by Anne Barwell
He paused on the stairs, his mind conjuring up a picture of Donovan in sweatpants and a T-shirt, perspiration dripping down his face, plastering damp hair to his forehead.
Oh crap.
Not helping. As much as Ethan was determined not to enter into another relationship, his hormones seemed to have other ideas. Would spending time with Donovan be such a bad thing? He was fun to be with, witty, and could hold his own in conversation—at least when they were actually having a conversation.
What was the worst that could happen? Apart from Donovan telling Ethan he didn’t want to see him again?
After all, it wouldn’t be another breakup. They weren’t in a relationship, so there was nothing to break up.
Another thought struck him, and he groaned aloud. Why hadn’t he thought of it before agreeing to this ridiculous idea? He couldn’t very well expect Donovan to bare his soul while Ethan continued to keep his own crap to himself. Fair was fair.
Wasn’t it?
Chapter 12
“YOU STARTED all this. You know that right?” Donovan rested his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths as he bent over Alice Finlay’s grave. “And yeah, I’m crazy talking to a lady who’s been dead for years, but… whatever.”
St. Aiden’s church had always been part of his route, but after Cathal’s disappearance, Donovan had gotten curious and looked for Alice’s grave. Since then, visiting it had become part of his routine. In a weird way, she was a constant in the mystery, although she had nothing at all to do with what was currently bugging the shit out of him. He usually ran in the morning, but he’d been in London then. He also needed to think, and running always helped him focus.
“You just missed young Mikey.”
Donovan spun at the voice behind him, his hands balled into fists, his body adopting a fighting stance. He backed down quickly when he saw who it was. “Sorry, Reverend. Didn’t anyone tell you it’s not a good idea to sneak up on people like that?”
“You were very distracted.” Reverend Matthew had been one of the first people to introduce himself to Donovan and Heidi when they’d arrived in Oakwood. He was in his sixties, but his red hair showed no sign of gray, and although Donovan wasn’t much of a churchgoer, they’d had some interesting discussions. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“I’m not one of your parishioners,” Donovan reminded him, “but thanks for the offer.”
“I meant as a friend, not a priest.” Reverend Matthew indicated the bench seat at the edge of the graveyard. “Would you like to sit for a while? I do have a pot of coffee brewing at the vicarage, if you’d like to join me. Alice has had a visitor today already, so I’m sure she’d understand if you didn’t linger. It’s chilly out.”
Fresh roses adorned her graveside. They were lavender colored and similar to those clinging to the outside wall of the inn. “Mikey didn’t strike me as a flower type of guy,” Donovan said. He presumed they were courtesy of Mikey, as the reverend had said he’d been there.
“He left them on behalf of his grandfather. We didn’t chat for long, as he was on his way to school. He’s a good lad.”
“Yes, he is. I’m not stopping long either, as I need to get home, but we can talk a few minutes, if you’d like. It’s not too cold for you out here?”
“I’m fine.” Matthew pulled his coat around himself. “I have coffee inside to warm me up when we’re done. You’re sure I can’t tempt you with some?”
Donovan chuckled. “You’re persistent, but no, thanks.” Despite the difference in age, Matthew had always reminded Donovan of the old guy who used to run the local garage back home. He’d already retired years ago by the time Donovan and his brother had gotten to know him, but still helped out by doing odd jobs for those who couldn’t afford much. They’d had a few conversations like the ones Donovan and Matthew shared, and he’d been one of the first people Donovan had come out to.
“You’re not usually someone I can sneak up on,” Matthew said. “I’m obviously honing my ninja skills.”
“I didn’t know that was part of your training.”
Matthew grinned. “I like to broaden my mind and my experiences. Life’s to be experienced, don’t you think?”
“There’s such a thing as too much experience.” Donovan stared straight ahead, but it wasn’t the gravestones in front of him he saw. Bodies jerking, a mother screaming….
The last few nightmares had been bad ones.
