Come Home Again (The Donovans)

by Nana Malone

  Nate stumbled back a step but caught it easily. The video was already in playback, and the walls started to push in, and the floor threatened to tilt. This video was the reason he'd preferred to be on the streets than home with his mother. The one thing Trent had on him. The one reason Nate had stayed hidden.

  Nate tried to breath, but every attempt felt like he sucked in sawdust that scratched and scarred his lungs. The memory intruded on the present, and the world grayed until he saw nothing but that day he'd been twelve. His mother's john lurching toward him, drunk, high, stinking of booze and that too sweet perfume his mother liked to wear.

  Bile rose in Nate’s throat as he thought of the way his thick, meaty hands had grabbed at him. The voice that gave him nightmares rang in his head, as clear as if it was happening now, not fifteen years ago.

  "Come on, Nate. If you give me what I want, I'll buy you a video game. Something for something. You know how it works. Just come here.”

  Sweat popped on his brow as he shook his head. "No. I won't. You get out and leave me alone."

  Cy’s face had contorted into a mask of anger. Gone was the cajoling. Instead, he spat in Nate's face. The sound of the knife flicking open echoed like a rocket taking off. The sweating hulk threatening him with the knife. Nate did the only thing he knew how—he aimed to run. But he'd been caught around the waist. Then he'd remembered the defense moves he'd learned at the rec center. He stepped on the guy's instep and snagged his wrist.

  What had happened next had haunted him for years. The brute lunged toward Nate. The sickening sound the knife made as it sank into flesh. The smell of the blood in the air, like rust. The sticky feel of it on his hands. The weight of the body as it fell on him.

  Ross snapped his fingers, bringing Nate out of the stranglehold of the past. "You see, asshole, I own you."

  Nate stumbled back, fear clawing at him, urging him to run. But he couldn’t run. Chase was depending on him. Nate had fought to keep something he desperately wanted. He wasn't going to run. "What do you want?"

  Ross smiled. "Oh, it's very easy really. I want the only thing you have left. Or rather, I don’t want you to have it. You stay away from Delilah, and she never sees this. And I leave Manning alone." He inclined his head toward Trent. “As for your brother, well he just wants money.”

  Sweat beaded on Nate’s brow. Chase was depending on him. And Delilah, Ross was clearly obsessed with her. He had to protect her. Dragging in a deep breath, he mentally shoved the scared kid aside. He met Ross’s gaze levelly. “Then you two had better prepare yourself for disappointment. I’m not staying away from her, nor am I paying you off. I’m done with the bullshit.”

  Ross’s face turned beet red as he sputtered. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” Nate crossed his arms. “Do what you have to do. I’m not staying away from her.” He and Delilah were long overdue for truth and disclosure. He was going to tell her everything. He’d make her listen somehow. And he could protect Chase. He would find a way. Operating from fear was what had landed him in the shadows. He wasn’t doing that anymore.

  Ross launched himself out of the chair, stopping just short of Nate’s face. “Maybe you don’t understand,” he spat. “Manning will lose everything.”

  Nate wiped the spittle off his face with the back of his hand. “Oh no, I understand, Ross. But you’ve been given too much lead on your leash. You keep yanking it, and it’s bound to choke you.” His fist connected with Ross’s nose swiftly. The soft crunching sound filled the tense space and blood spattered as Ross landed in a heap. Nate crouched beside him. “I think you’re fishing. If you had information on Chase, you would have used it by now. And you see, I’m very good. There’s no trace of where he’s gone or why. The Mannings are very private. So all you could leak would be speculation. Profits are up, and the board has confidence in me as the CEO. No matter what happens, he’s coming back to the company he built. I’m seeing to that.”

  Ross mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “Fuck you.”

  Nate approached his brother, who straightened and met his gaze with a slightly tilted chin. Trent’s movements were quick as he tried to land a punch. But Nate was faster. Trent’s knees gave out, and he sank to the floor next to Ross.

