t trust you to stick around.”
His sigh over the line was filled with heaviness and frustration. “That’s only because you flinch every time I try to touch you.”
“I . . .” She couldn’t deny his words. She did flinch, but not out of fear of him. “I told you. If you’d touched me, I would have given in, and that’s not what you need.”
“Would you stop telling me what I fucking need?”
“You know what? This isn’t about you alone. It’s about us. So I’ll tell you what you need if it’s the difference between saving us and tearing us apart.”
“When did you become my damn mother?”
Her breath caught in her throat at the venom in his voice and the magnitude of his words. A bitter laugh fell from her lips. “I’m no one’s mother. Remember?”
“Well, whose fault is that?”
Pain stabbed her in the gut. “Fuck you, Donovan. I made a mistake calling you, thinking we could talk about this. Don’t bother trying to come back. I’ll leave the rest of your shit outside on the curb. I don’t want anything to do with you. Not anymore.”
He started talking, she could hear the rumble of his voice, but the words fell on deaf ears as her blood burned through her. Hanging up with trembling hands, she threw her phone across the room where it landed with a satisfying crack.
He’d finally admitted the truth.
It was her fault.
~ ~ ~
What the fuck was wrong with him? Donovan stared at the phone in his hand in disbelief. Had he really just said those horrible things to Valerie? The words replayed in his head, and he had to fight back the urge to scream in frustration. She infuriated him, but only because she was right. She knew him so well—better than he knew himself sometimes. He almost called her back then and there, but thought better of it. He knew his girl, and pushing now after what he’d said would get him the opposite of what he wanted.
“Miller, you’re in luck. Carter’s wife just went into labor. He needs someone to cover the rest of his shift.” Justin popped his head through the open doorway as he spoke.
Bringing his focus from his crumbling marriage to the job he needed to do, Donovan nodded and stood. “I’ll be ready in five.”
After changing and integrating himself with the A-shift crew, he remembered why he liked these guys so much. No nonsense, no drama, just a bunch of hard working dudes who weren’t big on deep conversation. If he was lucky, he could work enough overtime to justify all the extra nights he knew he’d need before his wife let him come home.
The days bled to weeks, and Donovan honored Valerie’s request for space. But his need for her never wavered. He dreamt of her warm mouth on his, her silky hair tickling his skin, and her soft voice in his ear. Duty days were easier to handle. It was the long stretches where he had nothing to do and no where to go that were unbearable.
Angie had called him about a hundred times over the course of the last few weeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He knew she’d hand him his ass without a second thought.
As he sat at The Oak Tree Cafe eating his breakfast, his heart jumped into his throat at the sight of Valerie, his Valerie, walking through the door. The smile on her face made him happy and enraged all at the same time. How dare she be happy when his heart was in pieces?
She hadn’t caught sight of him yet. Her focus was on Lauren, the waitress, as she led Valerie to a table in the other room. He made quick work of his meal, needing to either escape or confront her. Dropping a twenty on the table, he stood and tucked his wallet in his back pocket. His wedding ring caught on the edge of the denim, making adrenaline course through him at the tangible reminder of her.
He had to at least say hello. It had been so long since they’d seen each other.
His blood ran cold as he entered the other dining area. His wife sat in a booth, her beautiful blond hair cascading over her shoulder in a waterfall of loose waves. But she wasn’t alone. Her light laugh sliced through him as she smiled openly at the handsome man across the table.
The man reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. He touched her. He fucking touched her.
No.
Hell, no.
Enough was enough. She was still married, and always would be if Donovan had anything to say about it.
Clearing his throat, Donovan called attention to himself as he closed the distance between them.
The handsome asshole pulled his hand away slowly, not bothered in the least.
“Donovan.” Valerie’s blue eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
Jealousy burned hot in his veins. She looked guilty. It broke his damn heart because he’d honestly hoped he’d just misunderstood the whole scene. “Moving on already? My side of the bed isn’t even cold.”
The man held up his hands. “Whoa, no. I think you’ve got the wrong—”
“Shut it, asshole. I’m not talking to you,” Donovan snapped, not missing the man’s polished British accent.
“Donovan, stop it.” Valerie’s voice was laced with anger and embarrassment as she hissed under her breath.
“What? You don’t want the town to know you’re cheating on your husband?”
Saying the words out loud made his stomach churn. Impulse taking control, he wrenched the wedding ring off his finger and tossed it at the guy. “Here. Although, it obviously doesn’t mean much to her.”
