Make Me Stay II: A Second Chance Romance

by Avant, Amarie

  Curly tresses went flying as Carly looked up, shoved a hand in her hair, and continued to speak. “Everyone thinks I decided to straighten up and fly right when I had Josh. Shit, you and I both know I had a little crush on Donnie. He was always ready to beat one asshole in or another that I was screwing for money.”

  “Yeah . . .” Avery held in the momentary discomfort that she’d had back in the day. Donavan always made it hard not to trust him. He said he saw Carly as a sister and that’s how he treated her. But dammit, if Carly didn’t do a helluva job trying to tease him—before she decided to love herself.

  “So who wouldn’t want some hero to sweep them off their feet? But I’d forgotten that Donavan was the icky big brother that God saw fit for me to have. I’d probably never have been raped by my dad and his best friend as a kid if God brought Donnie around sooner.” She lifted her shoulders in thought. “For those few months after giving birth to Josh, I was a straight-up fool. Josh was this little tiny thing.” Carly glanced at Anya, her somber gaze momentarily filling with happiness. “My mom never saved me from that fuckoff, and so I really was happy that the Hardys were there for us. They were nothing but babysitters to me in the beginning because I didn’t trust myself around Josh enough. I didn’t have that ‘safety capacity’ . . . that my social worker always warned me about.”

  Avery gave her an encouraging smile. “Joshua never had an open case. You were lucky Carly.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Lucky that he wasn’t a dependent, but still it stuck with me. I always imagined that one day when he was really little that my social worker would just become his. Keep him safe. But I was fortunate. Fortunate to have my life flash before me when I left on my sixteenth birthday with my boyfriend. He was older. We went to Atlantic City. Shopped at the hottest, sexiest stores. In that moment, I was content with handing him all the money I made.” She crossed her arms around herself. “My boyfriend attacked me when I tried to keep a couple dollars. It was for Josh. I wanted to send him a toy and a letter saying, “You’re in good hands, kid.” The bastard stabbed me.”

  The sting of tears pricked Avery’s eyes. Everyone had always known that there was so much more to the story when Carly had just appeared out of nowhere like ET had taken over her body. In this instance, it had been a good thing.

  “Sheesh, you are strong, AC. I didn’t think you ever cried when we were young. Don’t cry because of me.” Carly reached over and patted Avery’s arm. “So, when he stabbed me, it hit my arm, and I fell. He went to do it again, and I kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine. FYI, the only thing my mom ever told me when I asked for help fending off my Dad. So, I tied duct tape around my arm, took my pimp’s money, and came back home. Now, you know. It didn’t just dawn on me to be a good mom.”

  “Right now,” Avery began, “you feel guilty, like that asshole was the reason you got a second chance. Carly, you’ve wizened up so much. So much.”

  “Eh.” She chewed on her lip. “More like scared straight. And to think, I didn’t do it because I friggen pushed eight pounds and seven ounces of human out of me.”

  They both laughed.

  “After I came home from Atlantic City, if a man would’ve asked me for a blowjob while writing a check for a million bucks, I would’ve broken my knuckles across his teeth! And when I think back to it, I wonder if that’s what did it. Guys flirt with me left and right, and I go on about my business, not giving them a single glance. And here comes Hunter. At first, he seemed to ignore me, unlike most of the douchebags running around. When I think back to it, I wonder if that’s what did me in. Made me lose my mind wanting him so badly. So you know me, goofy Carly, who just saw her . . .”

  “Josh Harnett crush.” They said together.

  “Hell yeah, in the flesh. I played with him. I did that with an old coworker at Smiles Dental before leaving. I swear, all those flirtations were the only action I’ve had in ages. My coworker was bored. I was bored. Then Hunter didn’t give me the time of day.” She chuckled. “Then that last day he looked at me, really looked at me.”

  Carly placed her palms behind her and leaned her head back, welcoming the sun. With her mouth up in an awkward position, it took some straining, but Avery read Carly’s lips, clinging on to each word. “This was how Hunter made me feel. Like I was bathing in sunlight.”

  Avery exhaled, momentarily enchanted by the poetic response. “Wow, that sounds beautiful. So, what did the two of you do?”

