Chapter Four
Donovan stood on the porch of his childhood home, the smell of pine and the whisper of the wind through the trees that would always mean home to him ringing in his ears, and debated ringing the bell. He was being an idiot. There was no question about that. He’d spent the day flying all the way across the country, taking the first flight out he could get this morning. Then he’d rented a car and driven the two hours from Portland. Now, finally, after all of that, he was standing in front of the door and halfway considering walking away.
Even five years after his parents had died in a car accident, it hurt to be at the house. Their memories were so fresh for him there. In DC, he could almost pretend they were still alive and well, living their lives on the left coast while he lived his on the right.
But, here? Back in Valentine Bay, where he was entrenched in the community that his ancestors had founded? Back in his old house, no less? There was no pretending. He had to deal with those demons head on. Not to mention the guilt. God damn it, the guilt. That was the hardest part.
Then there was his brother, Troy. Donovan found it hard to face him. Troy had dropped everything when their parents had died, given up a flourishing professional baseball career to come back to Valentine Bay and raise their little sister Mila, still in elementary school and reeling from the loss of their parents in a way that even her adult brothers would probably never fully understand.
It wasn’t that Troy rubbed it in his face or anything. Troy seemed happy in Valentine Bay, running his contracting firm and taking care of Mila. The awkwardness—and the guilt—was one hundred percent on Donovan’s end. Still, that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
What would Miller say to him in this situation? He let the ghost of a grin touch his lips. He knew exactly what his fellow agent would say; he could hear the words echoing in his head. Stop being such a damn pussy, Valentine. I know you’re named after a chick-fest holiday, but, damn, dude. Sack up.
Even in his imagination, Miller was both brutal and accurate. He reached out and pressed the bell.
After just a few seconds, the door opened, but it wasn’t Troy standing there. It was a beautiful pre-teen girl he almost didn’t recognize as his own kid sister. Even though he loved the pictures Troy sent, in his mind, she was still a little kid. Seeing her standing before him in all her tween glory was a shock, to say the least.
“Holy hell, I feel old,” he mumbled.
Her jaw dropped when she saw him. “Donovan? Troy didn’t tell me you were coming!”
“He didn’t know, kiddo. Can I come in?”
She stepped aside and held the door open. “Oh, God, yeah! Sorry! I was just shocked.”
“You’re not the only one.”
Donovan looked up at the sound of Troy’s voice and saw him at the far side of the living room, coming down the stairs.
“Yeah, sorry, bro,” he explained. “Last minute trip. Is it cool if I crash here?”
Mila squealed and threw her arms around him. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! You have to stay here!”
Troy grinned as he crossed the room to the two of them and then gave Mila’s hair an affection ruffle. “Well, you heard the lady. I guess you’re staying.”
A buzzer sounded from the kitchen and Mila’s face lit up. “Oh, hey, perfect timing! You’re just in time for dinner.”
Donovan raised his eyebrows at Troy. “You cook now?”
Troy put his hands up in front of him. “Hey, it’s all Mila. She’s the gourmet chef around here.”
Donovan clapped his hand over his heart in mock relief. “Thank God!”
Mila laughed, her face aglow with delight, clearly thrilled to be the center of her two big brothers’ attention.
“Come on! I made lasagna. It’s really good,” she enthused, leading the way into the kitchen.
“If she does say so herself,” Troy teased.
“Yep, I do,” Mila replied, and Donovan couldn’t help but smile at the sassy tone in her voice. Shit. Troy had obviously done an awesome job raising her these past five years. Donovan felt a stab of guilt for not coming home more often, but pushed it aside. Hell, there were so many other things to feel guilty about. Why focus on just that one?
He crossed the living room and headed toward the kitchen but was stopped in his tracks when his eyes lighted on the huge family portrait that still hung over the fireplace. Most families kept their television in that spot since flat screens had become the norm, but this house would never feel like the same home if they ever replaced the portrait with something as soulless as a television.
He stopped and looked at the blown-up photograph. The last one they’d all been together for, when Mila was only four. His heart squeezed. There they were, his parents. His beautiful mom, her warm brown eyes beaming out from beneath the chunky highlights she’d worn since he was a kid. His dependable, cheerful dad with his salt and pepper moustache. They smiled out from the canvas, beaming with pride because they were with their favorite people in the whole world—their kids.
He and his three brothers stood behind his seated parents in the portrait, each of them bearing different features from his parents, allowing his mom and dad to live on thanks to strong genetics. And there, sitting on their lap, was little Mila. A tow-headed angel with golden curls, bright blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. Her hair had darkened since they’d all sat for this photo, but the arresting eyes and rosy cheeks were still there, and still lovely.
It had been five years since he’d lost them, but damn, it still hurt so much that he could barely stand to think about it.
Unable to look at the picture anymore, his eyes drifted down to the mantel. It didn’t help. There, lined up along the ledge, looking like a row of colorful, fragile little soldiers, was his mom’s collection of butterfly figurines. He walked across the room and ran his hand over a couple of the ceramic knick knacks.
