DONOVAN (Gray Wolf Security, #1)(12)
“Katie,” he said, reaching for me, “I’m so sorry.”
“You should be,” I said, allowing him to pull me close for a minute. “If you had been there, if we hadn’t…”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again.
“He’s dead. They did this to him.” I shuttered, as my imagination showed me a picture that was probably not far from the truth. Those boys, the same boys who’d confronted Donovan on the last day of school just after they found out that they wouldn’t be able to walk the stage at graduation because of a prank on the football coach that had gone wrong. Those boys who told Donovan they’d come for him, that he better watch his back. The same boys who wanted to hurt Donovan but killed my brother instead.
“It’s your fault.”
I felt every muscle in his body stiffen. I pulled back and looked up at him; I saw the guilt and the pain in his eyes.
“It’s your fault. If you hadn’t pulled that prank, if you hadn’t made it look like they did it—”
“Katie, that’s not—”
“You did this. You gave them reason to go after Joshua. And you weren’t there to protect him. You left him to this.”
“No, Kate.”
“You did. You’re the reason he’s on his way to the morgue, why my Daddy has to bury a child, why I have to live the rest of my life without my twin. It’s your fault.”
And then I hit him because I needed to hit something. I buried my fist in his chest over and over again. He never once tried to stop me, never made an attempt to grab my wrists. He just stood there, the most pain a human being is capable of feeling rushing through me, mirrored in his eyes. And when exhaustion caused me to fall to the floor, he knelt beside me and tried to help me to my feet.
“Don’t touch me!” I turned and looked at him. “I never want to see you again. Stay away from me, stay away from my dad. Disappear, Donovan.”
My last words to him were to order him to disappear. And he did. Not immediately. I saw him at the funeral; I saw my dad stop and talk to him. He didn’t even try to talk to me. And then he was gone. I didn’t even know where he’d gone until a mutual friend told me months later that he’d joined the Army, went off to be G.I. Joe. And that pissed me off. He didn’t even try. He just ran away, escaped the nightmare that I had to live every second of every day. It wasn’t bad enough that I lost my mom and then my brother. I also had to lose…
Anyway.
I stood in the shower and let the hot water wash over me, loving the way calming stream washed away some of the pain in my head. I just needed to get back to work. I needed to have a purpose. I’d learned a long time ago that a purpose helps make even the darkest days a little brighter. I needed Donovan not to be in my house. I needed to not be enveloped in all these memories that refused to go away.
My dad sure seemed happy to have Donovan back. Had he known he’d been back all this time? I knew Donovan had come back to Santa Monica. A mutual friend ran into him at a party about a year ago. Said he was quiet, distant. I laughed and said that Donovan was never quiet. And then I waited for him to show up, maybe stop by the house to see my dad. But he didn’t.
If this hadn’t happened, would Donovan have sought me out at all? Probably not. And I don’t suppose I would have either—if I were in his shoes. Who wants to face the reality of their own actions? But it still pissed me off for reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain.
I washed my hair, careful of the lump at the back of my head. It was pretty tender, and there seemed to be a little dried blood around it. I couldn’t remember what hit me, or even if something hit me or if I managed some bonehead move where I hit my head on something. It bothered me, this blank spot in my memory. I was always proud of how good my memory was. I never forgot anything, yet I’d somehow forgotten that I’d witnessed Joe’s death.
Poor Joe. He was a good guy. I’d miss seeing him standing there at the door every night.
I stepped out of the shower and dried myself, realizing I’d forgotten to bring clothes with me so I could dress here. Ash and all his damn cameras. I wrapped my towel tight around me and slipped out of the bathroom, rushing to my dresser to search for something comfortable. I glanced over my shoulder, looking for the camera or some wire or something. But there was nothing obvious.
And then I heard laughter.
I snuck up to the door and pressed my ear against it. Again there was a titter of laughter. Female laughter.
Who the hell did Donovan have here in my house?
I dressed quickly, forgetting about the camera, tugging on a pair of sweats and a light t-shirt. My hair still wet and dripping a little down my back, I slipped out of my bedroom and walked silently down the hall in my bare feet. There were definitely two voices. Donovan’s baritone and a woman’s higher pitched, overly sweet voice.
“There’s that apple stuff that you like so much. I don’t know how you can stand that stuff,” the woman said.
“You should try it. Then you’d understand.”
“If even Ash won’t eat it…”
She laughed and then there was a little squeal, followed by, “Cut it out!”
I turned the corner of the archway that led from the living room to the kitchen and found Donovan towering over a dark-haired girl where she was backed up against the refrigerator. He was holding something in his hand and was trying to force it into her mouth, but her head was turned, and she was laughing so hard that she probably couldn’t have swallowed anything anyway.