Jack (The Family Simon Book 2) (16 page)

But I want more.

Nothing compared to the connection she felt when she was with Jack, and Donovan was getting tired of denying herself the very thing that she wanted. Was she crazy to even consider it? Would the truth blow up in her face and end things before they had a chance to begin?

“You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

It was nearly six o’clock and Donovan was down at the beach with Brett. Jack had just returned from town with a few things for dinner—the plan was, food and then a fire. Sabrina insisted Donovan relax and since she was still doing the whole avoiding thing, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to agree to keep Brett company while Sabrina and Jack finished preparing the burgers, salad, and corn on the cob.

She offered a smile. “I guess I am.”

They were quiet for a few moments, both of them gazing out over the water, and Donovan let the easy silence wash over her. It was so peaceful here. So far away from her everyday crazy life.

“So tell me about yourself Donovan James,” Brett said glancing her way. “What’s your story?”

His voice was low and raspy, and she had to concentrate in order to hear him properly.

“My story?”

He nodded. “Yes. Everyone has a story. What’s yours? I know you’re a big time celebrity, but I don’t know much else about you.”

“It’s nothing special.”

“Humor me.”

Donovan hated talking about herself and hesitated for a few moments, eyes back on a boat crossing a mile out. Maybe it was the ease of Brett’s company. Or maybe it was the magical waters of Lake Muskoka. Whatever it was, she found herself settling back into her chair and talking.

“Well, I grew up in Arkansas at the foot of the Ozarks with my mom and my grandparents. Our house was a lovely, restored trailer and yes, you guessed it, we lived in a trailer park. Not very original. We didn’t have much, but I never went hungry or anything. Even though my clothes might not have been trendy, they were clean.”

“No father?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “I have vague memories of him. Just images and feelings, really, and even then sometimes I wonder if what I remember are things I was told, not things I actually saw. But I do have a clear memory of him sitting on the front porch with a beat up Gibson. He’d play and sing and toss me sugar candies.”

Donovan paused, chest tight. She hadn’t thought about him in forever. A man who was part of her history. A man she’d never really known.

“He loved music almost as much as he liked his whisky and that caused a lot of problems. He left when I was five and died when I was ten. I never really got the story of how he died, but I’m pretty sure he drank himself to death.”

“I’m sorry,” Brett replied, softly rolling his words.

“Don’t be,” she replied. “He was a mean drunk. My mama said it was for the best, but I think she was hiding a broken heart and that changed her. I can’t remember what her smile looked like.” Donovan paused, reaching for a memory, but there was nothing there. “How sad is that?” she whispered. “She was half alive, and the part that was alive was sad and angry.”

“You get your talent from him?”

“I suppose. I mean, he played guitar like no ones business. He could pick hillbilly and bluegrass and pretty much everything. He would make me sing for him and after he left, I’d sing everywhere. I think in my mind if I was singing, he’d hear me and come home. I’d sing in church.” She smiled. “In school when I was supposed to be studying. I’d sing on the street corner while Mama was in getting our grocery order.” She paused. “Singing was my way of leaving all the ugliness behind. It was my way of daydreaming you know? When I sang, I wasn’t me…I was like an angel floating above everything. Free to be happy.”

“Sounds nice.”

“My mama figured out early on that my singing could bring in some extra dollars, so she started booking shows at fairs and such. When I was seventeen, we got ourselves a talent agent and well, here I am.”

“Living the dream,” Brett said.

“I’m living someone’s dream,” she replied. “Just not mine.”

Shit. What was she doing? A trip down memory lane was never a good idea.

“Sometimes life gets crazy,” Brett said. “You need to slow down and appreciate everything you’ve got.”

Donovan took a sip of iced tea and nodded, her gut twisted and her throat tightened with emotion. What the hell was wrong with her?

