Make Me Stay II: A Second Chance Romance

by Avant, Amarie

  This morning, Donavan didn’t feel so much like a piece of shit while stepping into the devil’s den. Carly had seen to that, making him feel like crap. He’d gone into the kitchen to grab one of the pastries that she made for the guests when she’d asked him if Avery knew that their father had a caregiver. The resulting conversation had landed him a punch from Carly for breakfast instead. But she had told him that she did appreciate the help. Now, he was on edge, reminding himself every other second that the sound of bullets was just fragments from days in his past and not a part of his future. He just had to keep cool, get the next assignment from Avery’s father, and leave. He knew for a fact that the sooner he distanced himself, the sooner the “white noise” would stop. Yeah, Alex is fucking with my head. The less we’re around each other, the better off I’ll be.

  “You’ve exceeded my expectations,” Mr. Castle said bringing Donavan to attention. “Always on time when I call, and for once in my life, I can say I was sorely wrong about a person and actually appreciate it. How do you feel about ending Maxine Winters?”

  Donavan’s gritted his teeth. “No. Just piece of shit rich men like you. Wait, did you just say Maxine . . .”

  “Yes, indeed. Winters, the one and only thorn in the side of my daughter.” Alexander rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Don’t be so weak, Donavan. You went from cold fury as it pertains to all rich fucks like me to cold feet when I wanted you to murder a female. You’ll let things hit home maybe once or twice before you take things into your own hands.”

  Alexander held out his iPad.

  With a narrowed gaze, Donavan glanced over what appeared to be a blog.

  “I was only kidding. It wouldn’t do to get rid of the woman now. I’m a patient man. Avery begged me to play nice the first time—see what happens when you don’t take a snake at face value. They come back and bite you again.”

  Donavan stared at the blog, fire coursing through his veins. He wanted to beat the shit out of every single person that commented on the blog. And Maxine, well, she was a cunt, though he had known her too long to wish any permanent ill on her.

  “Unfortunately, my little princess, who was slandered so callously,” he said, taking back the iPad and glaring at the screen again, “isn’t going to agree to me having a hand in this. And we are keeping our newfound relationship under wraps.”

  “Do you think Avery has seen this?” Donavan asked, pulling out his cell phone.

  “Hopefully not. The site will be deleted shortly, and the person who deals with PR in regard to the Castles will be reprimanded, since this was posted over a week ago.”

  “For now.” Alexander held out another envelope with the Vitality seal, though they both knew it had nothing to do with the corporation as a whole. There was a secret circle, and Donavan had been thrust into it.

  Donavan got up, numb to the fact that within the confines of the envelope was another life to be claimed, and he exited the lavish walls of Alexander’s office. In the hallway, he texted Avery.

  DONAVAN: You ok?

  AVERY: So you know…

  DONAVAN: ??

  AVERY: I’m fine. I won’t compromise my breastmilk (wink). Anya (fart emoji) when I’m angry.

  He shook his head with a laugh.

  While traveling home, Donavan stopped in front of the jewelry store. He parked his truck. This time he was heading inside.

  “Welcome.” A woman with a French accent called out to him from the center of the store. She stood behind a glass stand filled with flawless diamonds. “Are you searching for anything in particular.”

  “There’s this necklace I’ve been eyeing for my fiancée.” With Avery in a sad mood, maybe he could slip it on her without getting the third degree. Aside from funding Greg’s personal nurse, he had saved the rest. He needed it to commission the gazebo and some of the other upgrades Avery wanted, but he had to do it without her becoming suspicious of the financing.

  “I’ve seen you stop by and look in the window from your motorcycle a few times. We do have a very accommodating interest plan.” She cushioned her statement with a megawatt smile.

  He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I don’t like owing folks.” Donavan pointed to the necklace that he wanted.

  “Gorgeous,” the attendant gasped. He had chosen a necklace with an impressive heart-shaped diamond pendant. She pointed to the larger alternative, which had three carat diamonds. “Might I suggest this one?”