Why the hell was Ethan in his dreams? He hadn’t been there, didn’t know….
“Donovan,” Matthew said softly. “Excuse me for intruding, but you look… haunted. If I’m not the person you want to talk to, perhaps you need to find whoever is?”
“I’ve never spoken to anyone about this,” Donovan admitted, more to himself than to Matthew. “I’m…. not sure it’s a good idea.”
He couldn’t go on like this. But talking to someone… as much as he needed to… he didn’t want to see their reaction.
Not being able to let it out, that was the worst part.
But…. No. He couldn’t.
“Perhaps you’ll know when it is?” Matthew suggested. “You’re a good man, Donovan, but even good men have their demons, and often they can’t be exorcised without some help.” He flinched as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, that was definitely the wrong choice of words there. I just meant that sometimes there are things you can’t work through on your own. A burden shared and all that.”
“It’s okay, Reverend,” Donovan said. “I knew what you meant. Yeah, memories are a bit like that, I guess, especially the ones that won’t leave you alone.”
He’d already said far more than he’d intended. Lack of sleep was a serious pain in the ass, and although he’d slept better the night before than in weeks, he needed more than one night for it to make a difference. First he’d let someone creep up on him, and now he was talking about stuff better left unsaid.
“Yes, they are.” Fortunately Matthew didn’t press further, for which Donovan was grateful.
“You’re right.” Donovan stood and stretched. “It’s chilly out. Why don’t you go have your coffee? I’m going to finish my run and warm up that way.”
“My offer of coffee and someone to talk to is always there. Perhaps you’d consider a rain check for another time?”
“Sure. Talk to you later, okay?” Donovan blew out a breath, watching the white cloud form in front of his lips. “And thanks for the offer.”
Matthew smiled. “Anytime. Enjoy your run.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’ve never seen the appeal of it, but to each their own, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Donovan said. “Something like that.”
THE CHURCH steeple was visible from the inn, and Ethan figured if he followed the river, he wouldn’t get lost.
The grass felt damp underfoot, and he was thankful for his sturdy boots. The legs of his jeans were a little wet after a tramp through a particularly long patch. Once over the stile at the far end of the field, he stood for a moment, taking the time to admire the scenery. Green stretched in all directions, although he could see the road on the edge of it, a narrow band of gray disrupting the view of nature on either side of him.
Perhaps it would have been dryer and warmer to go that route, but Heidi had said Donovan ran next to the river, and Ethan didn’t want to miss him.
If he strained his eyes, he could see farmhouses scattered at intervals, but he wasn’t interested in them today. After buttoning the top of his jacket, Ethan tucked his scarf into it and watched his breath paint white clouds in front of him.
Hopefully Donovan was already on his way back to the inn, so Ethan wouldn’t need to spend too much time communing with nature. He much preferred a warm fire and a decent pot of tea.
His stomach rumbled, and he regretted his decision not to eat one of Heidi’s scones. He’d treat himself to a decent afternoon tea later, once this was over.
He was being ridiculous. It wasn’t as though he was he
ading off to face a firing squad. He was going to talk to a friend and explain a few things. That was all. And then, after Donovan walked away, Ethan’s life could go back to normal.
Apart from the fact that he’d already lost one friend and wasn’t in the mood to lose another quite so soon.
“Damn you, Tomas. This is all your fault,” Ethan muttered. At least Tomas had found his happy ending. Hadn’t he? Ethan shoved down the vision of his friend lying decomposing in a ditch somewhere. He wasn’t going to go there, not until he had to.
Admiring the scenery and letting his thoughts wander wouldn’t achieve anything either. Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he’d remembered his gloves, and strode through the grass toward the river. He could hear the water running, steady in some places, slower in others.
As he drew closer, he saw a figure in the distance, running toward him. No, not toward him, but heading for home.