Turning on his heel, Donovan stormed out of the restaurant, trying to control the oncoming panic attack. As he sat in his jeep, he practiced the breathing exercises he’d become so used to doing. Staring down at his empty ring finger, he felt the unwelcome burn of tears in his eyes.
“Shit. Fuck. Shit.”
~ ~ ~
Valerie’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as she sat stunned in the cafe in the wake of Donovan’s jealous outburst.
“Wow. Val, I take it that’s your husband.” Heath shook his head as he brought his water to his lips.
“He . . . it’s been a hard month.”
“Your mum told me about everything. I hope you don’t mind. Aunt Kelly has never been good at keeping secrets.”
Her chin trembled as her cousin finally broached
the subject she knew he wanted to talk about. It wasn’t just a coincidence that he’d come to town. Heath was a psychologist, specializing in grief and loss, and he could smell denial a mile away. That he’d been her best friend growing up—aside from Angie—only added to her willingness to talk to him. When her aunt and uncle had made a permanent move to Northern England twenty years ago, the cousins had all been crushed. Since then, Heath had settled in LA, building a successful practice.
“Mom doesn’t get why I can’t talk to her about this.”
Heath grabbed her hand and held on tight. “She does. She just doesn’t know how to be there for you right now.”
“How can she understand? She’s probably still able to get pregnant. She’ll be one of those women who doesn’t go through menopause until she’s seventy.”
He laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. “You’re probably right. But, she lost a child, too. You can certainly relate on that level.”
Shaking her head, she picked at her nails. “Simon was different. He was hit by a car. I don’t have the right to grieve over a baby I didn’t even know I was going to have.”
“You have every right to do just that. You’re going through a monumental loss. Not only did you experience a life-threatening situation, you lost a baby, and your fertility.” Gesturing toward the door, he frowned. “And, it would seem your husband isn’t taking it well either.”
“We’re taking time apart.”
“I figured as much.”
Her head ached from the pressure of trying to stay composed. “He’s afraid . . . of a lot of things.” She didn’t feel right about sharing Donovan’s secrets. “Something happened, he ran. I can’t let him back in if he’s going to abandon me when times are hard. They’re hard right now. I needed him and he didn’t trust me. I’m not depressed over the baby. Not anymore. It’s that I’m losing Donovan to his demons.”
“So, whose idea was time apart?”
“Mine.”
“And you think it was the right choice?”
Running a hand through her hair, she sighed. Her stomach hurt, knowing Donovan was out there, thinking she was cheating. “I don’t know.” She hated the wobble in her voice.
“What do you want to do?” He was speaking to her in that calm, clinical way therapists had. All it did right now was piss her off.
Annoyance burned in her chest. “I want my husband to be confident he’d never hurt me. For his asshole dad to have shown some restraint and not left him scarred and traumatized. I want my old life back. I want to never have tried to put off having kids.”
Lauren approached with a tray of food balanced on one hand and a smile on her pretty face. Valerie’s stomach churned and she knew there was no way she could eat. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”
Concern filled the woman’s eyes. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
She was going to cry right here in the middle of a restaurant. Standing, she rushed outside. The cool air hit her face as tears slid down her cheeks. The need to move kept her on her feet, pacing under the pergola-style awning to the side of the entrance. She had to get ahold of her emotions before she had a complete breakdown. Closing her eyes, she took slow, steady breaths.
Heath’s warm hands gripped her shoulders and she was pulled against his chest before she knew what was happening. She wanted so badly for the man holding her to be Donovan. So much that she kept her eyes shut and melted into him for a fraction too long, knowing as soon as she broke the spell her heartache would reappear.
“It’s all right, sweetheart.” The warm baritone that flowed over her made her gasp.
Looking up, she didn’t know what to say to her husband as he stepped with his strong arms around her, his jaw set as he clearly tried to keep himself together. Instead, she just let him hold her and forgot about everything broken between them.
“Val?” Heath’s voice made them both stiffen and turn toward him as he stood in the open doorway.
“It’s fine, Heath. I’ll meet you at the car.” She felt bad for snapping at her cousin, but he was the last person Donovan needed to see at the moment.
“Please, sweetheart.” Donovan’s voice caught as he spoke. “Please tell me you aren’t dating someone already.”
That made her angrier than anything else he’d said. Pushing away from him, she stood her ground, arms crossed over her chest. “Are you serious? You’re asking me if two weeks after our marriage falls apart, I’m screwing around?”
