Chapter Four #2
I held his gaze, willing him to understand. “I don’t regret my marriage, but it’s over. Probably had been for a long time. We saw the world very differently. I wish things had turned out otherwise, but they didn’t, and I now live with the consequences of my decisions.”
“What decisions were those?”
This time, I closed my eyes. I didn’t talk about this—with anyone. Even Mariah hadn’t known during the chaos. Observant woman, though, she’d noted the first day I’d arrived to work without my wedding ring. She’d asked if I wanted to talk about it, I’d said no, and it’d never been mentioned again.
“Talk and drive,” he whispered. “Because I’m a block of ice.”
I pressed another broken kiss to his lips and slid back comfortably into the driver’s seat. Leaning over the console hadn’t been pleasant, but I had zero regrets.
Well, maybe concern we’d crossed a line, but I’d deal with the ramifications of that when the time came.
The engine turned over easily, and I switched the vents to full. Within moments, hot air blasted through them.
Donovan held up his hands. And winced.
“Don’t you have gloves?”
“Yes, Mom.” He rolled his eyes. “They’re at home on the table in the front hall.”
This time, I rolled my eyes as I pulled out of the parking lot. “Fat lot of good they’re doing there.”
“The cab I ordered came early, and so I was scrambling. At least I managed my wallet.”
“I noticed you’re not carrying a bag.”
“Too awkward with my arm.” He scowled as he lowered his hands to his lap.
I navigated the car onto the street. “That should really be in a sling.”
He groaned. “You sound just like Caressa.”
“Who is a nurse…”
“Who is a nurse.” He cleared his throat. “And who only has my best interests at heart.”
“Are you taking your pills?”
He made a noise low in his throat.
“You have them with you?”
This noise sounded more like agreement.
“And they need to be taken with food?”
Another positive grumble.
“Then we’ll get drive-thru. I can’t eat while driving, but—”
“May I feed you?”
“Uh, no, I’m pretty sure that still falls under distracted driving.” Because having you that close would definitely distract me.
“You’re no fun.”
“No, I don’t want to be pulled over with a witness in my car.”
His gaze shot to mine. I noted the movement in my peripheral vision but kept my eyes on the road.
“That bad?”
“Well, not that good. I mean, I could just be driving you home, but I should have another officer with us.”
“So that you don’t say or do anything untoward?”
“Exactly.”
“And if I want you to do anything untoward?”
This man is likely going to be the death of me.
But what a way to go…
We stopped at a burger joint, and while I ordered a nice big burger, Donovan selected the grilled chicken option.
With extra lettuce.
Whatever.
We arrived at his house about forty minutes later as I needed to fight with the hordes of commuters abandoning Vancouver for the suburbs. My condo wasn’t too much farther, but I took Donovan up on his offer of a place to sit and eat before moving on.
And as strong as he was, I saw the vulnerability. Felt his desire not to be alone.
While he heated my burger and fries in the microwave, I took a good look around.
This place didn’t read as much of an alpha male as I’d expected.
Instead of chrome and leather, he had a nice navy-blue fabric couch.
The dove-gray recliner angled toward the big-screen television which, although substantial, certainly wasn’t the biggest on the market.
Art in various styles adorned the walls—nothing demanded supremacy, but I noticed a large number of Indigenous pieces.
Finally, his bookshelf held a mixture of hardcovers, paperbacks, as well as a substantial collection of movies and a handful of CDs.
Donovan whistled, and I moved to the kitchen. He presented the burger and fries on a plate while he nodded to the fridge. “Everything from beer to pop to mineral water.” He raised his arm a fraction of an inch. “It’s getting sore.”
“I’d imagine. You were shot yesterday. You’ve been on the go all day today. I stressed you out by taking you to the scene of the shooting—”
He waved me off with his good arm. “That had to be done. Better with you and Doc being there to hold my hand.”
I wasn’t certain we’d held his hand, but I had to ask, “Why do you call him Doc? I mean, I know he has a PhD—but clearly it irritates him.”
“Because it irritates him.” Donovan gestured we should go through to the living room.
After grabbing a soda, because as much as I wanted a beer, I was driving, I followed him.
He plopped into the recliner and then had to angle himself to use his left arm to activate the reclining mechanism. “Fuck a duck.”
“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same.” I placed my plate and soda on the coffee table. “How can I help?”
“Go back in time and improve my reflexes so she doesn’t shoot anyone?”
Nothing I hadn’t heard from many victims before. “Not in my power. I don’t have a time machine. And what if you tackled her and her shot wound up being more precise?”
He eyed me.
“I’m not saying things aren’t bad—but you and Cole are alive. You’re both going to recover. That’s pretty damn lucky, considering she shot you both.”
His glare spoke volumes. Still, he held my gaze a moment longer before looking away. “Yeah, could you put the blanket over me?”
I spotted a crocheted blanket that’d seen better days. I snagged it, then laid it across him.
He settled. “Now, if I didn’t have to piss eventually, I’d just stay here all night.”
I pointed to my bottle.
He yelped a laugh. “Uh, no. My mother’d kill me.”
“Well, is she expected home soon?”
Did he, like me, have a parent living with him? Or I had until recently.
That pang hit hard and sharp.
His face turned into a mask. “No. She’s dead. I was…being flippant. That was wrong of me.”
“You’re having a bad day.” I almost picked up my plate before I turned to him. “Have you taken your meds?”
He growled. Not a good growl.
“Right. Are they in the kitchen? Bathroom?”
“Kitchen.”
“And would you like a glass of water?”
“I want a beer.”
“Well, I’m certain that’s contraindicated with your meds, so I’ll get you mineral water.”
Before he could respond, I headed to the kitchen.
“Can you make it a soda? You’re having one.”
I chuckled to myself as I sorted through the pills and counted out the number prescribed. I recognized the antibiotic and was pleased to see they were giving him decent painkillers. Hopefully, they’d help him sleep tonight.
When I returned to the living room with his pills and soda, I found him with his eyes closed.
Am I supposed to leave? No, he needs his pills…
As I was about to rouse him, he stirred. “Yeah, sorry.”
“No worries. Let me help you.”
With a bit of coordination, he managed to swallow his pills and take a swig of soda to wash them down.
I tried not to gag.
“Your burger’s going to be cold.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’ll heat it up again.”
I met his gaze.
“Please.”
Shrugging, I rose and went back to the kitchen.
I reheated the food, but by the time I returned to the living room, he was out cold.
I ate my burger, washed the plate, then quietly headed out.
I didn’t like that I was leaving the front door unlocked, but overall, Vancouver was a pretty safe town.
And with Meggibeth Smythe locked up, Donovan would likely be okay.
Just in case, I planned to drop by the next morning.
With that, I was on my way.
Back to my empty condo.
Filled with memories of the kiss that never should’ve happened but that I couldn’t bring myself to regret.