Chapter Seven

Imanaged to avoid "D" the rest of the evening. I don"t even remember seeing him leave. I don't know if I was disappointed or relieved. Tia left an hour ago, leaving Ricky, the chef, me, and Boston to close. After I finish cleaning the bar area and restock the liquor, I gather the garbage bags propped against the back door. As I walk out to the dumpsters in the alley, a dark silhouetted figure emerges from the darkness. A banshee scream comes out of me, and the figure jerks back into the shadows. He steps forward, I take a step back. A sudden overwhelming feeling of fear settles in, and my body trembles. He takes another step forward; I take another step back until my back is against the front of the dumpster. For some reason, I can"t move my feet to run the hell out of here. Panic starts to obscure my sense to protect myself, until I see his face.

Even his beautiful face is illuminated while standing underneath the lamppost. His hands are tucked inside the pockets of his jeans. A sudden wave of relief crashes down on me, drowning me in a blanket of security.

"Holy...!" I shriek with frustration, holding my hands to my chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack. Who just walks up on someone like that?"

"Sorry." He chuckles while walking toward me. His sweet smile makes me melt like butter. He looks down to his feet and back up to my face.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugs. "Just hanging around."

"Why don't I believe you?" I raise my eyebrows.

He doesn't respond but chuckles and strokes his chin.

There"s a long stretch of silence between us until it"s broken by the sound of his voice. "What does that mean?" He points at the tattoo on my left wrist.

Looking down at my wrist, I respond, "me elevaré —I will rise." I say it in a soft tone, almost like a whisper. He reaches for my wrist and holds it in his hand and gently rubs the tat with the base of his thumb.

Typically, a touch since Christian, even the slightest contact from a guy, will cause my body to shut down instantly, constricting my throat and making it difficult to breathe. But not with this boy"s touch, which is unsettling. Not only are his eyes familiar, but his caring touch feels like home. It comforts me, putting my mind and body at ease. I have longed for this feeling of compassion and love for years. I never thought I would ever feel it again. He lifts my chin up until my eyes are gazing into his.

"Hey." His voice is so deep and sexy it vibrated deep into my soul.

"Hi."

"I'm Donovan," he says in a warm tone.

"I thought you were going to wait until you came back to tell me." I chuckle, looking away pulling my hand out of his.

"Yeah, well, I couldn"t wait to see you again."

My head snaps up at his comment. I couldn"t look away from him even if I tried. The look in his eyes hypnotizes me, jumbling my thoughts.

"Are you flirting with me?" I tease.

"Maybe." He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. "But I think I'm losing my touch. That was pretty cheesy." He laughs turning away. When he looks back at me, he says, "Your beauty is so distracting it made me forget my pickup line."

I could feel myself blush.

With a chuckle, I say, "That was pretty cheesy."

"Ok, how about this. I think there's something wrong with my phone. If I give you my number, would you call it?"

We both end up laughing. God, it feels good to laugh.

Donovan steps closer until I'm assaulted with his scent. My breath catches and he notices because he smiles and takes that as an invitation when he steps closer. Our foreheads are nearly touching.

Is he going to kiss me? Would I let him?

"Ma—" A voice interrupts him before he can finish.

"Hey. I thought you left?" Boston interjects before he can finish, looking over my shoulder to Donovan and back to me. "Sadie, you alright?" He takes a few steps toward me.

"I'm fine." I nervously clear my throat.

Boston keeps his eyes on Donovan, not convinced.

Donovan doesn't move when he responds, "What? You think I'm going to hurt her?" His piercing blue eyes are fixated on me.

"Sadie?" Boston asks again.

My eyes are darting back and forth his mouth and back to his eyes. If I just lean in a little closer, my lips will touch his. Boston's third attempt to gain my attention forces the thoughts away.

"He"s just a friend." I say over my shoulder keeping my eyes on the boy standing way to close to me. When Boston doesn't respond, I turn to face him. I give him a reassuring smile. Boston nods and walks back inside, but not before he says, "Alright, well I'll wait for you up front."

"I'll make sure she gets to her car safely," Donovan quickly responds.

"It"s fine, Boston. Really. I promise," I reassure him.

Once Boston is convinced, he waves a two-finger salute and walks back inside.

"Where were we?" Donovan flashes me a sexy grin, my stomach does cartwheels.

"You were just leaving," I tease even though my voice betrays me. "It was nice to meet you and thank you again for earlier." I turn on my heels and start to walk back to the door even though my body is calling out to him like a magnet.

"If I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry." He calls out.

For some reason, I believe him, which scares me and my fear kicks in. He doesn't' scare me or puts off any stalkerish vibes. I think it's safe to be around him.

"Do you really want me to leave?"

No.

I shake my head in response.