  “We had drinks, and we talked.” Carly stared off into the distance. “Really talked, ya know? He has this way with words. At first, I wondered if he read poetry or romantic icebreakers off the internet, but all-night long, Hunter didn’t see any other woman but me. All the while, that sneaky bastard handed me another drink and another drink.”

  “Do you think he—”

  “Nah. It was just the old, tried and true combination of southern charm and alcohol. In my intensive therapy, I learned about proximities and my own space.” Carly finally glanced at Avery. “So what got me in the beginning was Hunter not showing the slightest interest in me—hope that makes sense. He didn’t mirror the greater male population, a hound chasing ass. Then my wannabe-Josh Harnett flipped the script. Poetry, alcohol. Shit, I was a goner.”

  Avery chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “Sheesh, what an asshole.”

  “Listen, I never told Donnie, Mom, or even Dad about why I came home. But it’s been so long since I felt a connection with someone. Truthfully, maybe forever because I fell for Hunter before he groomed me with nice words and shit. It took me less than a second to fall and three days with him—Avery—I . . . my heart.” Carly pressed a hand to her chest.

  Avery sat closer to her, leaning her arm against Carly’s. “Carly, I’d love to predict the future, but that wouldn’t be fair to you. He might come around; he might not. But be that as it may, you have the right to feel sad right now. Just don’t let another person’s actions control you.”

  Carly nodded. Fisting a bit of grass, she played with it for a second. “Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. I’ll return to work—not right now though—when you get a text alert.”

  “Sure, and thanks for showing that smile. Donnie and I can barely match your previous pay, so I am grateful. And keep smiling because soon we will be paying you more than a couple dollars over minimum wage.” Avery winked.

  “Oh, that’s if we don’t keep coming up with ideas for Franny’s B&B.” Carly double winked dramatically.

  “Hey, I think I’m getting on Donavan’s nerves as it is. I mentioned paddle boats last week, and he blinked a few times before walking away.”

  “Forget him. We got this,” Carly said. “I don’t mind suffering with the two of you—money wise—for a little longer because when I went to school to be a dental assistant, I saw how much I could make an hour. Believe you me, that was a friggen gold mine in my uneducated eye. But now I understand, it’s not about money. Doesn’t hurt that I do what I love too. Chatting with people, baking pastries.”

  She bumped her shoulder against Carly’s. “Me too . . .”

  Avery licked her lips and glanced across the peaceful lake, hoping that this was really a dream come true for Donavan too.

  38

  Donavan

  He’d showered off the fresh cut grass scent that had clung to his skin after working the Baudelaire land. Next on the list was helping Junior with his homework and a pillow fight, a promise made due to his son’s disinterest in taking a shower. When Junior had finally headed into his en suite bathroom, Donavan started out of the bedroom but turned in time to dodge another feather pillow. Laughing, he picked it up and turned around.

  “No spaghetti Tuesday?” Donavan cocked his head while asking.

  With a grumble, Junior hung his head and continued into the bathroom.

  In the master bedroom, Anya lay in the center of the bed. Avery had a diaper and a thick-cottony pair of footed pajamas next to her. Avery had just bathed their daughter and was rubb
ing her tiny feet with baby oil. Anya smiled up at him.

  “You’re lucky, honey bun,” he said to the baby, then kissed Avery on the nape of her neck. “I could use a massage too.”

  “Well, get in line.”

  Avery made quick work of dressing the baby before Donavan scooped her up into his arms. His nose nuzzled at her neck, breathing in her scent.

  “I have the prettiest baby in the entire universe,” he said grinning into her bright eyes. “Fuck that, the stratosphere.”

  Avery bumped her shoulder against his. “Hey, no cussing in front of someone that can actually hear you.”

  He winked, ignoring his fiancé and telling Anya, “Baby girl, the cussing just adds emphasis to exactly how gorgeous you are. Aren’t you gorgeous? Now, tell your mama to feed you because we like clean, fat babies.”

  “Ha, she’s . . .” Avery glanced over him, eyebrows lifting. “You showered and put on cargo pants and a polo for the night? Donnie, I don’t believe our guests need us dressed up this evening.”