“You’re right. Of course you’re right, but it’s hard sometimes. America thinks I have the world by the balls. They think that fame and money is everything. That if you’re some kind of star, you must be happy.” She glanced at Brett sharply. “I’m not gonna lie. Money makes things a whole lot easier. I don’t have to worry about where my next dollar is coming from. Don’t have to worry about how I’m gonna pay the mortgage or car payment. Those are real problems for a lot of folks, and I get that but…”

She took another sip of iced tea and hoped she didn’t sound like a spoiled, ungrateful brat.

“It’s not everything. I play in front of thousands of fans. I step out onto that stage and man, the love I get... Whew, the love is fast and hard. It wraps itself around me for those two and half hours, and I can’t even describe the rush. You just can’t know unless you’re there. But I miss…”

She stared down at her hands unable to continue because the truth was hard.

“What do you miss?”

“I miss simple and easy. I miss a time when I didn’t have to worry about my road crew and their families and their need for income. I love them all, I do, but the weight of knowing I’m responsible for their livelihood is heavy. I miss the honkytonks. Those little hole in the wall places filled with smoke and sweat and beer and sex. That right there is an entirely different connection. I mean, when the light was just right, I could see the faces of the people standing at the back of the bar watching me. Feeling me. I miss that intimacy. Everything in my world is so big and flashy and commercialized that sometimes I feel lost inside it.”

Jesus. Where the hell was all this coming from?

“You miss the simplicity.”

“Yes, but more than that I miss…”

Someone waiting for me at night.

Someone with strong arms and a mouth worth dying for.

Someone I love arguing with. Making love with.

Someone who doesn’t kiss my ass.

Someone who challenges me.

“I miss Jack,” she whispered.

Shit. Brett was going to think she was a complete and utter loser. “I’m sorry,” Donovan said quickly, more than a little flustered. “I guess you got a whole lot more than my story.”

Brett was silent for a few seconds, and Donovan noticed his fingers trembled as he tugged on his blanket. She bent over and pulled it up over his lap.

“It’s a good story, a real story,” he said, voice a little hoarse as he settled back into his chair. “But it’s not finished.”

“No,” Donovan said. “It’s not.”

The kids came running down onto the beach, and even though they were about to eat, Harry dove into the water and after a quick glance over to their father, Morgan giggled and followed her brother in.

“Some might think mine is over.”

She glanced at Brett, her eyes bubbling when she saw the raw pain and love and sorrow on his face as he watched his children.

“It’s not.” He turned to Donovan and tried to smile, but the sadness in his eyes made it hard.

“I’m mad as hell at the way it’s been written. Mad as hell that Sabrina will have to raise our kids without me. That Harry and Morgan’s memories will be of a dad too sick to take them out onto the boat that last summer they had with him. I’m pissed that Sabrina will meet someone, and she will, she’s too damn special not to. I’m angry at all of that, but so blessed at the same time. I had these three people. I had them. They were mine, Sabrina for over ten years, and those ten years are all that matter. Those ten years are my story, and I’ll take it with me wherever I end up.”

He glanced up at the sky and smiled and for a few precious moments, Donovan felt as if she was looking into his soul.

“I’ll always have them. Whatever is still out there for me will just have to make room for what I’m bringing along for the ride. Love doesn’t die.” Brett met her gaze. “Sometimes it hides. Sometimes it changes. But real love is always there, and I believe it can even transcend death.”

He cleared his throat and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to get so heavy.”

“No,” she said, leaning forward and clasping his hands between hers. “Don’t you dare apologize. I think that you just might be the smartest man I’ve ever met.”

He smiled again, and once more she caught a glimpse of the man he’d been before cancer had taken over.

“We won’t tell Jack,” he replied with a wink.

“Won’t tell Jack what?”

Startled, Donovan looked behind her. Her stomach rolled. Her insides quaked. And her heart started up like a rocket shooting into space.

Wearing nothing but those damn board shorts, with all that tanned skin and those bulging biceps, he looked like every woman’s dream—the oven mitts and pan only added to his sex appeal.

He hadn’t shaved—again—and those eyes of his were dark as they regarded her, a strange look in their depths.

Quickly, she swiped at the still damp tears in the corners of her eyes and attempted a smile as she ignored his question.

