Enflame

by S. Layne

  His voice—or the disappointment on his face—changes something in Donovan. Maybe it’s my own scolding. His shoulders relax and he takes a moment before he nods, mischief lighting his eyes.

  He smirks, points a finger at Jeremiah, and then his smirk widens into a full grin. “I can be fun.”

  Jeremiah lifts his chin, daring him. “Prove it.”

  Donovan scoffs and heads up the stairs. “Be ready to eat your words, J.”

  As he disappears, I turn to Jeremiah and see him fighting a smile. He loses, and his lips spread wide in a grin that almost matches Donovan’s.

  I throw my arm around his shoulders. “See? Told you this would be fun.”

  He doesn’t say anything, but his grin stays in place until Donovan comes back downstairs dressed in jeans and a simple gray T-shirt with the word Michigan screen-printed across the front in cream lettering.

  The shirt is ancient and must be from his college days.

  The idea that he threw something on, so ugly and worn, with its frayed hems around the edges of the sleeves and the collar—and if I’m not mistaken, a bleach stain down near the bottom—makes me grin.

  He winks at me and grabs the basket with one hand, resting his other at the small of my back.

  He leads us out of the house, and by the way my cheeks are hurting from my own smile, I am certain it rivals Jeremiah’s.

  But even with the thrilling victory of simply seeing Donovan relaxed and casual, something niggles at my mind during the drive to the amusement park.

  We have so much to discuss. His words of regret at leaving me make me question if this thirty-day plan he had for me was just a way to manipulate me back into his life, or if he doesn’t want anything more.

  He might just need someone to warm his bed after leaving his wife…which he doesn’t discuss. These are all things we need to talk about if there’s any hope of something real happening between us.

  I just don’t know if I’m brave enough to broach the subject first.

  “That was wild,” I say, my hand to my chest trying to hold my rapidly beating heart inside my body. My legs are wobbly as I climb out of the roller coaster’s harness when it pulls to a stop. “My feet are shaking.”

  Next to me, Donovan rests his hand on my back, guiding me to the exit lane.

  Jeremiah laughs. “That was freaking awesome. Can I go again?”

  I hold up a hand. “You’re on your own this time.”

  He pouts and looks at Donovan. “Will you go with me?”

  We get to the end of the exit and I move toward a bench. I’m all for roller coasters but the last one, a suspension ride, was almost too much for me.

  Donovan looks down at me, his brow pinched together. “Are you okay? You look a little green.”

  “I’m good. I just need to rest for a minute.”

  He looks uncertain, but I press a hand to his forearm. “Go. I’ll wait right here for you.” Looking at Jeremiah, I see him biting his lip and bouncing back and forth on his feet. Anxious to ride, worried no one will go with him. “Take him, Jeremiah.”

  He doesn’t waste time in reaching for Donovan’s hand. Donovan’s eyes widen slightly at the contact and he turns, smiling hesitantly. “All right, man. Let’s do this.”

  “Awesome.”

  I watch them walk away, a grin on my face that has rarely disappeared all day. We’ve been on countless rides, most of them more than once. We’ve stuffed our faces with corn dogs and funnel cakes and devoured the lunch and snacks I brought.

  The locker we rented as soon as we walked into the park is jam-packed with jackets that we stored once the warm fall sun came out, and stuffed with animals that Jeremiah and Donovan won playing the carnival-type games.

  Whatever Jeremiah wants to do, Donovan has followed. They seem to be in some unspoken masculine competition to win…something. I don’t know what it is, but I have never spent a day laughing so hard at testosterone-filled antics as I have today.

  It’s like being in college, hanging out at the fraternity house, all over again.

  It’s been absolutely perfect, and with the sun warming me, tanning my skin for probably the last time of the year, I can’t help but lean my head back and let the heat beat down on me.

  I’m relaxed.

