Davenport Harbor (Six Degrees Book 3)

by Statham, Mayra

  “Why?” He clipped and I shrugged.

  “I just think its better this way.”

  “For whom?”

  “Mr. Davenport.”

  “What the fuck, Anne?” He growled. Stepping back, I glanced over my shoulder.

  “Mr. Davenport—” Before I could say anything else, his arms wrapped around my middle. I fought my body so it didn’t soften against him.

  “I’m sorry. Please.” His face was in my neck. I failed to win the battle within and softened beneath the hold he had on me, knowing he could feel it. He turned me around, wrapping me close. I held on tightly.

  “I’m the world’s biggest jerk, Kitten. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  “I just think it’s better to put space between our worlds.”

  “Our worlds?” His frown was deep. His hands let go of me, making me miss them instantly.

  “Yeah.” He stared at me. The pain in his face made my heart hurt.

  “Is Bernadette still coming over tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nick Riley?” His jaw twitched and I shook my head.

  “No,” I answered softly. Take me in your arms and tell me you’re sorry again. Fight for me.

  “Am I still invited?”

  “I…” I wanted to say yes. “I didn’t think you would want to be.”

  “What?”

  “I’m just your housekeeper.” My nose flared in anger. How dare he put this on me?

  “You’re more than my God-damn housekeeper and you know it!” He hissed. The space was still between us.

  “Yeah, you’re live-in whore or live-in escort. Whatever, I can’t do this. It is better if…”

  “What did you just say?” His whispered tone was menacing, but I didn’t care.

  “You heard me. You’re old, but not that old,” I clipped back, and he immediately closed the space between us, lifting my body up onto the countertop.

  “You are not my live-in whore,” he told me as he was holding my face in both hands. I fought the tears in my eyes.

  “You said I was just your—”

  “I’m an idiot!” His eyes were wide, my shoulders slumped forward, our foreheads touched. “I’ve missed you,” he groaned and I sniffled, pretending I wasn’t crying and making a fool out of myself in front of him. “Please don’t cry, Kitten.”

  John

  “You hurt me,” she whispered, her breath hitching slightly, and I hated myself.

  “I…” I felt helpless and only held her closer to me. We stayed like that for a bit until she shook her head.

  “We’re going to cut the cake at six, if you want to be there.” She pushed me away and hopped off the counter, grabbing Zoey. Then she walked out of the main house. I kept watching them as they walked back to the guest house. My hands on my head, I lowered one to rub my face. Sleep had been futile without her next to me.

  ***

  At six sharp, I knocked on the door and was surprised when Bernadette answered and, looking down at my hands, nodded her head politely.

  “Mr. Davenport.”

  “Bernadette.” She opened her mouth, but closed it, shaking her head before she turned back.

  “I’ll see you later, Anne.”

  “Okay.” Anne came to the door, her eyes not moving off of me.

  Bernadette waved goodbye to me, and I turned to look at Anne.

  “You said six.”

  “I did, please come in.”

  I looked at the small pizza box on the counter and uncut and obviously homemade cake on the table.

  “Zoey fell asleep.”

  “Oh.” I raised the package I had in my hand that was wrapped in pink and purple princess paper, handing it to Anne.

  “This is for the birthday girl.”

  “Thank you. Mr.—”

  “Don’t do this again. It’s just John. Please. I fucked up.”

  “I was going to say that Mr. Campbell, my old neighbor, used to make this punch for his family when they had birthdays. I made some. Would you like a glass?”

  I looked at her and wanted her in my arms, so I brought her close and sat down on the couch, her body on my lap.

  “Don’t give up on me,” I begged her, and she stiffened slightly. For a moment, I worried she was going to push me away, she was going to say I messed up beyond repair. But she didn’t. She was too kind. She wrapped her arms around me and we held one another tightly. Maybe I can fix this? Maybe I can give them more? Maybe I have it in me to fall in love.

  Chapter Thirty

  John

  I can hear her crying from her room. No not this, not this dream!

