Chapter 3
Davina stood in her kitchen slicing fruit, a little black dog whining at her feet.
“You don’t even like cantaloupe. You’ll just spit it out somewhere, and I’ll step on it in the middle of the night.
” She added the cubes to a big bowl of fruit salad, the second thing she’d made since waking at four a.m.
Zach was on his way here, and there was no sleep for the wicked.
The dog whimpered as she opened the refrigerator, and she shook her head with a sigh, selecting a package of hot dogs instead of the grapes she’d meant to grab.
“Just one.” The dog danced, his tail wagging furiously as she cut up the meat and put it in his dish.
She ran her hand down his curly fur as he ate.
“This is going to be a very bad day, Piggy.”
She stood, her attention catching on the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. The dog took off, barking furiously as adrenaline doused Davina’s bloodstream. She hastily threw the cutting board into the sink and wiped her hands on her jeans, looking around the kitchen to see what he would see.
It hadn’t changed much since he’d lived here—a fresh coat of paint, new countertops. It was the house where Zach was raised, and she suddenly felt every bit the interloper. She headed for the door, hoping the barking dog wouldn’t wake up Wyatt. “Stop it, Piggy. It’s okay.”
She saw the red sports car before she saw him, standing out against a threatening purple sky and as out of place in this neighborhood as a vehicle could be. She picked up the dog and opened the door, a wave of vertigo washing over her as Zach got out of the car and stood.
She held her breath. Calling him had been an act of desperation, a necessary evil to help his brother. But she didn’t want this man here any more than she wanted the devil himself to roll up to the curb, and she certainly didn’t want him anywhere near her child.
Even still, she was aware of the traitorous rush of blood down low in her abdomen, the heat in her cheeks. At least her mind knew not to trust this man, her body’s reaction be damned, and she cursed the desperation that had made her bring up Wyatt on the phone.
But she was desperate. Ben’s freedom hung in the balance, and whatever his faults, he was certainly not a murderer.
He’d been an integral part of her life and Wyatt’s since before the boy was even born, and for that she was grateful.
If she could repay even a fraction of what he’d done for them, she owed him that.
She was hyperaware of Wyatt upstairs in his room. The sudden arrival of his father was bound to be confusing for the boy on the best of days, and with the charges against Ben, this was drastically far from being the best of anything.
Zach walked up to the house, removing his sunglasses as he went. Damn, he looked good, his black hair tousled and thick, those eyes that had once seen into her soul now narrowed at her in scrutiny. He didn’t want to be here. That was perfectly clear from his body language alone.
She hated the way his presence made her feel, like a piece of garbage he couldn’t even bother to pick up and throw away. A lifetime ago, she’d lit up whenever he was near. Now, she could barely keep her chin in the air.
She forced it a notch higher as he climbed the steps, and she found her voice. “You came.”
“You told me I have a child. What did you think I was going to do? Ask you to email pictures?”
She was struck by his height, an inch or two taller than the last time she’d seen him, though he’d already fathered the child in her womb.
That was how Wyatt’s life had begun, and while she couldn’t be sorry for the existence of her son, the older and wiser Davina could see just how young they’d been.
A part of her ached for them both, and what life would bring.
She opened the screen door and held it. “Come in.” Piggy growled in her arms, and she loved that dog more in that moment than in all the ones before. Davina led the way to the living room and gestured for him to sit down. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Was it your idea to call me?”
“It was Ben’s. He says without your help, it’s an open-and-shut case.”
He crossed his arms, the corded muscles standing out against his tan skin. “How could you not tell me, Davina?”
He was angry. She couldn’t blame him for that.
Long ago she’d made a decision to keep her son’s existence a secret from his father, and it was time to pay the price for the choice she’d made.
She moved to the well-worn corner of a leather sofa and sat.
“I was going to tell you at basic training. That was why I went.”
So much was tied up in this story. So many thoughts, so much angst. Shame.
That’s what she was feeling. God, this was even harder than she’d feared it would be.
“Can you sit down, please? You’re making me nervous.
” He sat in the matching leather chair, which was so rarely used, it looked brand new.
She took a deep breath. “I went there to tell you about the baby. You were angry with me, do you remember?”
“Of course I do.”
She winced at the disdain in his voice. The dog hopped off her lap. “It was all I could do to get you to listen to me.”
“We went to lunch.”
She nodded, remembering the scene. She’d been nauseated, the smell of Zach’s burger doing nothing to quell her stomach.
“You thanked me.” Her eyes stung sharply, surprising her.
Damned if she would let him see her cry.
