Renovation (A Golden Beach Novel) Read online

  Without thinking, he threw his phone with all of his might at his reflection. The ruined image looking back at him, through the spider web of broken glass, offered temporary comfort. He knew his demons were heading for the surface, clawing to get out and tear down the life he’d built.

  Kneeling, he pulled his phone from the fallen shards of glass. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. He sighed as he dialed the familiar number and left a message.

  “Dr. Zeman, it’s Donovan Miller. I need to get in for a session as soon as possible.”

  Valerie pushed her grocery cart to the line of people waiting to pay. Her cart was full of the ingredients for her mom’s famous lasagna, crusty French bread, a nice bottle of wine, and since Donovan had a sweet tooth, strawberries and chocolate.

  Tonight was the night she was going to tell him how she felt. The morning had greeted her with an email from Drew, giving her the welcome news that she wouldn’t have to appear in court. That weight gone from her shoulders, coupled with the fact that things had changed since Donovan’s flashback, since he’d finally opened up a little, gave her the courage to take down her walls.

  “Looks like a nice dinner you’ve got planned here.” Marcie, her favorite cashier, grinned over the bottle of wine as she rang it up.

  “I hope so.”

  “You’re good for him. He’s never been so happy in the three years I’ve known him.”

  She looked around at the people in line behind her and felt a blush creep up her neck. “Thanks, Marcie.”

  After signing for her purchases and grabbing the cute, reusable bags she’d actually remembered to bring, she headed to her car, pondering Donovan’s life before she’d become part of it. He’d been in her life, sort of, before she went to Braley. She remembered seeing him with John and Grace at barbecues and parties occasionally, but she’d never taken the time to talk to him. He’d been new, an outsider, fresh out of probie school, and new to the department. John, true to form, took him under his wing as a kind of apprentice.

  Had Donovan really not been his happiest before her? It made her stomach flip to think so. She tried to remember all the reasons she’d come up with for not admitting her feelings. She’d been hurt over and over, physically damaged by Mick, emotionally wrecked by Blake.

  All the plans for her life had changed based on the man she was involved with. Her choices had left her little brother, Simon, buried in the Golden Beach cemetery. He was dead because of her inability to focus on anything other than her boyfriend.

  Those seemed like pretty solid reasons to keep her heart closed off when they were laid out like that. Even under the ashes of her past heartache, there it sat, a burning ember that was Donovan. She couldn’t keep it from igniting a fire inside her, something so much stronger than anything she’d felt for Mick or Blake.

  As she pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, butterflies started fluttering in her stomach. As if he knew she was thinking of him, her phone buzzed.

  “Hey there, hotshot. What are you up to?”

  “I’ve got a surprise for you.” His voice held a hint of mischief and a healthy dose of seduction.

  “Really? Me, too.”

  “What are your plans for tonight?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, I was hoping to get you all to myself. I just got back from the grocery store. I got all the stuff for lasagna. We’re celebrating.”

  “Mmm, sounds great. Sign me up. What are we celebrating?”

  “I got an email from Drew. I won’t have to testify in person. I can provide a sworn statement and add it to the case already built against Mick. Drew says the photos are down and the police have seized all of them as well as a bunch more Mick took of other girls he victimized. He’s going to jail unless there’s some epic failure in the British justice system.”

  “Wow. You sure know how to pick ‘em, sweetheart.”

  She scoffed, unable to find the right words to rebuff him.

  “Too soon?”

  “A little.” She couldn’t keep the sardonic note from her voice. “Do my plans mess up your surprise?”

  A low chuckle sent shivers up her spine. “No, it’s perfect actually. I’ve got a few more things to take care of, but I should be home in about an hour.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  Her heart flipped at the prospect of seeing him. She’d left him sleeping peacefully this morning after he returned from his shift. It had been busy at the station with two barn fires that kept his crew up most of the night. He’d come in looking dog-tired with dark circles under his green eyes. While she drank her coffee and they chatted, he struggled to stay awake open at the table. She’d finally pulled him to the bedroom and encouraged him to catch up on some sleep.

  An hour after talking to him on the phone, the apartment was illuminated by candles and filled with the scent of lasagna and garlic bread. She zipped up her favorite cocktail dress and spun around to get a good view of herself in the mirror. Her hair tumbled down her back in waves just like Donovan liked it. She grinned at her reflection, knowing she looked good. She was excited about the prospect of driving him wild, then finally admitting that she loved him while they spent the night together.

  She glanced at the clock, worry starting to creep in as the time ticked by. He’d said an hour, hadn’t he? Irritation flared when she inspected her phone and saw no missed calls or messages from him. She huffed out a breath and poured herself a glass of wine as she settled in to wait.

  And wait . . .