God, he’d forgotten how much she’d loved butterflies. They were her “spirit animal” she’d said, and whenever anyone tried to point out that they weren’t an animal, she’d just shrug. They’d been on her shirts, her mugs…her mantelpiece. And here they still were, infusing the house with her spirit.
Fuck, was coming back here a mistake?
As if in answer to his unspoken question, he heard his little sister’s voice from the kitchen. “Donovan! Come on! It’ll get cold!”
He smiled as he turned to follow that call. Nah. Not a mistake. Definitely not.
“Holy crap. Married. That’s insane!”
Donovan nodded. He really had nothing to add to Troy’s comment. That pretty much said it all.
After they’d finished dinner and watched some TV with Mila, she’d headed off to bed, albeit reluctantly. That was when Troy had brought a couple of beers out onto the back porch and asked him what the hell he was really doing there.
Donovan stared out at the moonlight reflected on the crashing waves in the distance. When he was growing up, the three bedroom cottage had seemed so crowded to him.
Between his parents, him, Troy, and their two brothers Gavin and Jett, there hadn’t been an inch to spare. But his parents refused to even think about looking for another place because of the one feature that made the house utterly spectacular—the expansive wraparound deck that stretched across the back of the house, giving them a spectacular view of the ocean below, far down the hillside from where the cottage was perched.
None of the boys had really gotten it when they were kids. Rambunctious teenagers were not well known for their appreciation of gorgeous, peaceful scenery, after all. But now, as adults, it made sense. It had become a tradition between the brothers. Whichever combination of the four Valentine boys were together, they would sit out on the back deck and enjoy some beers. No matter how cold it was, they would just pull on parkas and gloves.
Out there, in the dark, watching the moonlit waves and filling their bellies with the familiar comfort of the beer, it seemed easier to talk about everything, no matter how deep and difficult.
Troy shook his head. “Can’t believe you never told me about this Vegas wedding thing, bro. It seems like kind of a big life event to keep to yourself.”
Donovan shrugged. “You were a kid.”
“Screw that, I was two years younger than you.”
“Yeah, like I said. A kid.”
Troy chuckled, and Donovan realized how much he’d missed his younger brother in the years he’d been living on the other side of the country.
In the silence that hung between them, Donovan asked the question he’d been building up to since he’d walked in the door. He’d just been waiting for the right time to ask it. Or maybe the courage. “So…how is she? How has she been?”
Troy shrugged. “Her shop’s doing fine. I mean, it must be kind of tough with her mother’s situation and everything…”
“Her mother’s situation?”
Troy shot him a puzzled glance. “Yeah. I mean, you do know that her mom hasn’t been able to leave the house in, like, three years, right?”
A heavy weight settled on Donovan’s chest. Shit, he hadn’t known that. He wondered what else he didn’t know. He sighed. “I knew it was getting worse. I knew she was having more bad days than good. I didn’t know it had gotten that bad.”
Troy nodded. The silence stretched between them, and then he said, “Lack of communication is the number one problem in most marriages, bro.”
Donovan laughed and slugged Troy’s shoulder. “Jackass.”
“Guilty. So, that’s what you’re back in town for? To get her to sign annulment papers?”
That stopped Donovan short. “Shit. I guess I didn’t think that far ahead. I just knew I needed to get it taken care of, so I jumped on a plane.”
Troy looked over at him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Really? Because it seems like the kind of thing you could really handle over the phone. Or fax. Scanned documents. Emails.”
Donovan shook his head. “Nah. I had to come take care of it in person. My security clearance is on the line. I couldn’t leave that up in the air or trust it to phone calls.”
There was a long silence, and finally Troy said. “Huh. Is that what’s on the line? Your security clearance?”
“Yeah. I told you that. What are you talking about?”
“I guess I should’ve said, is that the only thing that’s on the line?”
Donovan stood and walked to the edge of the deck. “I’m not going there.”
“Bro, there’s nowhere to go. You’re already there.”
Another silence stretched between them. Finally, Troy asked, “How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
“We email.”
“Not what I asked.”
Donovan didn’t answer right away, but it wasn’t because he had to do the calculations. He knew exactly how long it had been since he’d last laid eyes on Ella Fletcher. “Mom and Dad’s funeral.”
“Shit. And how long before that?”
“Another five years or so.”
“You know, I always thought you two would end up together.”
Donovan silently agreed, but he didn’t acknowledge it out loud. He never had.
“Although,” Troy continued, a light teasing note entering his voice, “I guess you kind of did. All these years, and she’s been the ol’ ball and chain. I’ve had a sister-in-law and never even knew it.”
Donovan let his chin drop to his chest. “Please, for the love of God, get all of this shit out of your system now so you don’t pop out with any of it the next time you see her, okay?”
Troy grinned and joined him at the railing. “No promises, my man. No freaking promises.”