Jack (The Family Simon Book 2) (14 page)

Brett turned and offered his hand and the frailty of him hit Jack like a punch to the gut. He gave his wine to Sabrina, set down his favorite little girl and engulfed his buddy in a hug meant for men. It was quick and hard and jam packed with emotion.

“Glad you’re here,” Brett said, voice gruff.

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “Me too. I would have come sooner if I’d known.”

“Trust me, sooner wasn’t good. I know it’s hard to believe, but I look a hell of a lot better now than I did a few weeks ago.”

Jack tried to smile and knew he probably failed. “You look good.”

“You’re as full of shit as your girlfriend.”

“Okaaay,” Sabrina said, drawing out the word in a drawl. “If we could stop the man-love for a moment, maybe Jack could start the salmon on the grill? I’ve already got it seasoned and wrapped in foil. While you get that done, I’ll grab us all a glass of wine?”

Jack nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Good,” Sabrina said lightly, her dark eyes touching each and every one of them. “It’s a full moon tonight and that means all sorts of things can happen. Let’s make some memories, shall we?”

“Dinner was lovely,” Donovan said as she brought in the last of the cutlery from outside.

Brett and Sabrina’s cottage was a lot more rustic than the Simons’, but it had a charm that was undeniable. Even the big old moose head above the fireplace somehow fit among the mish mash of furniture and throws. With the knotted oak cabinets painted a washed out white, worn hardwood floors, and shabby chic look, the place looked as if it was truly lived in.

Donovan loved it.

“Thank you,” Sabrina said, stowing the last of the plates in the dishwasher. “The salmon is easy to make. Just a bit of brown sugar and lime zest—“

“Lime zest?”

Sabrina gave her a WTF look and Donovan burst out laughing. “Um I don’t cook, so you might want to pass that info along to Jack.”

Sabrina leaned against the counter and reached for her glass of wine. “You don’t cook at all?”

“Nope,” Donovan answered with a smile. “Let’s just say cooking isn’t my forte. I can make soup out of a can, and that’s about it. Even then there’s always the chance I could burn it because trust me, I’ve never met a kitchen that didn’t somehow manage to make me look like a fool.”

“Well, cooking’s not for everyone, that’s for sure.” Sabrina drained the last of her wine and reached for the bottle on the counter. After pouring herself some more, she eyed Donovan in a way that made her nervous.

“You don’t enjoy wine?” she asked.

Shit. This woman didn’t miss a thing.

“I do,” Donovan answered. “Now and again.” No point in denying anything.

“Uh huh,” Sabrina said, a slow grin taking hold as she took another sip. “Just didn’t feel like wine tonight?”

“Nope,” Donovan answered lightly. “Not tonight.”

Morgan had followed Donovan inside, and she pulled herself up onto the chair and set her elbows down on the counter. Her long dark hair was pulled back into two ponytails that hung in spirals down her shoulders, and those big eyes were settled on Donovan.

“Are you and Uncle Jack going to get married?” Morgan pouted, and Donovan had to hide a grin because the little girl was being so darn serious. Her crush on Jack wasn’t hard to miss.

“Sweetie, that ain’t happening.”

“Ain’t isn’t a real word, you know. My kindie teacher taught me that because I used to say it all the time.”

“Kindie?” Donovan glanced at Sabrina.

“Kindergarten.”

Right.

“Are you his girlfriend then?” Morgan’s blue eyes were wide as she stared up at Donovan. “You’re pretty, and my daddy likes you. You made him smile when you started talking that funny way.”

Donovan had laid on her Arkansas twang heavy, telling a few jokes that had Brett nearly in stiches.

“I’m glad your daddy found me funny.”

“Me too,” Morgan said, her expression serious, her voice softer. “He’s sick you know.”

Hot tears spiked the corners of Donovan’s eyes, but she managed to keep them at bay and nod at the little girl. “I do,” she answered simply, glancing over to Sabrina who was dabbing at her eyes and suddenly very busy pouring in the detergent so that she could run the dishwasher.

“Mommy, do I have to have a bath tonight?”

Sabrina cleared her throat. “You do and you might as well head in now. Do you want me to come and run it for you?”