“You said you’d been ready to give up everything for me—the Navy, your dreams of becoming a SEAL—and that you were glad you’d caught me with your brother, so you could be free. ”
His gaze was steely, reflecting no emotion, just as it had been that day. She could remember the pain of her plans slipping away, her hopes for a reconciliation, that maybe they could be a family. He hated her, and nothing she could possibly say would change that.
“You said there was nothing for you in this town,” she continued. “That you would have become a used car salesman like your father. That you’d have been a loser, just like Ben.” She shook her head at that. “Your words, not mine.”
“Sorry if I badmouthed your future husband.”
So he knew. A weight slipped off her shoulders.
At least she wouldn’t have to confess that, too.
“He’d asked me just before I went to see you.
He knew about the baby.” She stared, unseeing.
“I had a choice. I could tell you I was pregnant, taking away everything you ever wanted and tying us together forever, or I could let you go and marry Ben. I could have a chance at a happy life with a man who loved me.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Fuck you, Davina.” He stood and began to pace. “It wasn’t your choice to make. You had no right to take my child away from me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “To be raised by my brother, of all people!”
“Ben has been a tremendous help.” She hated to hear him talk about Ben like he was worthless. “But he didn’t raise Wyatt. We didn’t get married after all.”
He stopped pacing. “What?”
“We were engaged for a few months, but in the end we realized we made better friends than anything.”
“Than lovers?” He crossed to her slowly, like an animal on the attack, and her heartbeat accelerated. He squatted down in front of her. “You’re blushing. That’s a nice touch. Can’t you even say it? Lovers.”
She could smell his scent, a heady mix of sandalwood and spice, and she wrestled with whether to set the record straight or preserve what was left of her dignity. Lying to this man had only brought her sorrow, so she opted for the harder course. “I never slept with Ben.”
He stood abruptly and scoffed. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You were damn near fucking him the last time I saw you together.”
“You don’t have a clue what you saw. He was upset, devastated by your parents’ deaths. He made a mistake.”
“Upset? I was upset! They were my parents, too, and my girlfriend was in bed with my brother.”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
He crossed his arms, nostrils flaring. “Why were you in Ben’s room?”
“He’d been away at college. It was a guest room, remember?
It never occurred to me that room was his space when he was in town.
I just needed to sleep.” Her palms broke out in a sweat.
“He thought I was waiting for him. I thought he was you. He curled up next to me while I was sleeping. By the time I opened my eyes and realized it wasn’t… ”
“Your eyes were open when I walked in. You knew exactly who you were kissing.”
“It wasn’t like that.” She swallowed hard. “I felt so sorry for him, Zach.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she knew how a mouse must feel staring up at a cat. “I was comforting him.”
“Stroking his face. Resting your forehead against his.”
She remembered it all, knew how compromising a position he’d found them in. Yet she hadn’t cheated on this man, no matter what he believed. “I explained that to you.”
He leaned down, his face only inches from hers, the scent of him filling her lungs and setting her nerve endings on fire. His gaze raked over her features from brow to chin and back up again. “I want a paternity test.”
She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away. Piggy barked at Zack.
“Hey!” yelled Wyatt. She turned toward the door just as her son lunged awkwardly toward his father, hands balled into fists. “Leave her alone!”
How long had he been standing there?
For the briefest moment, she stared at the tableau they made. Father and son, anger and hurt, mirror images of one another separated by only a difference in height. She grabbed Wyatt’s arm to pull him away, surprised to realize he was too strong. “It’s okay, he wasn’t going to hurt me.”
Wyatt’s glare never left Zach. “Who is this?” he demanded.
“This is Zach. He’s here to help Uncle Ben.”
Zach held up his hands defensively. “I wanted to meet you.”
She watched Wyatt’s features for a reaction, any kind of softening, but saw none.
She knew what this moment meant to him, knew how much her little boy had pined for his father in his life, but Wyatt’s mouth settled into a sneer.
“I don’t give a shit about you.” He shook off his mother’s grip and pointed at his father, just as Zach had pointed at her.
“Don’t you freaking touch her. You understand me? ”
Zach’s palms were still facing him. “I got it.”
Wyatt turned and left the kitchen, all but storming up the steps.
It was quiet in the boy’s wake, the significance of the moment seeming to hang between them for long moments.
“Where’s Ben?” Zach asked.
She rattled off the address. “Are you going to help him?”
“No. I’m going to kill the rat bastard.”
She could only hope that wasn’t true. The Sato brothers had a lot to sort out between them, and she doubted physical violence was out of the question.
He opened the door, then turned around. “Tell Wyatt I’ll be back.”
A burst of nervous energy danced in her stomach. He wasn’t going to give up on their son so easily, and the first flicker of hope lit in her breast. She nodded. “Dinner’s at seven. Don’t be late.”