  Chapter 29

  Dinner with Valerie, all to himself, it couldn’t be more perfect if he’d planned it. Donovan hung up his phone and smiled as he ran his fingers over the satin bow of the small blue box in his hand. He’d taken the opportunity to sneak out as soon as she’d left and drove the two hours to Richmond, to Tiffany & Co. His heart had pounded as he’d walked through those doors. Never in his life did he imagine he’d be here, ready to jump in with both feet. She may not be in a place where she could actually say the words, but he knew she loved him. He felt it in his bones, she was the only one for him.

  Halfway home, ready to commit himself to her and the stability of building a life together, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. His phone rang and he answered immediately, hoping it was Dr. Zeman’s office scheduling his session.

  “Hello?”

  “Donovan, it’s Aunt Viv.”

  His heart jumped into his throat.

  “Is she dead?” he whispered, pulling the jeep over to the side of the freeway.

  Viv’s shattered sobbing on the other end of the line was all the answer he needed. His heart broke into a million raw shards, each one stabbing him over and over again. He couldn’t save her. His mother, always so gentle and loving, was gone.

  “When?”

  “About an hour ago. Donnie, she . . . she went easy, never woke up.”

  “And what about him? Does he know what he did to her?”

  “He’s being informed now. He’ll be brought up on murder charges. The lawyer told me you’ll need to testify—you and the girls.”

  Shit, he felt like he was going to be sick. He never wanted to see that sorry excuse for a human being again and now he had to go in front of a judge and relive his childhood nightmare.

  “Your dad’s asked to see you. He wants to talk to you about . . . I don’t know, everything.”

  “I want nothing to do with that fucking bastard.”

  “I know, honey. But he’s still your father. Are you sure you won’t see him?”

  “I hate him. I have nothing but horrible memories of my life with him. Why should I see him? So I can be forced to remember a childhood filled with fear? And why the fuck have you been talking to him, Viv?”

/>   Viv sighed. “He’s my brother.”

  “He’s a murderer. Margaret’s lucky she left him when she did. She was the smart one.”

  “The boys are coming in next week. Will you see them?”

  His three half-brothers, two of which he rarely spoke to, were all estranged from their dad and had been since their mom left. He only saw them on the rare occasion they were all at their grandmother’s house at the same time. Usually once a year at Christmas.

  “Maybe, I don’t know.” His chest hurt at the thought of Christmas without his mom. Their family might have been screwed up, but he still loved her more than anything and Christmas was the only sacred time in their house.

  “I’ve got to go, honey. When will you be here? The lawyer needs to talk to you, the police need your statement, your sisters need you.”

  His head started spinning. “Soon. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He hung up the phone without waiting for her response and put the jeep in gear. His chest felt like it was going to explode as panic started to take over. Every moment he got closer to home brought more anxiety. He had to tell Valerie, but what would she do?

  Instead of taking the exit that would lead him home, to Valerie and his future, he drove on, fueled by anger and hatred for himself and his father. He drove to the only place he felt he could forget it all. In a blind rage, he left everything behind as he sat at the bar and pounded scotch after scotch.

  Fuck the rest of the world.

  Fuck responsibility.

  Fuck feeling anything.

  The harsh sound of pounding on the front door woke her from a fitful sleep. Valerie looked around the apartment she’d come to love and a heavy sadness settled over her. He’d never come home. The candles were burned down to low, flickering ends. A knot of worry formed in her stomach as she checked the clock and realized it was the early hours of the morning. Apprehension tickled the back of her neck as she padded to the entryway.

  “Hello?” She peered through the peephole, unsure of who was standing outside.

  “Valerie? It’s Tommy Klipper.”

  Alarm bells rang in her head and she whipped the door open. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

  He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “He’s okay. He’s, well, he’s in jail.”

  She sagged in relief. He was okay. He was alive, but in jail? Her face must have betrayed her worry because he placed a cautious hand on her shoulder as if to steady her.

  “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

  She nodded and led him into the living room. “You want coffee?”

  A faint grin passed over his handsome face. “I’ll make it, you sit.”

  He set about the kitchen, filling the pot with water, grinding some beans, and turning on the machine. Moments later, the comforting sound of the coffee percolating and the aroma of dark roasted beans brewing filled the kitchen. She perched herself atop a bar stool and stared at this relative stranger, making himself at home in the sacred space she shared with Donovan.

  After pouring them each a generous cup and doctoring his own with cream and sugar, he took the stool next to hers. His face looked wan and stressed.

  “He went to a bar downtown. Drank damn near an entire bottle of scotch.”

  “So they arrested him? Getting drunk in a bar isn’t a crime.”

  “Your old boss, that Tyler Ingram guy, was there. From what I could gather, he made some comment about you. Donovan lost it. Just started wailing on the guy. Ingram’s in the hospital, Donovan’s being held until they know if Ingram will press charges.”

  Her stomach dropped. What in the world had just happened? Why would he go to a bar when he said he was coming home?

