He moved so he was propped up on the bed, looking down at me. “I killed my father today. It wasn’t pretty, and yet, here you are, still watching over me. Still making sure I’m okay. That’s not something I’d expect from any woman.”
“I’m not just any woman, Donovan. I’m your woman, and I don’t desert the ones I care about in their hour of need.”
His eyes searched mine, and then he muttered, “Fuck, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
I held his face. “You’re a good man. Don’t ever underestimate that or doubt it, okay?”
He didn’t answer me, so I reiterated it. “Okay?”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he said softly.
“Good. Now, come back here and let me hold you. You need more sleep,” I said, bossing him around. And, for once, he let me.
My strong man needed me. He needed to know he was accepted for who he was, no matter what he did. And I was determined to give him that.
***
The next morning, I woke to find Donovan pacing the room while talking on his phone. I didn’t want to eavesdrop on his conversation so I got out of bed and headed into the kitchen to make coffee. He came out just as I’d finished, and I slid his mug across the counter to him.
Eyeing his clothes, I said, “It’s a good thing I like to buy you clothes.”
He smirked. “Yeah, baby.”
Donovan had once made fun of my clothes shopping addiction. It was pretty much my only girly trait and I’d bought him quite a few pieces, which he’d left here. Thank god, because they came in handy now.
We drank our coffee in silence until he murmured, “I don’t understand where Sharon got the gun from.”
“She came back into the bar while you were outside with Marcus. I was busy with customers, but managed to get out of her that you and he were fighting. I got distracted and didn’t realise she’d gotten the gun out of her bag.”
“Fuck, after all those years, she finally got rid of him. Mind you, he may not have died from the gunshot wound.”
“Probably a good thing you finished the job then,” I mused.
“Why?”
“Would he have retaliated against her if he’d lived?”
He thought about that and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I reckon he would have.”
I sipped my coffee and kept quiet. It was up to Donovan now to decide if he wanted to talk about it or not.
He surprised me when he did speak. “I don’t know what I feel.”
“Maybe it’s too soon, too fresh for you to know.”
“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time, and I thought I’d feel a sense of immense satisfaction.”
“And you don’t?”
“It’s odd. I don’t regret it for a minute, and I would do it again, but it’s not this overwhelming feeling of anything. It’s like I feel . . . nothing about it.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Fuck, that doesn’t even make fucking sense.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “After I did it, I felt a sense of justice . . . relief that he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again, but now, there’s just nothing.”
I reached across the kitchen counter and placed my palm on his chest. “Stop thinking, baby. Just let it be what it is.”
He covered my hand with his. “You do listen to me,” he said, his lips twitching.
I smiled. “Yeah, most of the time.”
He finished his coffee and rinsed his mug before coming back to me. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to take care of today, so I’m not sure what time I’ll see you later.”
“It’s all good. You take care of what you need to, and I’ll be here whenever you get back.”
He bent his face to kiss me and then asked, “Do you have any idea how much I need you in my life?”
“Probably as much as I need you in mine.”
I watched him leave and decided I’d never let him go.
Ever.
Donovan Brookes was it for me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Blade
I stepped through the front door of my mother’s house with trepidation. The news I had to break to her would either gut her or help her move on. I wasn’t sure which.
“Hey, baby,” she greeted me with a smile as she wiped down the kitchen counters.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” I said, getting straight to the point. I didn’t have it in me to drag this shit out.
She stopped what she was doing and turned to give me her full attention. “What is it?”
I took a deep breath. “Marcus is dead.”
Her eyes widened, and her whole body stilled.
I waited.
“How?” she asked eventually, her voice shaky.
I was never one to beat around the bush, so I didn’t start now. “I killed him.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God.”
Still unable to tell if she was upset or just in shock, I waited to see what she would say next.
She grasped the chair at the kitchen table and collapsed into it, but didn’t say another word.
I sat next to her. “I’m not sorry I did it, and I would do it again, but I’m sorry if it hurts you. I never wanted that for you.”
Reaching out for me, she cupped my chin. “Donovan, it hurts but mostly because my son had such a bad father he felt it necessary to kill him.” Her voice cracked as she continued. “I did that to you, and for that I am sorry.”