by Kim Loraine
Heart in his throat, he stood rooted to the spot, waiting to hear more, and hoping he wouldn’t all at the same time.
“I know, Lena. Yes, I made a few calls to get the ball rolling. You know as well as I do, it’s not an easy process. This is going to change our lives.”
Fuck.
~ ~ ~
Valerie rolled her shoulders as she walked down the beach, enjoying the solitude and quiet. Donovan had been distant in a concerning way since their weekend getaway two weeks ago. She’d hoped their physical reconnection would bridge the gap she’d allowed to settle between them while she recovered, but so far, it seemed to have pushed him farther. Being married to a firefighter, she was used to some level of closed-off behavior. They had to compartmentalize to get back to normal after hard shifts, but this was different. He’d been cagey, avoiding opportunities for conversations, and any intimacy beyond chaste pecks on the lips.
She’d hurt him somehow while working through her own issues. But wasn’t she entitled to time? She’d lost their baby. Lost a piece of them. And things had been so good while they were in North Carolina.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, calling her attention from the worries in her marriage. Donovan’s name appeared on the screen as she opened the text message.
We need to talk.
Just those four simple words sent shivers down her spine. The chill had nothing to do with the cold autumn air.
As she walked through the door of their apartment, the first thing she noticed was the smell of scotch. That rich, warm scent held some of the worst memories in their relationship.
“Hey, hotshot. I didn’t know we were having a party.” She tried for light and breezy, but her stomach was in knots. “Couldn’t wait to get started?”
He stood in the kitchen with his hands braced on the counter. All she could see was his back, the tense muscles of his shoulders visible under the dark fabric of his shirt.
“I’ve been staring at this fucking glass of scotch for the last goddamned hour as I try to think of what to say to you.” His voice was tight, strained, and laced with pain.
Oh, God. What had happened?
“Donovan, what’s going on? Is someone hurt?”
He let out a bitter laugh before picking up the cup, filled to the brim with brown liquid. “You know what? Fuck it.” Tossing back the drink in one long swallow, he grimaced and slammed the glass on the counter so forcefully the cup cracked.
“Jesus, what happened?” she asked, taking a few steps closer to him.
“You. You fucking happened, Valerie.”
“Me?”
“I don’t know what else to do to fix us.” Raking a hand through his hair, he paced the floor. “I can’t go through life like this.”
“Like what?”
Anguished green eyes found hers. “Like any second we’re going to implode.”
Her throat tightened. How had he gotten to this point without her seeing it? “I don’t know where this is coming from.”
The muscles in his jaw clenched as she reached out. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why keep fucking with my emotions? You keep pulling me in every goddamn direction and I don’t know which way is up. You’re planning on leaving me. Why prolong it? Do you need to make it look like you at least tried? Does that make you feel better?”
Anger boiled in her blood at his accusation. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not the one who’s been distant lately. You barely look at me and certainly never touch me anymore.”
“Because you’ve got one foot out the fucking door already! Fuck, Valerie. I heard you on the phone. I’ve seen your browser history. Dammit! One crisis, and you’re contacting lawyers? I thought you were better than that. And then, you beg me to fuck you, you make me think we’re over the worst of it, but all along you’d started your goddamn research.”
She wanted to stop him, tell him he was wrong, but at the same time, she was livid. He continued barreling headlong into his tirade as the alcohol obviously loosened his tongue.
“Did you enjoy fucking me knowing we didn’t have any chance of getting pregnant? Was it good for you?” The venom in his voice brought angry tears to her eyes.
“How dare you.” Her words were low and controlled even though her shoulders shook with rage, and her heart burned with hurt. “You’re being an asshole, Donovan.”
He let out a harsh bark of laughter. “I’m not the one playing the victim. I wanted to have kids. I wanted a life with you. You’ve been unsure since before our wedding. You ran then. Maybe you should’ve kept running.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”
“Why? Because it’s the truth?”
“No. Because it’s not.”
Brushing past him, she took the bottle of scotch from the counter and opened it. Taking a swig, she shuddered before tipping the bottle over the sink.
“What the fuck? That’s a hundred-dollar bottle.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s a hundred dollars worth of shit that makes you act like a dick.”
“Goddammit, Valerie. Why do you even care?”
“You think I don’t care? Fine.” She walked toward the door, popping the top button on her blouse to show a little extra cleavage. “I’ll see you later. I’m sure I can find someone who can appreciate me at the Bar and Grill. It’s ladies’ night.”
The undiluted fury in his expression had her heart in her throat. He wouldn’t let her go, not even if there was a minute chance she’d make good on her threat. Donovan didn’t share. Excitement raced through her at the heat in his gaze, until he stepped forward with one hand raised and the other balled into a fist at his side. All she could see was Mick, her ex-boyfriend, his angry snarl and rough hand reaching for her before he hurt her. With a gasp, she backed away so quickly she slammed into the small china cabinet against the wall. Blinking hard to clear her head, she sagged as the memory faded and Donovan came back to her, reminding her she was safe. Mick was long gone.