“Nope. I’m a big girl, Mommy. I can do it. I know to only fill it to the line. Can I take Barbie in with me?”

“Sure honey. I’ll be in to check on you in a bit.”

Donovan watched Morgan skip across the room and disappear, those little spiral ponies bouncing behind her. She blew out a long breath, aware that in just a few minutes, things had changed. No longer were the vibes light and confortable. They were big and heavy and full of sad things. They broke Donovan’s heart.

“He tries so hard you know? To act as if things are okay. As if they’re going to be okay.” Sabrina said, swirling the red wine in her glass and watching it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Brett does it for the kids. For me. For him. I can’t imagine being that strong all the time.”

“He loves you guys so much. I think it’s easier for him to be strong for you all then to dwell on…on his…” Donovan faltered, not knowing how to continue.

“He’s terminal,” Sabrina whispered, eyes shiny with unshed tears as she shuddered. “As of a month ago. They just can’t do anything more.”

“I’m so sorry.” What else did you say when confronted with that sort of thing?
I’m sorry
didn’t seem to be enough, but it was all she had.

“Thank you,” Sabrina said softly. “I’ve had him for over ten years and…” She shrugged, her smile sweet and filled with sorrow. But there was something else there. Something strong and light and full of love. “I wouldn’t trade ten years of wonderful for a lifetime of mediocre. I just wouldn’t. Not even if back then I knew this was coming at me.”

She blew out a long breath and took a sip of wine. “There are people that will never know or experience what I’ve had with my husband. They settle, you know? For money or comfort. Sometimes they settle because they’re just too damn lazy or they’re scared of being alone. None of them will ever know what it feels like to experience the kind of love that you can’t describe, because there’re no words for it. They won’t know unless they take that chance, and I feel sorry for the ones that don’t. The ones that settle or the ones that don’t even try.”

Sabrina tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled through her tears. “Sure I feel sorry for myself sometimes. I sink low, real low. But then I look at my children, and I know that I’ll always have Brett with me. I’ll always have our memories.”

Donovan didn’t bother to wipe away her tears. This woman, a woman she barely knew, had managed to burrow inside Donovan. To make her feel and think about things she didn’t want to.

She was one of the ones Sabrina should feel sorry for.

“You’re so strong,” Donovan said softly.

“I’m blessed,” Sabrina replied, giving her head a shake. “And apparently a total downer. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spill all of that on you.”

“Don’t worry about it. The spilling. It’s all good.”

Sabrina glanced at the now empty bottle of wine and then drained her glass. “I guess we’re out.”

Just then the door swung open and Brett shuffled in with Jack a few paces behind. Harry ran past all of them, yelling something about his Spiderman. Brett looked tired, but that didn’t diminish the power of his smile when he spied his wife.

Donovan’s heart melted. It unraveled into a million pieces, and the hurt that replaced it was intense. She had that once. That love.

Jack’s eyes were on her, and she swallowed hard at the look in them. They were empty. There was nothing there. At least nothing that he was willing to share with Donovan.

“We should go,” Jack said, helping his buddy over to a chair.

Sabrina joined Brett, her hands automatically rubbing his shoulder as she bent low and kissed him on the cheek.

“I expect to hear you sing tomorrow,” Brett said, his voice a little wobbly and weak.

Donovan nodded and walked over to Jack. “For sure. Sounds good.”

“Okay,” Brett said, his eyes on Jack. “You’ll get my kids out on the water?”

“Got it covered.” Jack’s hand was on her elbow. “We’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Donovan let Jack lead her outside, and she turned her face to the sky, drinking in the moonlight and the millions of stars that blanketed it.

“Watch your step,” Jack said gruffly when she stumbled over a knotted root from one of the trees that lined the path.

They trudged back to the boathouse and then up the steps that led to Jack’s cottage in silence, Coco following in their steps, the dog unnaturally quiet. Donovan supposed the little creature sensed how somber the mood had gotten, and she was more than happy to settle into silence.

Once inside, Jack crossed over to the bar and scooped up a bottle of scotch and nothing else. He turned without a word and headed back into the night.