“What am I supposed to think? I’m dying a little more every day, and you’re out with some British douchebag. You were smiling and laughing. Dammit, he was touching you. I’m supposed to be the one who makes you happy.”
“Then why aren’t you?” Her question was more of an angry shout, but she couldn’t hold back. How could he think she’d cheat on him?
“You won’t let me.” His shoulders slumped as he stepped away from her. “What is happening to us?”
“I wish I had an answer.”
Chapter 9
The hardest thing Donovan had ever done was walk away and leave the tatters of his marriage behind in the parking lot of The Oak Tree Cafe. Valerie had been right. He wasn’t making her happy, and something was irrevocably broken between them. It was over.
His whole body was cold as he parked outside of the boardwalk. Every part of him felt like ice, with the exception of his heart. That asshole of an organ ached with a ferocity so strong he worried he might be having a heart attack. Every second he let himself think of her was met with another stab of pain in the center of his chest. Why couldn’t he be completely, blessedly numb?
The sound of cheers erupted from the sports bar across from where he’d parked. Yes, a bar filled with assholes just like him sounded like the best possible way for him to forget about the hole in his chest.
Wandering inside, he parked his ass on a barstool and ordered a bourbon with a beer chaser. He downed the shot without tasting it and ordered another even as he brought the beer to his lips. He was minutes away from not feeling anything. Swallowing a second shot, he welcomed the burn in his throat as the alcohol began doing its duty.
~ ~ ~
“Donovan. Son-of-a-bitch. Get up, you shit-faced idiot.” Michael Oliver’s gruff voice filtered through Donovan’s alcohol-soaked brain.
Wincing against the bright slice of sunlight, he blinked up at Michael’s unamused face. “Leave me alone.” His words came out slurred and sloppy.
“What are you, fucking homeless now?”
He would have argued, but the sand was warm and soft, and oblivion was circling. Darkness slid over him and took him away with only the comfort unconsciousness could offer.
~ ~ ~
Stinging pain bloomed in his nose as he was jerked forward, his face connecting with the dashboard of a car. A car? How the hell had he gotten into a car? The last thing he remembered, he was stumbling out of the bar and falling into the cushion of sand the beach offered.
“Stop taking off your damn seatbelt, Miller.” Michael’s voice was so loud, and the world around Donovan was spinning even though the car was stopped.
“Are you trying to kill me?” He clicked his safety belt into place and lowered his head to his hands as Michael pulled back into traffic.
“You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that all on your own, man. You need to pull your shit together.”
Donovan let out a dark chuckle. There wasn’t anything left to pull together. “Fuck off, Mike.” Looking around as Michael pulled the car into a driveway, Donovan didn’t recognize his surroundings. “Where the hell are you taking me?”
“Alex said you can stay with him until Valerie lets your stupid ass back into the house.”
Shaking his head, Donovan leaned back in his seat, eyes closed against the world. “She’s
not letting me come back,” he slurred. “And you wouldn’t blame her if you knew the shit I’ve said . . . what I’ve done.”
“Fine. Either way, you need to sort out your life and get your head right. You’ve still got a job. Your brothers are counting on you to have their backs when you’re on duty. Are you going to sit back, drink your life away, and end up a sad stereotype? The firefighter who couldn’t hold his marriage together and became a salty old drunk? Because that’s what I’m seeing right now.”
Michael’s words struck him deep. Clenching his jaw, he took a long breath. “You’re an asshole. But you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” Pulling something out of his pocket, he handed Donovan a key ring. “Here.”
Palming the cool metal. Donovan nodded and stepped out of the car. As soon as he opened the door to Alex’s house the sound of Michael’s Impala rumbling away told him he was blissfully alone.
The guest room was nearly empty, just a small bed and a nightstand. But, he didn’t have much anyway. All of his shit was still at the fire station, waiting because he’d been holding on to the ridiculous hope that he and Valerie would work it out. Falling back onto the bed, he let sleep take him, knowing he’d have one hell of a hangover when he woke.
~ ~ ~
“All right kids, lets get our coats on and head out to the bus. Are you ready to learn all about fire safety?”
Valerie’s class of twenty-three kindergarteners cheered in unison, their little faces brightening into wide smiles.
“Who is my line leader this morning?” she asked, eyes on their new student, a sweet little boy named Lincoln with wide, dark eyes, and curly black hair. He’d been shy and quiet over his first few days at his new school, and Valerie hoped by giving him some responsibility today, he’d come out of his shell a little.