  “Nah, I don’t wanna scare her too much.”

  The lady’s eyebrows crinkled.

  Realizing how the truth laced in that statement could be misconstrued, Donavan chuckled. “Oh, she isn’t big on flashy ass diamonds.”

  * * *

  On his way home, Donavan decided that bringing home a diamond necklace was a bit much, so he’d stopped at the pet store. Donavan reached over to the passenger seat of his truck and scooped up a black golden retriever with a rich fur coat. The pup licked at his face.

  “Hey, I didn’t buy you for me, dog. You put a smile on Avery’s face, and you’re family. Got that?”

  The puppy yipped.

  Donavan glanced over at the driver side door just as Junior came running over. “You got a—”

  Donavan placed his index finger to his lips and gave Junior a stern look before gesturing for Junior to walk over to the passenger side. His son climbed into the car, and Donavan handed the puppy over.

  “Oh, you’re so cool!” Junior screeched.

  Donavan gathered his son’s attention. “So, buddy, we gotta sneak him in the house. Consider it home plate. If the dog gets there, he’s golden, so to speak.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Eh, let’s wait until the big boss lets us keep him.”

  Junior pouted, eyes longing for agreement. “Aw, Dad, but I want to name him Sheriff.”

  “I like that name.” Donavan placed Sheriff against his chest and then zipped up his leather jacket. “Remember home plate.”

  All the excitement that oozed through Junior was confined in a tight little ball as he bound out of the car, catching up with Donavan’s stride. While one hand held his jacket to stop Sheriff from wiggling so much, Donavan placed his arm around his son and led him into the house.

  There were a few guests in the sitting room, a couple talking over sweet tea and one reading a novel as they passed by. In the library, Avery stood staring out as Anya rested in a baby carrier against her chest. His daughter’s bright eyes widened, and she began cooing when she saw him. Avery turned around.

  “I swear there was a photo of me and you, Donavan, right here . . .” Avery stopped then said, “Why do we look like twins?” She glanced down at Anya strapped in, resting low near her belly and then Donavan’s protruding abdomen.

  “Eh, we must really love each other. I’m gaining pregnancy weight.”

  “Hey, I’m no longer pregnant, and I’m just a few pounds off from my . . .” She reached over, but he sidestepped her.

  Donavan Junior stepped in the way, looking up through long lashes. “We have a surprise for you, Mom.”

  She chewed her bottom lip in thought. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t like surprises.”

  “Too late!”

  Her gaze went back to her fiancé’s. “What is this surprise?”

  Donavan began to inch down his zipper, and Sheriff popped up, licking at his jaw. Avery gasped, taking a few steps back. Junior took the puppy, and Donavan held out his hands for his daughter.

  “Hey, your hands are dirty.” She took a few paces back.

  “I’ll wash them. And Sheriff can stay?”

  “You named him!” She screeched, following after Donavan as he headed through the dining room and into the kitchen.

  Junior tugged her shirt. “I named him, Mommy.”

  After Donavan washed his hands, he took Anya. Avery placed her hands on her hips then went to sit on the stool at the island. “We can’t afford a dog.”

  “Then I got him from a box in an empty field. Sign sai
d free pups. He was the last one there. Cold and alone.”

  “Wow, that sounds like a true story, although, it’s a hot day. Listen, Donnie, we’d have to get his shots and get him fixed. If I see creepy humping stuffed animals, I’m—”

  “Done.”

  She paused. “You’re not listening to me. I’m not telling you things we need to do. I’m telling you the compilation of expensive shit we aren’t doing because we aren’t—”

  He placed his hand over her mouth, his mannerisms exaggerated as he said, “You just cussed in front of my baby.”

  “Ohhhh, you cussed in front of Anya,” Junior giggled. “Too late. He made it into the house, Mom.”

  “What’s that gotta do with it? I will carry his . . . cute, fluffy, loveable ass out myself.” She stopped signing and pouted. “Nope, never mind. Your dad will.”