For the longest time, Donovan stood alone in the middle of the great room with Coco panting at her heels. She was so messed up. Sad and scared and, well, she was also mad as hell.

She was mad at everything.

She glanced up at her room, the one that was farthest away from Jack’s, the silence of the room weighing on her like a stone.

Because most of all, Donovan was mad at herself for letting Derek McKenzie, a night gone wrong, and her past control her. She was mad because she’d let someone like Cooper Simon dictate her future.

She thought of what Sabrina had said, and she was ashamed because the woman was right. And because Donovan James was in the ‘settling for less’ club. Hell, she was the president of it. Jack Simon was the love of her life and for the first time, she began to question all of her choices. The ones that had led to her breaking it off with him, because she thought it was for the best.

At the time, it had been because she thought it was best for Jack. But really, with the long lens of time behind her, she knew she’d done it because she was a coward, and that it was not so much about Jack as it was about Donovan.

What did that say about herself, that she was willing to throw their love away? Did it mean that her love was so great she was willing to sacrifice all just to save him? Or was it to save herself? And if so, from what?

And what did it say about that night…that night she couldn’t exactly remember? The night she’d been so heartbroken over her fight with Jack. The night she’d had more wine than she should have?

The night Derek had taken her to his bed and then taped the whole damn thing? He’d used her, and she’d let him.

She groaned, more confused than ever, and slowly made her way up to her bedroom. She undressed and slipped under the covers, not bothering with a nightshirt.

Coco jumped onto the pillow beside her and there beneath the moonlight that streamed in from her window, the little dog was the only one to witness her tears.

Tears for Sabrina, Brett and their kids.

Tears for Jack and what might have been.

Tears for the girl she’d been and the woman she’d become.

It was a long time before she fell asleep. So long that she was aware when Jack came back. He was obviously drunk, and she heard him curse more than once as he banged into things on his way upstairs. She froze when she heard his steps heading not in the direction of his bedroom, but toward hers.

She bit her lip, eyes on the door when she heard him on the other side and she slid up onto her elbows, moistening lips salty from her tears.

“Jack,” she whispered, heart suddenly beating out of her chest. She would make things right. She would tell him everything. She would…

But his steps retreated and she jumped when she heard him slam his own door shut.

Donovan James stared into the darkness for so long that everything blurred. Everything melted together and became this thing that was so intimidating she didn’t want to think about any of it.

She’d do that tomorrow. Maybe.

Donovan burrowed back into the covers and fell asleep.

Jack woke up with one hell of a hangover.

Shit.

And he had no one to blame but himself. The bottle of scotch seemed like such a good idea at the time, but as he stumbled into the shower he was re-evaluating his thought process. His head hurt like hell, his mouth was disgusting and the pain that was rolling across his forehead was the kind of pain he’d not felt in a long, long time.

He was too old for this shit, and he reminded himself of that again when he caught sight of his bloodshot eyes in the mirror as he was taking care of the disgusting mouth thing.

Outside, the sky was blue and the sun was shining and when he glanced at the clock beside his bed, he swore, his already foul mood, darker. It was later than he would like, and he pulled on a pair of black board shorts, slipped his feet into worn sandals and scooped up a white T-shirt from his suitcase. He was surprised that Harry and Morgan weren’t already knocking at his door.

Just thinking of the kids made his gut turn, and he made his way down the stairs, surprised to smell cinnamon—burnt cinnamon but cinnamon nonetheless…

“I guess hell froze over when I wasn’t looking,” he said walking into the kitchen. “You made French toast?”

Donovan was at the sink scrubbing furiously. She didn’t answer him, and he crossed the room wincing as a fresh wave of pain kicked around inside his head. Reaching into the cabinet for some pain meds, he grabbed the orange juice container from the fridge and downed the entire thing, taking the pain meds along for the ride.

“You look like shit,” Donovan said, tossing a green and yellow scrub pad back into the sink.

“Yeah,” he replied, eyeing her up. Couldn’t say the same about her, because Donovan looked damn good.

A pair of jean cut-offs, a plain white T-shirt and the florescent lime green strings peeking out the top were enough to make him pay attention. He wondered if it was the same bikini she’d had in Belize. The one that had damn near driven him to distraction.