Donovan had his head down and had picked up a decent pace. Ethan’s breath hitched when Donovan got close enough to see properly. He was dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt covered in damp spots, and he’d tied his sweater loosely around his waist by its sleeves. His fringe flopped forward across his face, and he kept his head down.
“Donovan,” Ethan said quietly, not sure whether he should disturb his friend’s concentration. What the hell was he thinking, coming out here to talk? Donovan probably didn’t want to speak to him anyway, at least not about anything that really mattered. Ethan had run hot and cold the last few days, swinging between making conversation and clamming up. If he was Donovan, he’d be pissed off.
Crap. He owed the man an explanation for his behavior, if nothing else.
“Donovan!” This time Ethan yelled Donovan’s name and waved.
Donovan picked up his pace after returning Ethan’s wave. Whatever happened now, there was no backing down. Ethan took a deep breath. No chickening out. He could do this.
A makeshift bench seat stood under a tree close to the riverbank. He ran his hand over the seat, checking it was dry. To his surprise he found there were tiny roses etched into the timber. The seat was old and apparently the result of someone who, many years ago, had had far too much time on his or her hands.
He sat down, silently thanking whoever had made the thing, and waited for Donovan to join him. Standing up while he and Donovan talked would be really awkward, even more so than it was already going to be.
“Hey,” Donovan said. He stood, his legs half-bent, resting his hands on his knees, and took a few deep breaths. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I didn’t think you were the running type.”
Ethan shuddered at the idea. “I’m not. Heidi told me where to find you, so here I am.”
“What can I help you with?” Donovan straightened but didn’t sit down. “You could have just waited till I got back to the inn. Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
“No. Yes.” Ethan took a deep breath. His heart raced, and his mouth was dry.
“Ethan?” Donovan frowned, looking concerned. He sat down next to Ethan. “You look flushed. You’re not ill, are you?”
“I’ve been an arse,” Ethan blurted out. He looked down. “I treated you like rubbish earlier, and not just then either, and I owe you an explanation.”
“Yeah, you did, but you don’t.” Something in Donovan’s voice made Ethan look up. “It takes two to tango, as the saying goes, and I haven’t exactly been forthcoming about my crap either.” He bit his lip. “I’m not being fair asking you stuff when I won’t tell you anything.”
“Hey, that was my line,” Ethan said, trying to keep his tone light. Shit, Donovan sounded upset. Ethan reached out without thinking and placed his hand over Donovan’s, which was shaking. What the fuck had he done in starting this conversation? “I should be asking if you’re okay.”
“Perhaps Heidi is right, and we’re just as bad as each other,” Donovan said.
“She told you that?” Ethan’s eyes widened. “That’s what she told me!”
Donovan shook his head, a hoarse chuckle escaping his lip. “That figures.” He sighed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m not sure….” He started to stand, but Ethan grabbed his arm.
“At least listen to what I have to say?” Ethan suggested. “If you don’t want to share your own stuff, that’s fine, but….”
I don’t want to see you hurting. You’re my friend, and I care about you.
But instead of saying the words, his voice trailed off.
“But?” Donovan asked tightly.
“Nothing.” Ethan removed his hand from Donovan’s arm and folded his own arms over his chest. He chewed on his lip. “You asked about that painting yesterday?”
Donovan nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Duncan Kinsey is my ex. We broke up a few months ago. We’d been together awhile, and I thought we had something, although….” Ethan shook his head. He could do this. “I came home early from work one day and found him in our bed with another man.”
“Ouch,” Donovan said. “What an idiot.”
Ethan wasn’t sure whether Donovan was referring to him or Duncan. Better not to know. “He’d always been self-absorbed, and we’d been arguing lately. I’d been working long hours, and he didn’t like it. I thought… we’d talked and I thought he understood.” He allowed the bitterness he felt to reflect in his voice. “After… afterwards I… I threw him out.”
“Crap,” Donovan said. “That sucks. I’m so sorry. The guy’s an idiot.”
“He’s the idiot?” Ethan looked at him blankly, unsure he’d heard correctly. “Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to get on with, and my communication skills are rubbish.”