  Junior burst into tears.

  Avery glared at Donavan, head tilted. “Where’s the tough love?”

  Donavan placed a hand on his son’s arm. “Bud, stop.”

  Junior pressed himself against his mother, clinging to her leg and burrowing his face into her ribs. She grabbed his shoulders to try and get him to stop. Then her heart felt heavy, and she rubbed his sandy blond hair with a huff.

  Only when she caressed his face did Junior glance up at her. “Alright, you win. But Sheriff is your job. You and your father’s, and if I have a problem or a guest has a complaint—or allergies . . .”

  Donavan stopped cooing at Anya and looked up with a triumphant smile. He placed Anya in the bouncer next to the table and pulled his woman into a hug.

  “Hey, I’m still working out the negatives in my head, Donnie. Don’t run for the win just yet.”

  “Just another task for us to wrangle together, AC. We got this.” His fingers took hold of hers. Donavan buried his mouth at the curve right above her collarbone, kissing the soft skin.

  A moan slipped from her lips. “You’re just pushing past my defenses, aren’t you?”

  “No. You’re out of this world gorgeous. A vibrant force that doesn’t give in because of a little kiss.”

  To stop her from replying, Donavan guided her body to him, pressing his lips against hers until the taste of him lingered, and she moaned against his mouth. She made the deaths that were beginning to surround him pass away.

  46

  Hunter

  He’d started with the little things. First day, playing nice and thoughtfully returning his tray to the kitchen after eating. It escalated from there, not entirely too quickly, just enough to make it easier on Mom when he needed to leave. Day two was marked by Hunter saying he wanted to take a walk, a short fifteen-minute walk. He’d caught the hesitance in her eyes before she’d agreed. And not fifteen minutes later, he had returned home.

  Day three, he’d mentioned a park that he’d found the day prior and asked for an hour. His mom had offered to go with him, saying she’d needed to work her joints. Ultimately, she caved and didn’t go, which was precisely what he needed from her. He needed her to become comfortable with breaking Dr. Rembrandt’s rules. He wasn’t a minor in need of a caregiver, not in the least. But if Mom was too worried, she’d call in reinforcements, and that damn Hawk would know exactly where to find him.

  By the end of the week, he’d stayed out all night, and Mom was her usually complacent self. Today, Hunter told himself that he had a day and a half, most of which he’d spend driving to and from Myrtle Beach.

  “Hunter, I swear . . .” His mother played the authoritative figure for a moment as they stood at the carport. “We have our session with Doctor Tombell on Thursday morning. If you’re not home when I wake up, I’m calling your dad and brother, you got that?”

  He nodded. The strategic move to invite his mother to his last therapeutic session had been like checkmating his opponent. Hunter slid into the driver’s seat of the very car he’d abandoned last time he’d skipped town. He was surprised they’d found it, but these folks meddled in his life like he was a wayward teenager—or what the kids back in school used to call him—a creepy, quiet little fucker.

  “Mom, I’m just meeting a friend in Birmingham. Dinner on the boardwalk. I’ll stay the night with her, and I’ll be headed back home. A three-hour drive and done.”

  “Aw, Mommy’s just glad that you still have friends from high school. Though, I do wish she would—”

  “Hey, I said she’s just made manager position and invited me to celebrate.”

  She pawed at his face as if it were almost fifteen years ago. “I know. And you also said she had a few meals for you when . . . when you were living on the streets, Son. So enjoy your date.”

  “It’s not a date.” He winked.

  She picked up his backpack from the curb. “Wow, that’s heavy for one night out.”

  He took the backpack that was filled with energy drinks from her. “Can’t go visit a friend without bearing gifts.”

  “Alright, Son, I love you. Don’t make me regret this.” She closed the door slowly.

  * * *

  Hunter made the eight-hour drive to Myrtle Beach in just under seven. The torrid air had clung to him while passing through the rest of Alabama and Georgia. It had felt like the heater was on, though he’d driven with the windows down, and this was nowhere near the weather he had become accustomed to while living on the streets. He’d gotten soft. He blamed it on the sedentary life forced upon him with the air conditioner blasting in his bedroom. When he stepped out of the car, the cool, salty breeze chilled his clammy skin.