  I watch Grace open the door, taking Alice away. Her mossy green eyes fill with tears. Her face is wet and red from the screams. Her little thin arms are reaching out for me, but Grace won’t let me hold her. Grace takes her away. She isn’t mine, she tells me, but she is. Alice is mine in every way that matters.

  Everything is swirling and my head is dizzy, spinning. Sitting in a pew, a huge congregation around me, I fight to wake up, but I can’t. Stuck in my nightmare from a past that won’t ever go away.

  I can’t help but look towards the end of the aisle. Every fucking time I think I’m prepared, and every fucking time I’m wrong. My heart hurts just staring at the tiny little casket at the end of the aisle. Mossy green eyes that are closed forever and will never open again. Green eyes that will never smile brightly at me again.

  My head is quiet, too quiet. But if I try, I can still hear her cries. Her giggles! Her babbles! See her eyes! Those beautiful mossy green eyes that I couldn’t save.

  Mossy green eyes turn into bright blue eyes and blond tiny wisps turn into dark brown curls.

  It’s no longer my past. No longer Grace and Alice, but Anne and Zoey.

  Anne and Zoey.

  My heart feels full, but I’m still out of my body. Anne and Zoey, they make everything right. At the front door, Zoey disappears from my sight and Anne’s body is suddenly in a stark white bathtub filled with red water, her hazel eyes open and dead, no longer seeing the world…. just like Grace.

  I jumped up in bed, my heart pounding in my ears, cold sweat running down my forehead and my back.

  “John?” Anne’s voice startled me, and I looked at her lying beside me with worry in her eyes. “Baby? You okay?” Her voice was raspy with sleep as her warm fingers touched my chest, and I covered her hand with mine. It was a nightmare, just a fucking nightmare.

  “Yeah, Kitten.” Her pretty face was filled with concern, and I tried to smile. “I’m going to go get water. You need anything?”

  “No.” She sat up, bringing the sheet over her chest. She was fully dressed, and we were lying in her bed at the guest house. I kissed her forehead before walking out of the room.

  Grabbing a glass of cold water, I downed it as I looked around the small kitchen. My eyes landed on the calendar and my stomach sunk as I realized that we were now officially in May.

  I shook my head. I’d almost missed it. For the first time, I’d almost missed the anniversary of...Don’t go there, Johnny Boy! Two more weeks! My nightmares made sense. My mind was never letting me forget. My eyes burned as I tried to push down the ugliness of the past.

  I willed myself to return to the bedroom and saw Anne sitting up still, waiting for me. Her big eyes were on me, watching me.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I cleared my throat and opened my mouth, wanting to tell her. Tell her about it, about them, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t give her that part of me. I couldn’t give that to anyone. “Let’s go to bed.” I sat in bed, and she instantly curled into me, her head on my chest, her hand over my waist, my hands playing with the tips of her soft hair, then switching to move to touch her back. Caressing her, I kissed the top of her head in the darkened room, letting the darkness fill me up, trying to forget everything. I felt it when her body relaxed, when it softened against mine as her breathing evened out, so soft and slow. I kissed the top of her head a
nd looked down at that moment and saw a tender smile fall upon her lips. I started to calm down.

  “I love you, John,” she whispered in her sleep, and my gut clenched and any calm I felt a second ago, now ran ice cold through my body. She can’t love me! Anxiety and moss-colored eyes filled my mind. She loved me and I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t help her. Unable to breathe, I somehow slipped out of bed without waking Anne up. Pacing the small room quietly, I looked out the window and then towards her. She was so damn beautiful. So damn beautiful it hurt not to be around her. I knelt in front of her and watched her sleep. My heart was hammering away simultaneously in my chest and ears, yet was soothed by being around her. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I love her. I fucking love her. Shit. Shit!

  My breath left me and I stood, rubbing my face, letting my hands go to my head. Taking a deep breath, I walked to the doorway of Zoey’s room. Her little body was relaxed in her own sleep, her sweet chubby little hands next to her pretty little face. I love her, too. Fuck! I loved her as if she were mine.

