CHAPTER 14: Danielle

Davy put a finger under the bill and pushed the cap back on his head so I could see his face in the dim porch light. I recognized the blue eyes that I once thought could stare into my soul. Under the scraggly mustache, I recognized the boyish smile. It was Davy, back from the dead. I leaned against the doorframe to keep my knees from buckling.

I whispered to him, afraid to call his name out loud.

“Davy? Is it really you?”

“It’s really me,” he said quietly. He put one foot on the first step and gazed up at me with a hesitant look on his face. “Sorry to get here so late. Can I come in?”

I stared down at him for a moment. My brain needed a minute to process the fact that he was standing before me after all these years. I blinked at him to clear away the fog clouding my mind. I closed my eyes and counted to three, then opened them. He was still there.

“Come in,” I said, moving behind the door to let him pass. Davy Boone stepped into my living room and plucked the cap off his head as if he’d entered church. He gave me a nervous smile. For a moment, I thought he was going to hug me, but he kept his feet planted with the cap clutched between his hands.

“How have you been?” he asked.

I gathered the front of the robe tight and clutched it to my chest. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep them from reaching out to him.

I said, “I’ve been fine. You?”

He sighed. “I’ve been okay. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” I said the words without emotion or looking him in the eye. My voice was flat, like a person in shock trying to speak.

Despite my tone, I had to resist the urge to throw my arms around his neck and tell him how much I’d missed him. The urge was overcome by the anger coursing through my veins. You completely disappear from my life six years ago and show up expecting a hug and a welcome home?

Buddy, you knocked on the wrong door.

My eyes went around the face I remembered as a teenager. Davy had aged considerably in six years. His complexion was dark and ruddy. The beard was scraggly and hid most of his face beneath his cheekbones. There were tiny scars around his right temple and across the bridge of his nose. His eyes were still the same blue, but they didn’t sparkle anymore. He was just twenty-four, but he looked old and tired.

“You look pissed,” he said with a frown.

“Where have you been?” I asked flatly.

“All over the place, really,” he said. His tone was one of sadness and regret. The smiled faded from his lips. He brushed a knuckle under his nose and stared at the floor between us.

He said, “Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya…a few other places I can’t tell you about.”

I set my jaw and forced myself to hold my ground. “Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you write? Do you know how worried I was? Jesus, Davy, everybody thinks you’re dead. I thought you were dead.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh that seemed to take all the air out of him. He glanced back at the couch. “Could I sit down? Maybe get something to drink? I’ve been travelling for three days without sleep. I’m a little worn out.”

I almost told him to get the hell out of my trailer, but the look on his face was that of a hurt little boy who had just found his way home.

Deny it though I might, he still held a tender place in my heart no other man would ever touch, not even men like the Wolf brothers.

Maybe that was the reason there were so few good men in Bellegrade.

Maybe God was making me wait for Davy to come home.

Maybe he was teaching me patience.

Maybe hooking me up with Randy had been meant to make me appreciate the love I had lost.

And maybe, just maybe, letting the Wolf brothers pass through my life was His way of rewarding me for my patience.

Nah, that was total bullshit, but it sure sounded good going through my addled brain.

I held out a hand toward the couch and told him to have a seat while I got him a drink.

I stepped around the little bar that separated the kitchen from the living area and pulled a glass from the cabinet. I filled it with water from the tap.

When I went back into the living room, Davy was lying on the couch with an arm over his eyes.

His muscular chest rose and fell slowly.

He was snoring softly.

I set the glass of water on the coffee table and stood staring down at him for a moment, listening to him breath.

I resisted the urge to lie down next to him.

I turned out the lights and dragged myself to bed.

I wondered if he’d still be there in the morning.