After the Storm (KGI #8)(63)

Thank God Travis had called her. Thank God for the maid who’d been willing to help them. If not for her, Cammie—and Travis—would still be under Walt’s control. Eve herself would be under his control. She shuddered at what could have been. What might have already been.

She’d questioned Travis and even Cammie, albeit very gently and very vaguely. She hadn’t wanted to traumatize Cammie, but she’d needed to know the extent of what Walt had done to her. If he’d ever touched her or, God forbid, gone even further. What kind of sick, twisted man could possibly do such a thing to his own daughter?

To make such overtures toward Eve was one thing. Sick, yes, but it wasn’t the same as forcing his attentions on a four-year-old daughter. He’d never made a secret of his distaste for Eve and the fact that she was his wife’s daughter from a previous marriage. Which made it hard for Eve to understand why Walt would suddenly make sexual overtures toward her. Maybe it had always been there. Maybe it was why he’d gone to such measures to control every aspect of Eve’s life. Perhaps he’d always planned to get rid of his wife as soon as she gave him the daughter he wanted. Which made Eve wonder why he’d wanted another child. Was it so he’d have his own plaything? An outlet for his twisted desires?

She couldn’t even dwell on it further because it made her sick to her soul.

“What are you thinking about, honey?”

Donovan’s gentle voice broke through the horror of her thoughts and brought her back to reality. She blinked, finding his gaze. He was staring thoughtfully at her, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to see inside her mind and know what she was thinking.

“H-him,” she stammered out, fighting back the wave of revulsion even speaking of him caused. She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. As if by saying it he would be conjured up and standing in the room with her.

He stroked her cheek, cupping her chin with a tender grasp.

“I don’t want you to think of him any longer. He can’t hurt you here. I won’t allow him near you or your brother and sister.”

She nodded, but the horror had yet to fade. In retelling Donovan everything, the first she’d spoken of the chain of events to anyone, the memories burned bright in her mind. Grief over losing her mother welled in her soul and threatened to overwhelm her. Months of running, of being afraid that at any moment Walt would find them and take them back had beaten her down until weariness—bone-deep fatigue—had blanketed her, suffocating her until she could barely breathe.

“You need to rest,” Donovan said gently. “And I need to get some food down Travis and Cammie. Want to help me wake them up and see if they’re up to eating? I thought you could sit with Cammie while she eats, and I’ll take Travis his food and give him another dose of pain medication after he eats.”

She nodded, eager to focus on anything but what consumed her thoughts. She wanted to see Cammie and Travis again, to reassure herself that they were here. Safe. Taken care of. Getting the food and medicine they both so desperately needed.

Donovan stood, reaching his hand down to help Eve to her feet.

“What about you?” he asked pointedly. “Are you still hurting?

She flushed, wanting to deny it, but her expression had already given it away.

He frowned at her but said nothing as he steered her toward the kitchen. When they got there, he warmed two plates of lasagna and then prepared two glasses of tea. Just when she thought that perhaps he was going to ignore her silent admission, he turned with the tray in hand.

“After Cammie and Travis have eaten, I’m going to give you another dose of pain medication and you’re going to sleep. I wonder when the last time was you got a full night’s rest?”

She dropped her gaze guiltily.

“That’s what I thought,” he said grimly. “Come on. We’ll check in on Travis and get him situated and then I’ll take you to Cammie’s room so you can help her eat.”

Though his hands were full, he walked beside her, lending her his strength, though he didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Just being there was enough. He matched his pace to her much smaller one, and she glanced down, realizing she was still clad in only her underwear and his shirt.

When they reached Travis’s room, she opened the door, eager to see how he was doing. If he was still hurting. And offer him reassurance that they were safe. She’d broadcasted her doubts to him. He’d picked up on her unease when they’d entered this place. Now she wanted to reassure him that she’d chosen wisely. She was sure of it.

Travis was still sleeping and she hated to wake him, but she knew he needed to eat and he likely needed more pain medication. His brow was creased even in sleep, his expression tense as though he were indeed in pain. She touched his forehead, running her hand gently across his brow.

He stirred beneath her touch and opened his eyes. They were cloudy with sleep and remnants of fatigue and pain.

“Hey,” she whispered. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” he said quickly. But when he tried to shift and sit up, he grimaced and quickly settled back against the pillows.

“Don’t try to move,” Donovan cautioned. “Just take it slow and easy. I’ve brought you something to eat. Eve and I will help you maneuver so you can eat. Then I’ll give you another dose of pain medication so you can rest.”