  Trent gingerly touched his jaw. “Fuck you, Nate. All these years you’ve told yourself that I’m the problem. But we both know it’s not true.”

  Nate clenched his jaw. “No, Trent, you’re right, I am the problem. I’ve been ashamed of you most of my life. I saw myself in you. And I tried to run from it. But you made all the wrong choices. You’ve been making all the wrong choices for so long, you can’t even tell what the right choices are. I am not you. You are not me. And that shit we went through as kids, that doesn’t define me.” He studied his brother still lying supine on the ground. “Our past doesn’t define me. You don’t define me.”

  As he took the stairs back down to the parking lot, it was like he had retroactive goggles with the ability to see every crossroads where he’d chosen wrong starting with the night of Delilah’s birthday.

  If only he’d made the decision to kiss her like he’d wanted to back then. Or even simply made the decision not to run. What would have happened if he’d believed Sarah and John when they said he was part of their family?

  He thought about not telling Delilah about Trent and the extortion. Worst of them all, he’d shut her out. Had been shutting her out. She was right—he couldn’t do everything alone. But instead of letting her help him, he’d pushed her away.

  He checked his watch. He was over an hour and a half late. Shit. He’d fucked this up. But he had to talk to her. Had to explain. He would make her understand.

  The only decision he’d made right was following her home to Hope. But he still had some unfinished business there. If he didn't want to be his past, he had to do some things differently.

  ###

  Delilah paced as she supervised the cleanup of the private room the restaurant had set up for her. She’d called Nate more times than she had fingers to count on, and all her messages had gone straight to voicemail.

  Fear curled around her heart and rooted there. Where was he? Had he taken some back street and had an accident on his bike? She’d already called the hospitals to check if he’d been brought in. But nothing.

  The last she’d heard from him was the message he’d left her right after the vote. She’d even called Lach looking for him.

  “Lila.”

  She whirled at the sound of her nickname. Without even thinking, she ran right up to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, thank God.” Adrenaline flooded her veins, and her breath came out in pants. “I was so worried. I’ve left you at least a dozen messages. I even called hospitals. Jesus, you scared me.”

  “Lila, I’m so sorry. I should have called, but there was no time. I got here as soon as I could.”

  Slowly, her brain came online and took over from her heart. He was fine. In one piece. Appeared to have all his fingers and toes. So where the hell had he been? She backed away and let him go. “Nate, where have you been?”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. The Trent thing came back to haunt me. The little shit is working with Ross.”

  As he recounted his story, she stared at him, numb and unable to move. “Nate, you realize I had to juggle Rolling Stone and the winners, and I had no idea where you were or if you were even going to show up.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I should have called, but by the time I was able to, it was already so late. I will make this up to you. I swear to God.”

  “You’ll make it up to me? Nate, this interview wasn’t for me. It was for you. I called in every favor I could to make this happen. For you. And you couldn’t even call?”

  “Shit. Lila. Ross had me by the balls. He threatened to release to the media the real reason Chase is on medical leave. I had to choose.”

  Delilah sighed. “Did you even think to call me? I fix things for a living, remember? If you’d just called
, we could have come up with a plan together. Instead, you left me drifting in the wind.”

  “I figured I’d handle it and get down here to you. Look, I know I handled this all wrong. I should have called. But I figured I’d be faster on my own.”

  “That’s the problem, Nate, your default is to do everything on your own. You shut me out when you don’t have to. When it’s actually in your best interest not to. We had a deal, you and me. You trust me, and I trust you. And at the core of it, it feels like you don’t trust me. And after tonight, it feels like I can’t depend on you.”

  He hung his head. “This is not how I wanted this night to go.”

  Her heart squeezed. “Nate, I can’t do this. You will always choose to shut me out.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. You’ve been showing me signs from day one, and I didn’t want to listen. But I get it now.”

  “Lila.”