  “After dinner, I’m heading out.”

  “Out?” she murmured, shock still registering.

  “With Tripp, sweetheart.” He held Anya up to his chest, his bicep larger than her little body. Then he took his other hand to Avery’s face, his thumb caressing across her cheek.

  “Pre-warning would be nice, I guess.” She glanced toward the door. Junior was already bounding down the hall in long-sleeve Black Panther pajamas. “Your son has taken his Nascar pit crew equivalency of a shower. Do you mind confirming that he’s clean before the two of you start cooking? I’m going to wash off the day.”

  He kissed Anya’s forehead while watching his woman sashay toward their bathroom. Wow, she took that better than I expected.

  Leaving their home on a few occasions before Avery could say anything hadn’t sat well with him. It wasn’t fair that Avery was in charge of running the bed and breakfast and raising their children, and he’d been the culprit.

  After checking on his son and sending him for another wash, Donavan returned to their room to find Avery out of the shower. He reluctantly gave Anya up to Avery as Junior came running back into the room.

  “Little chef, what’s on the menu today?” Donavan asked.

  Junior held up his iPad. “Chocolate pasta.”

  Avery, who sat holding Anya, spoke to their daughter. “Honey bun, did you hear the good news? You’re gonna have chocolate milk tonight for dessert. Are you ready?”

  “Yuck,” Junior said. “She’s talking about mommy milk.”

  “Hell, yeah.” Donavan chuckled. “And you . . .” He paused. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that his son had mommy milk at one point as a baby. Damn what an automatic response. Donavan had to stop himself from mentioning something that was stolen from him—and Avery. All Donavan knew about Junior’s wee years came from the Carlsons. “And you’ll understand one day, son, that mommy milk is the best for growing bones.”

  Junior shrugged. “Heh, I don’t think so. And are we nicknaming Anya, honey bun? I’ve seen you guys say it a few times.”

  Avery and Donavan stared at each other before busting up laughing.

  She shrugged. “Who came up with it, me or you?”

  Donavan reached over to rub his thumb across her smiling lips. “Not sure. But it sounds better than fatso.”

  “Hey.” She pushed his hand away. “We can’t talk about the fatso in her presence. See, Junior, honey bun is the kinder version of Anya’s nicknames.”

  Their son shook his head as they shared another moment of laughter.

  Cooking took longer than anticipated, so Donavan texted Tripp that he would meet him soon. Tonight, they’d planned to murder Rich Boy. Avery set the table while Anya slept in a bassinet.

  She rubbed her hands together. “Chocolate pasta, parmesan cheese, and tomatoes . . .”

  Junior smiled at her. “Not just tomatoes. Dad started the sauce this morning after taking me to school.”

  Donavan added, “Yes, with the chef’s orders. I can’t believe I’m a sous chef to my own son.”

  Junior laughed. “I’m a take charge kinda guy.”

  Avery rolled her eyes in feigned shock. “Oh, yeah, that’s what you both say. Now, should I start with the salad that I begged you to add to the menu tonight. It’s safe right?”

  “I guess. The anchovies are hidden beneath the buttercup lettuce.” Junior chuckled wickedly this time.

  “See what happens when you encourage your children’s dreams.” Donavan shook his head.

  Once dinner was served, Avery moved her fork around the plate. She took a gulp before twirling her fork around the spaghetti. “Hey.” She glanced over at Donavan. “This was your tradition. So, I’m not on a solo mission to tell you all how it tastes.”

  Donavan shrugged. “Alright.” He dug into his plate.

  Junior did as well.

  They all held their forks suspended close to their lips with goofy giggles.

  “On three,” Junior said. He counted slowly. When his parents took a taste of their food, they glared at him for watching them. Giddy as ever, Junior shoveled the big bite into his mouth.

  Avery’s eyes brightened before she finished eating. “Oh! I’ve always prided myself on having an extensive palate. Son, you’ve out done yourself.”

  Junior beamed from ear to ear, a peach color rising on his butterscotch complexion. “Mom, Dad, you guys are awesome.”

  “We are?” Donavan signed.

