Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ella slung her bag over her shoulder as she walked down her mom’s driveway. She glanced up at the Valentine place next door and felt like a little kid again. It had been so much simpler then. She’d lived here, Donovan had been the boy next door. They’d been best friends.
Nothing like it was now. Gah. Their relationship, and their future, could be described by a lot of words. Confusing. Intense. Heartbreaking. Exhilarating. All apt descriptors. But simple? Hell, no.
Since Donovan had come crashing back into her life in the form of those two Men in Black-esque agents who’d stepped into her shop to question her, it seemed like the Universe was conspiring to keep him at the forefront of her mind. Every little thing reminded her of something he’d said, or somewhere they’d gone together, or some story that the two of them shared.
Man. For as powerful as their bond already was on its own, piling their shared history on top of it magnified it tenfold. And the thing that worried her more than anything about this new trend of seeing Donovan in every nook and cranny of Valentine Bay was that he was leaving. That was the one thing that wasn’t in question.
It had been hard enough to get him out of her mind and soul the first time, when she was a lot younger and more resilient than she was now—and when their history was a lot less complex. Now, removing him from her thoughts would be like picking out thousands of tiny pieces of shrapnel from a war wound, each one jagged and embedded and intertwined somehow with all the others.
She didn’t think it would be possible. That was the scary part. What if she just folded? What if she couldn’t take it?
What if her mind retreated, like her mother’s had, making her a prisoner to her fear, and to her pain?
She thought she was stronger than that. But, hell, maybe strength didn’t have much to do with it. Her mother was one of the strongest, smartest women she knew and yet she still stayed captive behind the walls of Ella’s childhood home.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to jump off that bridge when I come to it,” she murmured under her breath.
A car pulled into the driveway next door and Ella quickened her steps. She didn’t want Troy (or, God forbid, Donovan) to see her there and think that she just stood around in her mother’s driveway all day dreamily staring at their house.
“Ella! Hi, Ella!”
Damn. She’d almost made a clean getaway. But at least the voice that had called her belonged to Mila and not one of the guys. Not that pre-teen girls couldn’t be judgy…but Mila was a cool kid.
She turned to greet Mila, a smile wide across her face, and saw that Donovan was standing right behind the girl. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Just like it had every time she’d laid eyes on him since she’d been younger than Mila was now.
Dammit! I’m toast.
“Hey, guys! What’s up?” She was gratified to hear that her voice was steady and cheerful. As far as she could tell, none of her internal turmoil and angst was leaking out of any of the three main culprits—eyes, face, or voice. It was staying right where it belonged: in her gut, where it could breed ulcers instead of humiliation, just like God intended.
“We just came back from a hike, and we had a picnic,” Mila explained, hitching up her backpack.
“Which explains why we’re so muddy,” Donovan laughed.
“I think you look great,” Ella blurted, and it was all she could do not to surrender to a full-body cringe. Damn, would she ever get her filter working again where Donovan was concerned?
Nah. Probably not.
“Hey, I know!” Mila burst out. “Why don’t you come over? Troy said he was going to make crockpot chili for dinner. We can play games till it’s done.”
Ella looked to Donovan. Maybe he wouldn’t want her horning in on his family time. But he had a grin on his face that covered it from ear to ear, and he said, “That’s a great idea. Come over, Ella.”
Her whole body relaxed. She hadn’t even realized she was tense. “Awesome. Thanks, that sounds fun.”
She walked with them up to their front door and was hit with a realization: in many ways, this felt even more intimate than being alone with Donovan. This was…family. This was home, and they were sharing it.
Stop, Ella! That’s the kind of thinking that’s going to break your heart in the end.
She shook her head to clear it and decided to follow her mother’s phone call advice. Forget holding back. Forget trying to protect herself from pain that was almost certainly going to come anyway. If tonight was what they had, if this was going to be the only glimpse she’d ever get in this life of what it would be like to be part of Donovan Valentine’s family, well then, dammit—she was going to buck up and enjoy it!
Donovan inserted the key and opened the front door, with Mila pushing through first and bursting into the entryway. “Troy! Ella’s coming for dinner!” she called, and threw her backpack down in the entryway.
Troy appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, and waved when he saw her. “Oh, hey, Ella,” he said. “It’s nothing fancy tonight. Just Crock-Pot chili. It’ll be done in a couple of hours.”
“Sounds great,” she said.
“I’ll help you,” Mila said, “I’ll make sure you spiced it right.”
Troy laughed and ruffled her hair as she passed him and then followed her into the kitchen.
Looking around the living room, Ella realized she hadn’t been inside the house for years, but it looked largely the same. Her eyes alighted on the large family portrait that still hung over the fireplace, and the mantel, which still held all of Donovan’s mother’s butterfly figurines.
Donovan moved to stand next to her, following her eyeline. “Remember how much she loved those butterflies?” he said softly.
She nodded. “She always kind of reminded me of a butterfly. So beautiful and delicate, and bringing happiness wherever she went.”
He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I like that,” he said, his voice thick. “I think she would’ve, too.”
Ella turned to smile at him and found that their faces were closer together than she’d imagined. Her breath caught, and her eyes widened. Her heart beat fast and light.
They stood that way for a long moment until finally Donovan stepped back, shaking his head like he was coming out of a trance. “I, uh…I’m just gonna go grab a quick shower. Why don’t you head on into the kitchen with Troy and grab a water or juice? I’ll be right down.”
He pounded up the stairs and Ella ran her hands over her face a couple of times, trying to calm the heat that had risen on her skin before she walked into the kitchen to face the family of the guy that had put it there.
Just as she felt her skin cool beneath her palms, the sound of water beating against the ceramic tub floated down from the upstairs bathroom and she was seized with a mental image: Donovan. Naked. Wet and soapy. Running his hands all over his bulging muscles as he washed off…
She gave her shoulders a little shake and tried to catch her breath.
Yeah. That definitely isn’t going to help my efforts to get the blushing under control. Not one damn bit.