Chapter Twenty-One
“Hold up, ladies! Let me help you out with those.”
Donovan jogged over to Ella’s car in the high school parking lot where she, Genevieve and Abby were lifting wooden apple crates full of wine bottles out of the trunk. He took the one Ella was carrying and then motioned for Abby to set the one she had on top of it.
Ella slammed the trunk closed with a satisfying thud and then turned to Donovan. She gave him a bright smile and exclaimed, “My hero.”
God. Hearing those words from her mouth, even though he knew she was saying them in jest, caused his heart to flip over. Damn. He was lucky he didn’t drop the two heavy crates right on the pavement, sending wine and shattered glass flying.
He covered his reaction by giving her a sexy wink and growling, “I aim to please,” in a low voice that sent a clear message that the ways he aimed to please went far beyond carrying wine bottles.
She flushed and put her hands over her face, which filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction. Oh, yeah. I still got it.
“Oh, God,” Abby groaned. “This is worse than the will-they-won’t-they tension that we all had to put up with for four years in high school. And, by the way, it took you long enough to land on the inevitable ‘will they’ side of that equation. I lost money in the pool, thank you very much. I had you guys down for banging by the end of senior summer, no question.”
Gen burst out laughing. “I know, right?!”
Donovan and Ella exchanged a look, but both of them kept their mouths shut tight. Valentine Bay was not a place where you could let just one person in on a secret. Telling a single soul was tantamount to telling the whole town.
Luckily, Abby seemed content to just keep on with the conversation and didn’t appear to notice any weird vibe between them. Donovan was glad. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sit down and talk with Ella, really talk, since the other night, when they’d both found out that they’d slept with each other before…and also engaged in a highly successful repeat performance. He didn’t want the entire town talking about their business before he and Ella had even had a chance to.
“So who else is coming to this planning meeting tonight? Besides Vicki, obviously,” Abby asked.
“Oh, so Ella told you that this whole ridiculous reunion idea was Vicki’s brainchild?” Gen asked as Ella used her set of keys to open the side door to the high school gymnasium and we stepped inside.
“No. I just know that she inserts herself into everything, so I made the obvious connection. But it was all her idea, huh? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s actually started inventing things to insert herself into, now.”
“Ooooo, who are we talking about?”
Donovan turned and saw that Vicki had stepped into the gym behind them without anyone noticing. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Ella started laughing, followed by Gen and Abby, and then finally Donovan. The momentum and intensity of the laughter built until he finally had to set the wine crates down on the bleachers so he could wipe his eyes.
Vicki pouted, which she usually did when she wasn’t at the center of the action. “What’s so funny? Somebody tell me what’s going on!” she cried, her voice like that of a petulant child.
This only caused them to laugh harder. Donovan felt a little guilty, deep down. After all, as annoying as Vicki could be with her Tracy-Flick-from-the-movie-Election-ish tendencies, she was still a person and didn’t deserve to be mocked.
He snapped himself out of it with giant effort and answered, “It was nothing, really, Vicki. Just something stupid we were talking about before. Hey, why don’t you all pull some folding chairs out of the storage closet over there? I’ll run over and turn on the lights.”
As he jogged across the gym to the small control panel behind the bleachers that controlled the lights and other electrical systems in the gymnasium, he thought about the fit of laughter he’d just indulged in. He didn’t know why it had taken such control of him, but it definitely wasn’t just because the situation was so funny.
He thought, on balance, that it was just the simple fact that it felt so good to laugh that hard, and it had been so long since he’d done it.
He turned the lights on and crossed the gym, back to where the women were setting up folding chairs. One side of the double doors opened and Troy walked in.
“Hey, Valentine Numero Dos. You weren’t in our class. What gives?” Abby asked, elbowing him good-naturedly.
He grinned at her. “I couldn’t let my big bro be the only thorn in the midst of all these roses.”
Vicki moved closer to him. “My, aren’t you a charmer.”
Ella rolled her eyes and Gen mumbled, “Standards, much? I guess any Valentine’ll do.”
Donovan cleared his throat. “So, I think everyone’s here. Why don’t we get started.”
“Yeah bro, let’s do it. Mila’ll be home from her study group in an hour. I’d like to be there.”
As the six of them sat on the folding chairs for the next forty-five minutes, planning out decorations and food, assigning tasks, and compiling the email addresses for the alumni they’d each kept in touch with to form one master list, Donovan surprised himself by actually starting to look forward to the event. Even though he’d been roped into participating, he had to admit, it might be fun to see some of the old gang again.
For the first time since he’d set foot back in the city limits, he felt comfortable here. There was still guilt, of course. Still trauma. He knew what he’d caused, and it wasn’t as if he’d given himself a pass. But there was love here, too. Friendship.
Forgiveness? Could that be too much to ask?
He hoped that Troy forgave him. They’d never talked about it. They were guys, after all. Their deepest communication was accomplished through silence and meaningful nods. But Troy had never treated him differently, not at any point since their parents’ accident. That was enough to give Donovan hope that Troy could forgive him.
Now, whether or not he could forgive himself…that was an entirely different story. He hoped he could. Not that he thought he deserved it. But if it were possible, it would be a good thing. He could come back here more often, visit his family. Troy could use the support, and he didn’t want to miss Mila’s entire childhood by running away forever.
He let his eyes wander over to Ella. God. Time with her was another thing he’d let slip away. He couldn’t believe it had been so long since they’d seen each other. He really couldn’t believe that he’d managed to survive on the paltry emails they’d exchanged during that time.
Dammit, he’d been given a stark reminder at the beginning of that five year stretch that life was fucking short and nothing about the future was guaranteed. Why he hadn’t taken that as a clear-as-day clue to grab onto her and never let go, he had no idea. And maybe that was just one more thing he’d never forgive himself for. But he thought he might be starting to understand.
The unwavering drive to be assigned to the elite Secret Service detail, the self-imposed exile from family and love, from warmth of any kind… They were both part of the same reaction. Two sides of the same coin.
He hadn’t been able to save his parents, so he was compelled to dedicate his life to protection at the highest level possible. And since he was the indirect cause of their death, he also committed himself to a near-monastic level of isolation as punishment. He didn’t feel he deserved love, or forgiveness, or warmth, so he simply didn’t allow himself to have it.
Could he change all of that now? What would that look like?
Did he even deserve to?