  I might have needed this day as much as Jeremiah and Donovan.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen Donovan act like the man I remember: relaxed, easygoing, carefree. I hadn’t realized truly how much he had changed until he shed his harsh exterior with his work clothes this morning and started acting like the man I once knew.

  It makes it nearly impossible to not want to whisk him away to a dark corner and have my wicked way with him.

  So lost I am in my dreamworld, where Donovan takes me roughly in some hidden corner, I jump when a soft touch brushes across my cheek.

  “What the—” I gasp, my eyes flying open only to find Donovan and Jeremiah standing in front of me. Matching smirks twist their lips.

  My hand is on my chest and I shake my head. “You scared the crud out of me.”

  Jeremiah grins. “Have a nice nap?”

  I feign a scowl and stand up. “I wasn’t napping. Where to now?”

  “Maybe we should head home if you’re tired,” Donovan says, his green eyes bright as limes as he scans my flushed cheeks.

  The heat on my skin increases from his concerned perusal. No way I can tell him what I was just thinking.

  “I’m not tired.”

  “You sure?” One eyebrow arches.

  Jeremiah gives a fist pump. “Awesome, then. Water park time.”

  Donovan’s jaw drops. “Water what?”

  “Really?” I ask, my hands going to my hips. “You haven’t seen the water rides? We’ve been here all day.”

  “Perhaps I was hoping you two wouldn’t see them.”

  “Cute.” I bump my hip into Donovan’s, enjoying that his arm wraps around me. His hand settles on my hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Let’s go.”

  “You’ll get wet,” he whispers, and peers down at my shirt. It’s white, and I press my lips together. He has a point. The last thing I need is a teenage boy seeing my pink bra beneath my white shirt.

  The way Donovan’s staring at me makes me almost feel bad for him, too.

  “No worries,” I say and start walking. “I’ll just pick up a new shirt to throw over it.”

  It’s a good idea, anyway. When we got ready for the park today, I figured it’d stay too cool to enjoy the water rides, but now that the sun is out, I could use some cooling off.

  Or perhaps that’s still from my daydreams.

  Whichever.

  We head to the water park, where we wait in line for thirty minutes only to dive down a waterfall in an inner tube built for six. I’m thankful for the black shirt I bought, because by the time we climb out of our ride we’re all soaking wet from our toes to the top of our heads.

  “This is the best day I’ve had in, like, forever,” I say wistfully as we head out of the park.

  Donovan has his arm wrapped around me, his hand on my hip on one side of me, and Jeremiah walks next to me on the other side.

  I link my arm through his when he looks up at me, a large, genuine grin on his face. There’s no hint of sadness or anger as he simply says, “Yeah, it was fun.”

  I elbow Donovan in the ribs only to watch him nod, his own lips mirroring both Jeremiah’s and mine.

  “Fun. Definitely.”

  I’m sitting on his deck, wrapped in a thick fleece blanket and staring out at the dark water in front of me.

  The sun set and brought with it a cooling breeze that is rolling off the lake. My blond hair blows from a sudden gust and I shiver, gripping my blanket tighter with one hand, my wine glass in another.

  This weekend has been incredible. Not only did we all have a blast at the amusement park, but Donovan hasn’t worked once this weekend. Earlier this afternoon, when I woke up from a nap on his couch in the
living room, I searched the house only to find him involved in some motorbike racing game with Jeremiah.

  Their shouts of victory and disgust at losing coupled with the manly ribbing or humorous insults being slung at each other made me smile, and I disappeared from the game room before either one noticed me.

  All around me, I see Donovan changing. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

  I squeeze my eyes closed briefly at the sound of the sliding door opening and closing behind me.

  Donovan doesn’t speak while he walks to me huddled in one of the lounge chairs that circles his fire pit.

  “Do you want a fire?” he asks when he comes close. “You look cold.”

  “Sure.” I turn my head, needing to tilt it back to see him. The outside lights from the house cast a shadow over his features. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

  “Want company?”