A horrified look crossed her husband’s face as the sound of rattling glasses reverberated through the room. He moved backward, his hand immediately dropping to his side.
“Jesus Christ. I . . . I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wasn’t . . . I couldn’t . . .”
Tears pooled in her eyes. He would never hurt her and she knew it. But with that one movement, that slightly raised hand, she knew he’d just done something he’d never forgive himself for. Her step back had been instinct, a flashback, but he didn’t know that.
“Donovan, it’s okay.” She moved to touch his shoulder but he flinched away.
“No. It’s not fucking okay,” he muttered under his breath. Giving her a heartbreaking glance, he shoved a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re right to run.”
“I’m not running.”
“You don’t have to.” His low voice broke something inside her.
He refused to look at her as he walked past, his jaw tight and hands shoved in his pockets. With a heavy sigh he reached for the door. “I’ll never hurt you, Valerie. I won’t let myself.”
Without giving her the chance to respond, he left.
Chapter 7
Valerie moved through anger and disbelief as the hours turned to a solid day of waiting for Donovan to return. He wouldn’t leave her. Not again. He’d promised. But the longer she waited, the less confident she was that he’d come home.
Her phone rang from across the room as she stepped out of the shower. Dripping all over the hardwood floor, she raced to answer without checking to see who it was.
“Donovan? Where are you?”
“Um, no. It’s Sully. He’s here with me, though. Are you all right? He keeps babbling about hurting you.”
Relief mixed with anger flooded her. “I’m fine. He
didn’t do anything. We just had a misunderstanding.”
“You sure?” Sully didn’t sound convinced.
“Sully, Donovan would never lay a finger on me. You know that.”
Sighing, Sully cleared his throat. “You want me to bring him home? He doesn’t have his jeep.”
Her stomach twisted. She wanted her husband back, not this angry, distrusting version of him. And who’s to say he wouldn’t pick up and leave again. No. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to break her heart because of his issues with his father. He’d already given up on them before she’d had an opportunity to explain what had happened.
“Is he all right?”
“He is. I found him at Cups this morning. The idiot spent all damn night wandering around town. He looked pretty low, so I decided to spend the day with him. What’s going on with you guys?”
“Rough patch.” She didn’t know what else to say. How much had Donovan shared with the guys at the station? Did they know the extent of her hospital stay? Surely he’d shared how severe it had been.
Sully’s gruff voice broke through her thoughts. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Sully. I’m glad he’s got you guys.”
Sully sighed. “I’m glad he has you.”
Her heart split at that. He didn’t have her. Not in the way she’d thought. Knowing this was the hardest decision she’d ever have to make, she forced back the sob tearing at her chest. After hanging up, she took a shuddering breath and pulled a suitcase from the closet.
~ ~ ~
Donovan stood outside the door to his apartment, an ache in his chest. Sully had talked sense into him over the course of the day, and he was ready to talk—really talk—things out with his wife. He loved her so damn much, and the notion of losing her made him irrational. Raising his hand had happened without conscious thought; just a reaction out of frustration. He hadn’t had any intention of hitting her during their heated argument and he knew that in his bones, but the fear in her eyes had sent him spiraling. He’d spent his life watching that same look appear on his mother’s face, only his dad put it there on purpose, leaving bruises for over twenty years. Until the man had finally killed her.
To see that expression on Valerie’s face had broken something deep inside him.
His hand shook as he opened the door, but he was prepared to do anything he could to make things right with her. “Sweetheart?”
The empty living room sent his mind racing. But something in his chest eased when she appeared in the doorway of their bedroom.
“I’m here.” Her voice was hoarse, eyes red and puffy.
Shit. He’d done that. He’d made her cry.
“I’m sorry.” The words were a strained whisper, making him clear his throat before he could continue. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Shaking her head, she stepped forward, pulling a suitcase behind her.
No. No. No. She wasn’t fucking leaving. Not until he’d done all he could to save them.
“You promised me you’d never leave again, Donovan. You promised. But the first time things weren’t steady you bolted.”
“I didn’t leave.”
She blinked, freeing a fresh trail of tears down her cheeks. “You did. Over twenty-four hours without a word from you. I called, texted. Nothing.”
“I just . . . I needed to cool off.”
“That’s not how this marriage thing works. We fight, we talk. We don’t leave.”
“You were already leaving.” Desperation clawed at his throat, making his voice crack.
“No. I wasn’t.”
“What about the phone calls with Lena? I heard you talking about making arrangements. Lena almost divorced Michael last year, and after you talked to her I see you’ve been researching lawyers.”