  She took a deliberate step back from him. “Please go.” Fire burned in her gut as the bile rose. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Chapter 29

  How the hell had he fucked up so badly? Nate had ridden home in a numb haze. He thanked God for his brain’s autopilot function because without it, he could have easily had an accident.

  With leaden feet, he trudged to his apartment. He was tempted to head for a bottle of scotch he kept mostly for visitors, but he knew he wasn't going to solve his problems at the bottom of a bottle like his mother had. It didn’t matter that he'd lost the one thing that had ever mattered to him. In another couple of weeks Chase would be back, and he wouldn’t be CEO anymore.

  He should have been celebrating. He’d pulled off the craziest month of his life. He’d managed to convince the world that he was a CEO. The emperor had no clothes, and he’d managed to make the world believe he wore an Armani Suit. Before he’d stepped into this role, he’d been happy enough. His life was good. He liked his life. But now, he liked the idea of not living a half-life. He liked the man Delilah had molded him into. But he’d fucked it up by trying to handle everything himself. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t an island, and he’d blocked out the only person who’d ever loved him.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. Delilah was gone for now, but it didn't mean he was giving up. First things first. He checked the false identity he’d created for Chase. It was still solid. No one had gone poking around him or the rehab facility. His friend’s anonymity was still secure.

  But there was something about the whole Ross thing that bugged Nate. The guy was a grade A asshole. There was no way in hell he would hold onto the video. Especially if he thought it would drive a wedge between Nate and Delilah. He would have leaked it. Nate started digging. He’d gone back as far as he could electronically, looking for any information on the night he’d hit the streets. Unsolved stabbings and murders mostly. He hadn’t been able to find anything that resembled his crime. But the more he dug, the more he recognized that some districts in Syracuse still hadn’t brought paper records online. If he wanted answers, he’d need a cop.

  ###

  "You want to take it easy on that ice-cream?"

  Delilah halted her spoon in her rocky road to glare at Willow. "What? I'm a stress eater. Are we going to forget how you demolished a stack of Cadbury’s candy bars after your last break up? I'm only on my second carton."

  Willow winced. "Okay, fair enough, but I don’t want you to undo all your workouts. You’ll be mad about it later." She chewed her lip. "Maybe if you explained again what he said exactly."

  Delilah scooped another spoonful into her mouth and tried to enjoy the sweet flavor. But the hit of sugar fell flat. "He said he was sorry, but, God. I mean, he doesn’t communicate, and instead of telling me things so we can work out solutions together, he always goes it alone. Like he’s an island. And God, I was counting on him to be there. He knew it was important, and he left me twisting in the wind. Didn’t even call. I called hospitals, I was so damn worried. I keep thinking I can change him that he’s going to be this guy who’s open with me and communicates and who is dependable, but at the end of the day that’s not him. I’m the moron who fell in love with someone who isn’t right for me."

  Willow patted her knee. "Honey, comforting isn't really in my wheelhouse, but I will kill him for the pleasure of watching him die."

  Willow was a good friend. "No need." Delilah tried another bite of ice-cream and then gave up. It wasn’t helping, and Willow was right—she'd have to make up for the caloric overload in sparring class. "I was just so sure. I saw him. Or the version of him I wanted to believe. I'm so stupid." But you saw it. He cares about you. She shoved the thought aside.

  "No. Stop that. I will not have you doubting yourself. This is all him and not you. You have to know that." Willow hesitated. “But maybe he had a good reason for not calling. I mean he rides a bike, not like he can call on the road.”

  “But at any point during the night he could have made different choices. I mean I clearly can’t pick them. He's not the first guy to go running, right? The last asshole preferred men, the one before him had a wife, and the one before that had commitment issues. At some point I have to accept that I have Tiana Simmons syndrome. You know, like the actress. Where I date all these assholes and assume they’re the problem, when all along it’s me. I'm the problem. I'm the one picking wrong. I keep saying I want this great guy who's going to be loving and kind, but instead I keep picking these guys who need serious fixing, and I keep wondering why it doesn't work. I'm Tiana Simmons. Fantastic. If only I had a knack for screenplays like she does. Then I’d write all this great, scripted television drama. At least I'd be earning money."