  I frown, momentarily thrown. He’s not an ask-and-wait kind of guy. “Of course.” I smile through the hesitance in my words. Right now, he’s not the easygoing guy I’ve spent the weekend with.

  He walks toward the fire pit, stacking logs and kindling with ease, his body and limbs moving with graceful, lithe movements until the fire is crackling in front of me.

  The flames heat my cheeks and I relax my hold on the blanket.

  I frown when Donovan leaves the deck, the sliding door opening. I thought he was staying, and disappointment begins to slide through me when I think he’s gone.

  But he returns quickly, refills my glass, and sets the bottle of red wine down before taking a seat in the chair next to the table. A simple, domestic beer bottle is in his hand.

  “How’s your dad?” he asks, breaking the thickening silence.

  I take a sip of my wine and focus on the dancing, colorful flames shooting ash into the air.

  We haven’t spoken of my dad or his stroke since the night he snuck into my bedroom, and then when he woke me up the following morning, his fingers stroking my sex before he slid inside me, bringing me to a quiet, slow-paced, but nevertheless intense orgasm, as he kept his unwavering gaze on me.

  The reminder of the quiet, peaceful moment sends tingles to my toes, and I curl them under my blanket.

  “He had a stroke just over a month ago—a massive one—and he’s not well.”

  Silence passes between us for several heartbeats. “I’m sorry.”

  I wave off the apology. “Not your fault.” I take another sip of wine, debating how much to tell him, how much to open myself to him, before I just go for it. At some point, we need to start talking. “He can’t move. He doesn’t recognize me, and he seems to be barely holding on by a thread. His therapist has told me that recovery from his type of serious stroke sometimes doesn’t begin for months, but…” My voice trails off. Tears burn my eyes.

  “Where is he?”

  “Centerville Nursing Facility.”

  Donovan makes a disgusted sound and I turn to face him.

  “You have him there?”

  My spine stiffens at his tone. “I can’t exactly afford luxury. I know the place sucks, but his therapist seems to know what he’s doing.”

  I trust Dr. Getting, even if I despise the administrator, Ms. Zelder.

  “You can afford it now, though.”

  My lips twist and I turn back to the fire. Its heat is less intense than Donovan’s gaze. “That’s for the center.”

  I feel his tension rolling off him in palpable waves before it settles into something else. Something weightier and heavy in a different way.

  He reaches over and takes my hand, gently removing my wine glass. Slowly, he entwines our fingers together and squeezes. “I’m sorry about your dad. I know how close to him you are.”

  I shrug, trying to stay unaffected by his touch. “He’s all I have.”

  His hand squeezes mine again before he lets me go. I reach for my glass and take a large swallow of wine.

  Donovan breaks the next silence when he says, “I think this weekend was the best one I’ve had since college.”

  I try to smile, but I falter. I’m happy for him, thrilled that I could do something small to help his relationship with Jeremiah, but his reminder brings too many questions to my mind.

  Taking a fortifying breath, I stare at the fire and whisper the question I’ve been dying to know the answer to for eight long years. “Why did you leave?”

  I want to say “Why did you leave me,” but my lips refuse to form the last word.

  He sighs and I look over at him, see his head dropped to the back of his chair, beer bottle at his lips.

  His throat works as he swallows, and I can’t help but follow the movement.

  “My dad died and everything changed.” Swinging his legs to either side of the lounge chair, he straddles it, planting his feet flat on the deck, his elbows go to his knees and he rolls forward, hunching his shoulders. His head falls down and he shakes it. “You have no idea how much I wanted to call you then, how much I needed you—wanted you there. But somehow I was thrown into meetings and there were wills being read, decisions being made, lawyers and my mom telling me what to do. Everything snowballed and before I could blink, I was practically running a company.”

  “I would have been there for you through all of that.” I don’t hide the pain in my voice. It sounds like he ditched me thinking I wasn’t good enough for all of it, wasn’t capable of handling it, when all I’d ever wanted was Donovan.

  Just him.