“The phone calls? They were about a fertility specialist Lena knows. The lawyers? They’re adoption attorneys. I was trying to move forward. To give us some options so that after . . . what happened didn’t hurt so damn bad, we could start working on those five or six kids we want.”
A sinking feeling took hold in his gut. He’d jumped to conclusions. He hadn’t trusted her.
“I . . . I didn’t think—”
“No. You didn’t. All you could see was me leaving. Is that how weak our relationship is?”
“You can’t go, Valerie.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. You are.” Shoving the suitcase at him with shaking hands, she stared him down. Her blue eyes burned with hurt and anger. “I need time to figure this out. So do you. But Donovan, I don’t know if this is fixable. Trust is a two-way street and the foundation of a marriage. You obviously don’t trust me enough to know I wouldn’t hurt you like that. And you don’t respect me enough to honor your promises.”
His throat was so tight with emotion he had to clear it before he spoke. “I was coming back.”
“There’s so much more to this than you running. The fact that you can’t see it just proves we need time apart.”
“Sweetheart, don’t do thi—”
“No, Donovan. Get out.” Her eyes hardened as she spoke. “I can’t be with a man I don’t trust.”
Shit. Those words combined with the pain in her eyes knocked the wind out of him. His chest tightened even farther as she shoved past him and pulled open the door. Leaving his suitcase in the hall, she walked back inside and stood with her arms crossed over her chest. He reached out for her but she flinched away.
“Don’t make this harder. If you touch me, I’ll give in.”
“Good. I want you to fucking give in. You love me.”
Her brow furrowed as she closed her eyes and breathed deep. “I do. But love isn’t enough to keep a marriage together.” Shaking her head, she trained her gaze on him. “I packed all your uniforms. You shouldn’t need to come back for anything. Don’t call me.” Her voice shook as she continued. “Don’t come to see me. I need to clear my head before deciding anything.”
“What the fuck do you mean, decide anything?”
“Just go.” Lower lip trembling, she dropped her gaze.
Again he reached for her, and again she flinched. He’d ruined them with one misplaced action. She was afraid he was going to hurt her. And deep down, so was he.
Stepping away, he pushed his desperate need to hold her to the back of his mind. She needed him gone. And it killed him. The door closed behind him as soon as he was over the threshold. Pain washed over him at the faint sound of her sobs from the other side of the door.
Gripping his luggage tight, he made his way to the parking lot. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding with every step. The more distance between them, the worse he felt. Throwing the bag into the back of the jeep, he cursed as the handle broke.
“Fuck!” Where the hell was he going to stay? He couldn’t afford a hotel, not for more than a night anyway. His boat was in the hands of his older brother for the next six months, so he couldn’t stay there.
Starting his car, he drove to the only place he knew he had a bed. Station 31.
A-shift was on duty, the guys he’d spent plenty of hours working and training with. They wouldn’t bat an eye at him being here, at least for one night.
“Miller, what’s got you in here on a day off?” Captain Justin Stone cocked an eyebrow as Donovan lugged his bag behind him. Shit.
Justin was the equivalent of the star QB and all-around Boy Scout of the station. The man had an answer for everything. Everyone held on to a little bit of hero worship when it came to him, and Donovan was no exception.
“Need a place to stay a few nights.”
Justin laughed before catching on that Donovan was completely serious. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. You need someone to talk to?”
Gritting
his teeth, Donovan shook his head. The last thing he needed was another perfect fucking marriage thrown in his face.
Justin and Sara had been married twenty years. Twenty perfect years, three kids, and an upwardly mobile career. He had always seen himself and Valerie in the same place two decades from now. But things had taken a nosedive and now he was here, sleeping at the goddamn firehouse.
“Let me know if there’s any OT coming up, will you?” He couldn’t meet Justin’s eyes. “I’ll be around.”
“Sure, Miller.” Shoulders tight, Donovan watched the older man walk down the hall. “Chief won’t want you staying longer than few nights if you’re not on duty. You’re welcome to crash with Sara and me.”
The idea of watching the Stones in their bubble of happiness made irrational jealousy spike in his chest.
“I’m cool, Captain. I’ll be back home before long.”
With a nod, Justin wandered through the door to the captain’s office.
Settling himself in the empty quarters, Donovan lay across the twin-sized bed and closed his eyes, wishing he could will away the pain in his temples and the burn in his chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to resist the urge to call her.
Fuck. If Klipper were still alive, he’d have some insightful words of wisdom to share. The man spent most of his life pretending to be an asshole. In reality, Tommy Klipper cared a lot more than anyone gave him credit for. What would Klip say if he saw Donovan like this? Probably something along the lines of, “Donovan Miller, pussy whipped by a woman half his size.” And after laughing his ass off, Klip would have gotten down to business and told Donovan to fight for her. That letting her get her way would be the absolute stupidest thing he could do.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he typed a message, deleted it, and typed another. He repeated this three more times before finally settling on a single line of text.