  “He’s been struggling. Do you know if anything is going on with him? I mean, first it was lying about his flashbacks, then he and Sully almost got killed because of his lies. He’s walking a fine line. This might get him suspended.”

  “What do you mean, he almost got killed?”

  His lips pressed together in a thin line. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No, but you’d better.”

  “He had a serious flashback during a call. Part of the building collapsed and Sully got hurt. Bad.” His eyes were pained. “He’s struggled with PTSD since John died. He was there when it happened, you know? John saved him.”

  Her chest ached at the thought of what Donovan must have been going through. She knew he’d been there, that he’d dealt with flashbacks, but he’d never mentioned anything like this.

  “You want to bail him out?” he asked, taking a long sip of coffee.

  She stared at the mug in her hands and traced the rim with her index finger. Did she want to bail out a violent drunk? She looked around at the remnants of her ruined evening. This was not how it was supposed to have gone. They were supposed to be safe in each other’s arms, settled and happy. The knowledge of their union secure after her admission of love. A tear tumbled down her cheek and she swiped at it.

  “Give me a minute.”

  Grabbing the ruined lasagna, she dumped it in the trash, dish and all. She stalked back to the bedroom and changed out of her dress and into jeans and a cotton T-shirt. No sense looking good when he probably wouldn’t remember anyway. She swept her hair into a ponytail and slipped her feet into a pair of shoes before snatching up her keys and purse.

  “Ready?” She downed the rest of her coffee and threw the door open.

  “You want me to drive?”

  “Nope. In fact, you can go home. I’ve got this.” She turned to him, trying desperately to keep it together. “Thank you for coming to get me. And for telling me everything.”

  Klipper surprised her by wrapping her in his arms. “He’s lucky to have you. I hope that bastard knows it.”

  Chapter 30

  “How could you not tell me about this?” Valerie’s voice was shrill in her own ears, the trembling unmistakable. “I had to find out from Klipper.”

  “I . . . I didn’t want you to know.”

  “What were you going to do? Wait until they let you out of the drunk tank, then make up some story?” Tears burned the back of her throat. “You’ll be lucky if Ingram doesn’t press charges.”

  “He’s a fucking asshole.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Donovan.”

  “I lost it. He told me how lucky I was to have such a great piece of ass. That he’d heard you were a great lay, and I lost it.”

  He looked like hell and he smelled even worse. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, his jaw showed the purple shadow of a bruise. She turned away from him, her heart breaking but he pulled her into his arms.

  “Ugh, you smell like a distillery.” She pushed him away even though it physically hurt her to deny him.

  “Sweetheart—”

  She turned on her heel and shot him an angry glare. “What?”

  “Thank you.”

  He was broken, but she didn’t know why. He refused to talk, to open up. Instead, he’d chosen the company of a bottle of scotch. She couldn’t do this again. The possessive behavior, the drinking, it was all too much like Mick.

  “I’m gonna shower.”

  “Fine. Then we need to talk.”

  She watched him walk away from her, his shoulders hunched in defeat. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, take care of him, love him. She took a strengthening breath instead and bolstered her resolve. She knew what she needed to do.

  After talking with Klipper, she realized just how deep Donovan’s issues ran. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, but it needed to happen. He needed to admit he wasn’t coping on his own.

  The door to the bathroom squeaked open and he stood, bathed in floating tendrils of steam, eyes bloodshot, but still looking every inch like the man she
loved. Her heart squeezed and a lump formed in her throat.

  “Just let me get dressed, okay?” His voice sounded rough and broken.

  She listened to the sound of drawers opening and closing, the rustle of cloth sliding over his body. When he padded into the living room, she thought she might cry. The guarded look on his face couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes.

  Valerie took a breath, ready to launch into her prepared speech, but he caught her off guard by kissing her lightly. The scent of his minty breath and freshly washed skin chipping away pieces of her resolve.

  When he pulled away, his face was hard. “This isn’t working, Valerie.”

  Her heart dropped like a stone into her stomach. “What?”

  “Us. We aren’t working.”

  “I’m sorry, when did this happen?” She was shocked, her chest tightening as panic closed in.

  He looked down at his denim-clad thighs. “I can’t keep doing this. You need more from me and I don’t have it to give.”

  “Bullshit. You have it, you just won’t give it. Be honest with yourself, Donovan. You’ve been lying to me, to everyone. You’re not fine. You’re actually so afraid of admitting you need help you’re going to torpedo the only good thing you’ve got.”

  His gaze shot to hers, piercing and angry. “What? You? You’re the only good thing? No, you’re just a good lay. The best I’ve had in a long time, but that’s all you are. You want to be with someone who’s not fucked up? Someone who’s gonna give you the life you want? Go give Dr. Monroe a call. Or are you too afraid he’s gonna drop you again?”