  Panic hit me and I left the guest house, locking it up tightly before heading to the main house to pack a suitcase and get the hell out of there before I ruined their lives, too.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Anne

  The heart was a silly, stupid thing. A week had passed since Zoey’s birthday. A week since he’d asked me not to give up on him. It was also a week since he’d screamed in his sleep and had woken up hard.

  It was also a week since he’d left me sleeping in bed and hadn’t been back.

  He’d emailed me that afternoon. In his short message he’d told me not to worry about cooking or the house. He’d be gone for work and he would have Bernadette call and let me know when he would be back.

  He’d asked me not to give up, but he was giving up.

  I’d tried to stay hopeful somehow, but by the end of the week, it was useless. I looked at the hidden coffee jar and counted the money I had set aside. I had enough to get Zoey and me far enough away that I didn’t have to worry about looking over my shoulder every time a shadow crossed over us. I was even thinking of maybe going back home to Iowa, maybe somehow get my family to talk to me again. But the heart was foolish, and mine was also stubborn. It was somehow still holding on, hoping that whatever spooked John would wear off and he’d return to us.

  ***

  Nick Riley stopped by with a heavy envelope filled with cash.

  He’d hired me for a couple more jobs. I’d done them and he’d seemed impressed. He also seemed concerned, and it was obvious that I missed John.

  I tried to smile and pretend that somehow the beast of the house not being there didn’t affect me. But it was useless.

  I tried to forget the safe way John had made me feel; I tried to forget how much I loved him, but it was all in vain. What I felt for John was stronger than what I’d felt for Blake.

  Blake, I’d come to realize, had been a stupid young woman’s fairy tale gone wrong. The first time I had caught someone’s eye. I’d been flattered. I hadn’t really loved him. I’d let myself fall for the idea of him, more in love with being IN love than actually being in love.

  I loved John. It was as real and strong as it was painful. Ten days with him gone made my heart more than ache, and I was worried about him. Worried about what he could have dreamt that was horrible enough to take him away from us; worried about what he could have dreamt that made him wake up with that look in his eyes. A look I didn’t think I would ever forget.

  John

  Eleven fucking days. Eleven fucking days since I left home. Home. When the hell had that become home instead of a house? Or a place for me to sleep? She made it a home. They both do.

  Thinking about them reminded me that it was eleven days since I’d left and that since then, I’ve felt like I left a limb behind. Eleven days that I’d been hiding like a coward at Chateau Marmont. Each night, the dreams were getting worse: I saw mossy green eyes that turned into hazel or blue; I had nightmares that made me sick to my stomach. And when I didn’t have nightmares, I had dreams. Beautiful dreams. Dreams unlike any I had ever had. About Anne and Zoey with me, growing older, my life being happier than I thought possible; little ones playing around the three of us; some looking like me, but most of them looking like Anne. And when I woke up from those dreams I knew I’d love that, would love for those little people to look like her. Every dream ended the same way, with my kitten looking at me and saying, “I love you, John.”

  Those four words muttered in her sleep have been driving me insane. Sleep was unattainable once I woke up, and each time, no matter if I had a nightmare or a beautiful dream, I woke up reaching for her. I shook my head as I drank my coffee and sat on the small couch in my room. I was still wearing my work suit as I looked into the stark darkness of the room. I sat with no lights on, just drank my coffee, hoping that it would keep me from falling asleep; that it would help keep the nightmares at bay; that it would keep the dreams away. Yet I could still hear her sleepy voice say, “I love you, John.”

  A wave of rage swept over me, making me throw my mug across the room. The mug shattered, splashing the coffee all over the walls. I put my face in my hands, elbows to my knees. The past was swimming in my head, the past that was such a long fucking time ago, clashing with the present; inevitably messing up my future. My head was throbbing from lack of sleep and too many thoughts when my phone rang and I looked at it. Hoping that it was Anne, but knowing that it wouldn’t be. She hadn’t called. She had only responded to my e-mails. Belle calling, my phone announced. I pressed ‘ignore’.