“Dinner’s ready?” she asked instead.

“Yes,” Jack replied, nodding to Brett as he moved past them and set the large pan on the picnic table. “Sabrina will be down in a minute.”

Jack leaned against the table, his eyes moving from Donovan to Brett. “How ya feeling?” he asked.

“Better than ever,” Brett replied. “I like your girl.”

Donovan’s eyes slid away, and she watched the kids as they clambered out of the water and ran toward them.

She wanted that. She wanted to be Jack’s girl.

She
wanted
his baby.

She thought of Brett and Sabrina and their bittersweet, tragic story. Maybe Brett was right. Her story
wasn’t
over. Maybe everything keeping her and Jack apart didn’t matter. Maybe Cooper’s threats didn’t matter and the whole mess with Derek, that awful night from five years ago? Maybe it was time to tell Jack that story.

Maybe it was time for Donovan to write her own story. Time for her to face some hard truths. To admit to past mistakes and take a chance on the only man she would ever love.

Of course the question was, did she have enough balls to do it?

It was just before eleven when Jack and Donovan headed up to his place, but it felt much later. He was dead tired. He was running on little sleep, and a full day on the water with the kids hadn’t helped.

It had been one hell of a weird day, and he was just about ready for it to be over. He’d barely exchanged two words with Donovan since the morning, but he’d felt her eyes on him more than once throughout the evening. Something was up, a shift in their universe and something was about to happen. He could feel it.

But what?

He watched as she cradled Coco and picked her way along the path in the dark. Her hair was loose, the long blond tangles falling halfway down her back and the breeze played with the ends. Dressed in one of his old sweatshirts, she looked so damn small—no wonder his protective instincts were kicking in. There were solar lights along the path but still, the steps were uneven, and he was ready to catch her if she stumbled.

She didn’t, and he followed her inside the house. He’d left one lamp on near the leather sofa and long shadows filled in most of the great room. She walked a few paces and then paused, absently petting Coco as she turned to him. The shadows made her eyes look huge and mysterious, her mouth so damn kissable that his mind started to wander to places it shouldn’t. And that hair. Jesus that hair. She looked as wild and untamed as when he’d first met her.

Coco hopped out of her arms and sniffed around Jack’s feet, his little body trembling with excitement. The dog barked once and then ran to the sofa, tail wagging fiercely before he settled down, little tongue out and panting as if he’d just run a quarter mile.

Donovan licked her lips, bit on her bottom one, but her eyes never left his. The silence between them felt so big that it was loud and alive and full of hard things.

“I should just…I’ll head up now,” Donovan said softly, turning toward the stairs.

“No. Wait.” Jack blew out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “I…we need to talk.”

Donovan took a few seconds before she turned back around. She opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it before she could get any words out. He let that dark and heavy silence wash over him again, watching her closely, waiting for her to react.

But she kept silent, so he plunged forward, speaking the things that he’d been thinking about all afternoon.

“This is wrong, Donnie. All of it. I should never have forced you to come up here with me. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sighed. “Obviously I wasn’t and I apologize for that. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Her eyes slid away, and he clenched his fists together. He needed for her to understand.

“You don’t want to be here, and I’m not the guy who’s gonna force it. Not anymore. I don’t have time for the kind of bullshit we’re playing at. I’m not that guy. I never was.”

He crossed over to the kitchen and scooped up a small plastic bag. “I got this when I was in town.”

“What is it?”

She was close. Not only could he smell that sweet scent that was all Donovan, but he felt her. Like an imprint or a brand seared into his flesh.

He turned back to her, angry and not really knowing why. “It’s a pregnancy test. Says it can give a reading as early as seven days after conception, which from my way of figuring is right about now. Take it and then we’ll know for sure.”

She stared at the bag in his hands for several moments.

“And then what?” she whispered.

“Then you can go home, and we’ll figure out the rest. If you’re pregnant we’ll deal with it. If not, well…” He shrugged but didn’t say anything more.