  “I think on some level I knew that,” he says, turning and meeting my pained gaze with his regretful one. “But there was so much going on, and my mom kept pushing. I was just a stupid, scared, and hurting kid, and it was easier to simply do what I was told.”

  My nose twitches, my anger rising. “And you were told to get rid of me.”

  He reaches for me, but I pull back. I get it. I always suspected his mom had something to do with his silence, considering she looked at me like I wasn’t worthy enough to lick the dirt off her shoe.

  “She was hurting enough with my dad’s death, and we were all trying to keep everything together, keep his company running…I didn’t want to upset her further.” He swings one leg over the chair and twists so he’s facing me. Then he’s up, his hands are under my legs and behind my back and I’m lifted, placed in his lap back in his chair. His legs are on the lounger, mine thrown over his and hanging to one side. “If I could go back and change anything, walking away from you without an explanation would be the thing I’d do different. I’d be stronger.”

  My breath stalls in my chest, and his hand slides down my hair, letting it fall through his fingertips. I’ve always loved having my hair played with. It’s calming, and I fight the urge to relax into him.

  He makes it sound so simple, but it wasn’t.

  “It hurt,” I say, my emotions overtaking me.

  My body tenses as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him.

  Pressing his lips to my temple, he murmurs, “I know. And I knew it would. And it made me feel like the biggest asshole in the world after leaving you that night…especially it being your first time. But I was young and naïve and doing what I was told to do. It doesn’t make it right at all, but I thought it’d be easier than calling you. I didn’t know if I had the strength to walk away from my family.”

  I almost want to ask him if he does now. Because as sure as I am that the sky is blue, I’m equally positive that if his mom finds out I’m here, her reaction will be the same.

  “What about Cassandra?” I ask, because I need to know.

  How could he marry a woman who despised me like his mother? He was there. He saw how bitchy she was to me and he avoided her as much as he could, constantly defending me to her endless rants about how I wasn’t good enough for him.

  Donovan’s chest heaves and dips against my side, his lips pressing into a firm line against my temple.

  “Another ridiculously stupid decision when I was in the phase of doing what I was told
. I didn’t love her, she knew it all along. We were married because her dad is an investor in my father’s company. It made us larger, more respected as a company to have the Lores and Kyles connected.” He throws his head back to the chair and sighs. “God, it’s so fucking stupid. And I just went along with everything until Emily’s death. Losing her, getting Jeremiah, and seeing Cassandra as she truly is began changing things for me.”

  His eyes open and he sets them directly on mine.

  I can’t pull away. He’s so intense, so distraught. I reach out and run my palm against his cheek. He leans into my hand, turns his head and presses his lips to my palm.

  “And now?” I ask, uncertainty clogging my throat.

  I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for hurting me, and I don’t know if I understand his reasons, either. But I didn’t come from a family with unrealistic expectations and the need to always be perfect. I was simply raised to follow my dreams and be happy.

  Fortunately or unfortunately for me, the man holding me has always been the only thing that made sense in either of those things.

  “I pissed my mom off by leaving Cassandra. She’s been horrific, to be honest. I’m certain she’s helping Cassandra delay the divorce somehow. I’m getting in contact with a new lawyer tomorrow, who has no connection to my family in any way whatsoever, to try to get it taken care of. But Cassandra said some horrible things to Jeremiah shortly after he moved in with us, and I can’t have that—won’t tolerate it—around him. Despite what you might think, I do truly love him.”

  “I believe you.”

  That, I don’t question at all.

  “God, Emily loved him so much.” His voice clogs with emotion. And I decide we’ve had enough emotional upheaval—hashing out our past, my dad, his marriage, his family.

  There’s so much between us that doesn’t make sense, that should make me stay far away—because as hard as I try, I simply can’t imagine a happy ending between us, even if I want one.

  His lips quirk, shaking off his thoughts of Emily, and he leans forward, tightening his hold on me.

  I turn my head, lean forward, and tenderly brush my lips against his.