  I wondered what Anne must be thinking, about me disappearing for so long right after I’d asked her, no begged her, not to give up on me. Had she? She should. If she was smart, she’d given up on me and not spared me a second thought. I wasn’t worth it. I was not worth her worry or her love. My phone rang again and again. It was Belle, and just like that I had an idea. I needed Anne to realize the kind of man I was. “The man you were,” I heard her voice in my head and tried to shake it away. She needed a reminder, we both did.

  “Davenport.”

  “What is going on with you?” Belle asked.

  “Why?”

  “You’ve been holed up in the Chateau for almost two weeks.” I closed my eyes, wondering how the hell she knew that.

  “Why do you care, Belle?”

  “We’re friends,” her voice was slightly uncertain, and I found that interesting. “Plus with Anne … I thought everything was going well?”

  “I’m not talking about this with you. How the hell do you know I’m here anyhow?”

  “I have eyes everywhere, John. I know this time of year is particularly… difficult.” Her voice softened with every word and I sat up. What the fuck was it with these women? Not just women, Mike had been calling every day, too, especially when he’d found out I’d left the hill.

  “I’m fine,” I clipped, “I was actually going to call you.”

  “You were?” She asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. I need a couple girls. Tomorrow night. Gretchen and Serena and someone else… someone bitchy.”

  “Bitchy?”

  “Yeah. Just for dinner. That needs to be clear. JUST DINNER. I don’t want to fuck them. They need to be dressed like they are in one of your VIP rooms, skimpy, showing lots of skin.”

  “What are you doing, John?” She asked, her voice cold.

  “Reminding myself of who I am,” I told her, and the line went quiet until she finally spoke again.

  “Will she be there?” She asked cautiously.

  “She’s my housekeeper, Belle, she’ll be serving dinner,” I told her. My voice was cold as my stomach rolled at the image of my kitten being anywhere close to them. I heard Belle’s gasp, which surprised me. Belle was not one to be easily shocked.

  “John.”

  “Don’t. Can you get them there or not?”

  “She’s been through a lot, John.”

 
; “That is exactly why she shouldn’t pin her hopes and dreams on me, Belle. I’m not that kind of man.” The moment the words fell out of my mouth, the vision of those dreams came back. Little dark haired children, all of us sitting in the family room of the house, watching movies, finger print art decorating the walls better than a Picasso. I shook my head, stood, and headed over to the crystal bottles of amber liquid that were calling my name.

  “John.”

  “Can you deliver that or not? If not, I’m sure I can find someone else who can.”

  “I saw you around her,” she blurted, and something tightened in my stomach and I stared at the bottles in front of me like a lifesaver.

  “And?”

  “And I know this time of year gets to you. I get it.” Her voice turned colder, “I get it because I get the same damn way around the end of September; I get it because I get that way whenever I watch the leaves turn to red hues in the fall. The way sometimes something so small as the sight of red hair or a pair of dark eyes can bring back so many memories. Ones that hurt from the inside out,” she admitted, and my hand curled around the top of the bottle. “I don’t know what demons you hide from, but I know they come out to play around the middle of May. I’ve seen it.” She laughed humorlessly. “I’ve known you for years, Davenport, do you think I got to where I am by NOT paying attention? Please…Just stop and think about this.”

  “Nothing to think about, Belle,” I answered immediately and heard her sigh.

  “Fine. Just remember that there are some decisions we can’t take back. We both know about that.”

  “Great. Thanks for the pep talk, mother hen, have them arrive at nine.”

  “John," she called out before I ended the call and I stayed quiet, my mind running, my stomach rolling. “You can call me to cancel this at any time. I’ll cover the cost of it. I’d pay them. I’d be more than happy to pay them out of my own pocket if you cancel, just so that you don’t mess up whatever you have going on with her.” With that she ended the call. My hand left the bottle I’d been holding on to tightly, and I headed back to the couch and just sat.