“Did he tell you that?” Donovan sounded angry, which was… odd.
“Umm, yes, amongst other things.” Ethan didn’t know why he felt the need to defend what Duncan had said to him. “He was right. Sure, I have friends, but we don’t really keep in contact. Apart from Tomas, and well, you already know how well that’s going. He’s taken off and didn’t bother to tell me he’d found someone. Shit, I didn’t even know he was interested in anyone at all. I guess that’s the reason our friendship has lasted this long. Neither of us is good at this stuff, so if we have a disagreement, we just yell at each other and then move on.”
“Yeah, you’ve said that. All friendships are different, and if it works for you guys, then what’s the problem, right?”
“Right.” Ethan sighed. Having got this far, he was determined to keep going before he ran out of steam. “That text yesterday? That was Troy, the bloke I found in our bed with Duncan. Duncan told him, and pretty much everyone else, that we’d already broken up before they slept together, and get this… I cheated on him first and then couldn’t deal with the fact he’d found someone, so I threw him out.”
“Fucking asshole,” Donovan muttered. He clenched his fists. “You’ve been dealing with this alone, haven’t you? Well, you don’t have to anymore.” He hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “Vincent and Mitchell—they’re not taking Duncan’s side on this, are they?”
“Hell no,” Ethan said. “They know Duncan well enough not to listen to his bullshit. They’re good guys. Both of them.”
“Good.” Donovan got up and started to pace. “Thanks for telling me. I know… that must have been difficult. I… I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.” His voice softened. “You loved Duncan, didn’t you?”
“Once,” Ethan admitted, “but I think our love died a long time before all of this happened. Don’t get me wrong, he was good to me for most of the time we were together, but… he was one of those blokes who had to be right about everything. His way or the highway, as the saying goes. Once I started to disagree with him, our relationship went downhill, and fast. Add to that the fact he thought I wasn’t giving him enough attention, and I guess he figured he wanted someone who met his needs.”
“That last bit is bullshit,” Donovan said. “He sounds to me like an immature, self-centered idiot.”
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Ethan shrugged. “Yeah, I’d agree with the first bit of that, but the only idiotic thing he did was getting caught.”
“You’re not getting it, are you?” Donovan stopped pacing and met Ethan’s gaze directly. “I think anyone who had you in his arms and let you go is an idiot. You’re a good guy, you care about your friends, and you have a wonderfully dry sense of humor.”
It took a moment for Ethan to get his brain working enough to form words. “Really? You think that? Oh….”
“Yes, I think that. Really.” Donovan sighed, a resigned expression dropping like a curtain over his features. He sat down next to Ethan again. “I know that took a lot for you to share that with me.” He sighed, his voice choking. “I guess the reverend is right. I need to tell someone. Will you forgive me that it’s you?”
“Donovan?” Ethan was scared by the way he was acting. “What’s wrong?” Without thinking, he pulled Donovan into a hug and held him. Part of him was mortified he’d done it; the other didn’t want to let Donovan go. “Talk to me, please.”
“I thought you weren’t into hugging either.” Donovan cracked a feeble joke.
“I’m not. Usually. It felt like the right thing to do,” Ethan finished lamely. He let go reluctantly, figuring that was what Donovan wanted him to do or why mention it? However, he slipped one hand into Donovan’s. For some reason he felt he needed to keep Donovan close in some way, to protect him, although he had no clue from what.
Donovan squeezed his hand. “I care about you, Ethan,” he said. “I haven’t let myself care about someone for a very long time, not like this. I tried not to, but….” He shrugged.
“Heidi doesn’t count, then?” Ethan asked.
“Not like this.” Donovan let out a small snort. “You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot.” Ethan hoped like hell he was reading this right. “And yes, you’re growing on me too.”
Donovan smiled, but his eyes looked sad. “When you talked with Heidi this morning, how much did she tell you?”