  He clutched the paper with Maxine’s address in his hand, which he’d purchased on what his father would’ve called some “rinky dink” website. Because it was early afternoon, Hunter parked a few blocks down from her oceanfront condo. Baseball cap slung low, he began to walk. Twenty minutes later, he’d climbed the cinderblock wall near the back entrance of the community.

  A few seconds after Hunter rang the bell, the door creaked open. A woman in a red silk robe folded her arms. The stench of alcohol reached him before she said, “I started packing my things already!”

  In a slurred voice, she muttered that being foreclosed on no longer mattered to her. A bottle of vodka that had been at her side sloshed as she pointed it to him. “You damn HOA people don’t have a right to kick me out of my house! Stop harassing me. I’ve taken a straight razor to all the Berber carpet. See how plush it is in strips. I took a hammer to the bathroom too.” She smirked. “I hope this place sits vacant forever after—”

  “I’m not here to kick you out or anything,” Hunter said, adding a dose of sincerity to his tone.

  She teetered a little bit before asking, “Then why are ya here?”

  “Because of Avery.” He took a dominant step forward and then another. He pushed her into the house and softly closed the door behind him.

  Maxine stumbled back on her bare feet. “Get out!”

  Hunter grabbed Maxine by the throat and brought her down. The floor was a mass of strings from where the underbelly of the carpet had been torn. The entire place was a mess.

  “You’ve been very bad, Mad Max.”

  Maxine clutched at his wrist, face trembling as he held tight to her throat. “What’s with the rage, honey? I reckon I should’ve brought you those dumbass happy pills they give me.” He stopped squeezing.

  “Fuck you, asshole. You’re here for Avery! She ruined my life.”

  With his free hand balled into a fist, Hunter gripped Maxine’s neck with one hand and bashed his fist straight into her forehead. Her body went limp. She was out cold. He dropped her then grabbed her hand, pulling her along until she was in the middle of the living room.

  Eyes narrowed, he stared down at her for a few seconds before moving around the house to see what else Maxine had been up to. He was careful not to touch anything, and with the tennis shoes that he’d bought off a transient right outside of Atlanta, he felt confident that he wouldn’t be leaving any evidence. Throughout the two-bedroom condo, everything was
a mess. The fireplace in her bedroom had been defaced. Along the wall in the bedroom, he gasped, seeing a pin board filled with pictures of Avery and a black man in a suit, the name Alex beneath it. He went closer and read it.

  “This bitch is crazy.” The words floated from his mouth. Yet, upon hearing those words, Hunter recalled Hawk’s rantings. Was his brother serious? The day Hawk dragged him from the bed and breakfast, Hunter assumed most of his argument was a lie. A reason to scare him away from Avery.

  Maxine had made a note about losing her job in March. She’d lost her job because of Avery? Now, she had to be out of her condo by the 31st of July.

  He scanned over Maxine’s notes about Alexander Castle and how he had friends in very high places. Whether she had started working her own conspiracies or not, Hunter did an about face and backed out of the bedroom.

  He bounded back down the stairs. Maxine roused awake as he stepped closer. She lifted onto her palms and hustled to her feet, pressing her body back away from him. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, bitch. I’m not gonna rape you.” He pushed against her, his body weight pressing her against the wall. This time he squeezed her throat until the fear in her eyes washed away.

  47

  Donavan

  Greg was no longer holing himself up in the upstairs of his home. Donavan found him in the den with a TV tray before his wheelchair. In the center on a plate was a large helping of Blue Bell ice cream and pecan pie. They hugged. The older man patted his back, and Donavan hitched a breath of relief that his father’s multiple sclerosis wasn’t screwing with him.

  “You better make yourself a plate, son, before there’s no more.” Greg’s hand shook as he forked up another bite.