  Willow took her hand. "The Dee I know would be busy looking for solutions. Remember the groom with the runaway bride problem? You helped him see what was wrong with the relationship, and now he's happily married. And your corporate clients—no one would have pegged that fat balding guy from Lehman’s as a Casanova. You have to do that for yourself.” Willow’s brows furrowed. “All this while you’ve been avoiding the personal clients and the D-list celebrities and wanting more corporate clients. But you're good with personal. And your clients might be D-listers, but they do love you. Once they see they need fixing, you turn things around for them. Maybe you open up shop, giving the personal touch."

  “Have you forgotten that I am the proud owner of twenty-five grand of debt? I’m going to have to sell this place to pay my school loan off. You looking for a roommate?”

  Willow smoothed her hair. “I’m glad you brought that up. Because I’ve been giving a lot of thought to your problem, and I’d like to invest in you. Well, us technically.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve got some money tucked away from when my grandmother passed. I want to help you with your grad school payment.”

  “Will, I can’t let you do that.”

  “Hear me out. If we’re going into business for ourselves, we’ll need some start up cash and a great locale. This loft is your investment. Getting Park and Associates off your ass is mine.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Try ‘yes’ on for size.” Her friend shrugged, displacing the russet tresses on her shoulders. "Besides, it's better than sitting around here crying over that man. The best revenge is to be fabulous. And you have me. We can do this. We can do anything."

  Maybe it was time to stop with the ice-cream and the wallowing. And get to fixing. She had a life to live. She'd survived without Nate Williams before. She could do it again. It didn’t matter how much she missed him. It didn't matter how much she wanted to be with him. Wanted him to be part of her new future. She had to move forward without him.

  Chapter 30

  After a sleepless night spent in front of his computer, Nate had a plan. And first part of that plan was handing Michael Ross his ass on a platter. His phone rang, and he made a leap for it.

  At the crack of dawn, he’d put a call into Delilah’s
brother, Dylan, and had been pacing his apartment waiting for a call back. He hated depending on people other than himself, but he didn't have much choice. To his credit, Dylan hadn’t wasted any time. Just gotten right on it.

  When his cell phone rang, he answered with a brusque, “Yeah?”

  “Eager much? I was the one who got woken up before the sun was up. Why are you so grumpy?” Dylan grumbled.

  Nate dragged in a calming breath. He was the one who needed a favor. “Sorry. I just had a hell of a night. I appreciate you doing this favor for me. Were you able to find anything out?”

  “Yes, actually. I put in some calls. There were no reported stabbing deaths on the date in question. There was, however, a stabbing reported to a local hospital. The victim was one, Cyrus Monroe.”

  Nate’s stomach turned. He hadn’t known the guy’s name, but he remembered his mother calling the guy Cy. “What happened to him?”

  “The vic claimed he was mugged but didn’t get a good look at the attacker. He survived to live another day, but only for a little while. He died in prison three years later while serving time for a child molestation charge.”

  Nate felt dizzy and grabbed the back of his chair to steady himself. “He lived through the stabbing?”

  “Yeah. I have a buddy in Syracuse PD. He looked up the file for me himself. What do you plan on doing with this?”

  Kill Michael Ross. Nate cleared his throat. “Buy Delilah a little breathing room.”

  Dylan was silent for a moment then he said, “This have anything to do with that asshole who turned up at her house and has been harassing her?”

  “The very same. He and I are going to have a conversation.”

  “You want company?” There was a hard edge to Dylan’s voice that told Nate he was in big brother protection mode and prepared to do damage.

  But Nate didn’t need any help. He would happily dismantle Ross on his own. “Thanks, but no. I got this.”

  “Way to ruin my fun.”