  “Yeah, I told my teacher about our spaghetti nights. This moment is almost perfect!”

  “What will make it perfect, Junior?” Avery asked.

  “When you can hear, Mom. Then me. And going to the world series of course.”

  After they had eaten and laughed for a while, Donavan caught Avery’s eye before asking their son, “Junior, what do you think if we don’t see The Carlsons for a while?”

  Junior tugged his bottom lip into his mouth in thought, and they waited with bated breath. He slowly wove together the words that spoke volumes with his fingers. “Even Maggie Carlson?”

  “Thursday night and Saturday morning’s Junior. Of course, we will still see her,” Avery said, mentioning the current little league baseball season.

  He shrugged.

  “Son, you have to use your words.”

  “I know Jess and Mom aren’t getting along. Jess has been extra cranky. I’ll miss Ted, and I’ll miss . . .” He stopped, his hands falling to the table, and he cried, mumbling something about not having enough time with Maggie.

  Avery eyed Donavan to ask what Junior had said, but he pretended not to be aware. His fiancée and Jessica’s argument was taking its toll on everyone.

  * * *

  Junior’s sad sobs played over and over in Donavan’s ears. While driving his truck over to Tripp’s place, he kept telling himself that Rich Boy’s life didn’t matter. That maybe the guy had done something to deserve the Vitality target on his back. And if that didn’t work, he’d already determined that getting a live-in nurse for his dad was paramount, especially with Carly at the bed and breakfast most mornings. This first assignment was going to do a world of good, and so he concentrated on how the money would help his family.

  Turning the wheel, Donavan made a left on a street a few blocks away from the two-bedroom house he’d been renting when he and Avery’s lives had crashed back into each other. The neighborhood was missing a few streetlights, so he was surprised when he pulled up to a home that appeared to be well kept.

  The porch lights illuminated low-cut green grass and a freshly painted house, unlike the crappy, chipped place he’d lived in.

  Tripp came strolling out. He’d made it down the last step when a woman with vibrant red hair and a matching silk robe came to the door. He jumped back up the steps, scooped her into his arms, planting a kiss on her face.

  Damn, he hoped that Avery would give him the same loving after he bought that diamond necklace that he saw in the jewelry store win
dow on Valentine’s Day. Making her happy was at the top of his list. Only second to Greg who was too daggon stubborn and kept quiet about the pain that he was in.

  Tripp climbed into the truck and licked the lipstick from his mouth. “See all that sweet ass? Don’t fuck up the gig we have going for us because I gotta get home before she goes to sleep.”

  Shaking his head, Donavan pulled out of the parallel position and drove down the street.

  “This little assignment we have going for us doesn’t seem as easy as I thought,” Tripp groaned, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Now, I’m wishing we could’ve just put a bullet in his ass on day one and got it over with—do a smooth get away. Something fun to tie up loose ends.”

  “Rich Boy didn’t have enough money to attend the fundraiser. I think that would’ve been an open and close deal, taking him out with friends around. Make it look like a heart attack—no matter how healthy the bastard appears. But,” Donavan smoothly braked at a stoplight, “lucky for us, he isn’t as much of a homebody as we initially thought.”

  Tripp sniggered. “If I were him, I’d be going out every night of the week.”

  “If you were him, you’d be on your last breath.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. So, all that snooping around and watching him take showers—”

  “Hah. Tripp, you know good and fucking well that I haven’t watched Rich Boy shower. I had my eyes on his phone the entire time. He’s got a date tonight. Escort actually.” Donavan headed toward downtown to the mark’s posh condominium.

  “What about his driver?”

  Donavan shrugged. “Rich Boy gave his driver the night off, which means less casualties for us.”

  “Damn, this mission is gonna blow,” Tripp said. Before Donavan could address his desire to go guns and roses on their mark, he whistled. “I thought having a driver and a Town Car was nice shit. But . . .” Tripp shook his head, voice trailing off.

  Donavan hardly glanced at the $400,000 supercar, smooth as ever, zip up the ramp from the underground parking garage. “No moral code for you, bro. I get it. No, actually, I can’t get that. Tripp you weren’t like this—”