"Good, because I don't want to." His smile is genuine. He tucks a strand of my hair around my ear and gently slides his finger down my cheek.

My body shivers. Why do I love his touch so much?

"Let me walk you to your car."

This time I roll my eyes. "Despite what you think, I am capable taking care of myself."

"I didn't say you couldn't. Can't I just walk a pretty girl to her car?" His lips turn up into a crooked grin. I feel a warm, tingling sensation burning my cheeks.

After Ricky locks up, I walk around the corner and notice Donovan leaning against the building with one leg on the ground and the other against the wall. Both hands are tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, his attention toward the night sky. He looks so peaceful. Makes me want to run into his arms just so he can hold me.

"Hey."

When he hears my voice, Donovan pushes off from the building and walks toward me with both hands still tucked into his pockets.

"Hey," he says back with a smile.

"Ready?" He motions with his head toward the lot.

I nod and start walking toward my car with Donovan right behind. We don't speak, just walk in silence The night's mild cool breeze brings a sense of calmness, forcing a small smile to my lips as I tilt my head up to the sky. Appreciating the most minor things in a dark world. I turn and face Donovan when I feel someone watching me. He"s staring at me with adoration like he"s fascinated by the weird chick smiling at nothing.

"This is me." Gesturing to my car, I add, "Thank you for walking with me."

While digging in my purse for my keys, I hear him say, "I'm going to follow you to make sure you get home safe." His words don't leave any room for argument. I look up to see him scanning the parking lot. I follow his gaze lingering at something in the distance, and that's when I see him. The creep from the bar. He's leaning against a car smoking a cigarette, watching. Watching us.

Donovan's body tenses up, and his hands are clenched at his sides. This is why he waited for me.

"Oh, my god. Has he been there this whole time?" This doesn't ease the anxiety building within me. It wouldn't be surprised if he was sent by Christian.

Donovan turns back to face me. "Yeah, he has. I kept my eyes on him when he left. When I noticed him lingering around, I stayed behind to make sure he wouldn't go after you."

I didn't know what to say to that. His kindness and protectiveness really threw me off. The only other person who was this protective was Josiah.

We turn our heads when the creeper starts his car and drives away. The unsettling feeling doesn't go away.

"I'll follow you home." He doesn't give me a chance to protest.

With an arrogant grin on his handsome face, he dares me to fight him on it.

"Yeah, I don't think so."

"It wasn't a request." He argues.

"Are you serious?" I let out a sarcastic laugh. "You don't know me, and I don't know you. Do you honestly think I'm going to let a stranger follow me home?" I shake my head in disbelief.

When I turn to face him, the grin is still plastered on his face. "Serious like a heart attack." He crosses his arms over his broad chest.

This arrogant mother…

"You must be out of your mind."

"No, I don't think so."

"Wha—" This guy is serious.

"What makes you think I won't go to the cops and report your ass?" I argue.

His face brightens as he smiles, awakening the adorable dimple on his right cheek. He walks towards me until we're face to face. With both hands still tucked away in his pockets, he tilts his head to the right making sure my eyes are fixed solely on his.

"Because deep down, you know you're safe with me."

"Oh, yeah. And how do you figure?"

"Well, you could've told me to fuck off at the bar, but you didn't. You let me tough you without slapping my hand away, and you let me walk you to your car at night, when everyone is gone. Admit it. You're comfortable around me because you know I would never hurt you. Tell me I'm wrong. If I'm wrong, then I'll leave you alone."

You're not wrong.

He knows he's won. I haven"t felt like this in a long time. So vulnerable and exposed. It feels safe and comfortable. Without saying another word, we get in our separate cars and drive away from the lot.

Twenty minutes later, I pull on the side of the road. I notice Mom sent me a text a few hours ago that Dad wasn"t home and would be gone for a few days. He must be on a gambling escapade since it's still the weekday and he doesn't go on the road until Friday.

Turning the ignition off, in the rearview mirror I notice Donovan sitting in his black Porsche 718 Cayman sports car. How does an eighteen-year-old own a sixty-some thousand-dollar vehicle while I drive a used turd that costs as much as I make in a year?

Donovan finally emerges from his car after I step out of my Tracer and lock the doors. A look of dread appears on his face when he looks at me wide-eyed, mouth agape. His eyes bounce back and forth to me and back to the house like a game of ping pong. I look back to the house, wondering why a shadow cast over the light in his eyes, but there"s nothing and no one there, just the soft white porch light glowing in the darkness.

"Are you ok?" Then, slowly walking toward him in small steps.

"How long have you lived here?" he whispers in an uneasy tone.

Donovan stands frozen in place, like a statue just staring at the house. My voice snaps him out of his trance. "All my life. Why?"

His eyes meet mine with tears flooding his view. "No. It can"t be. How is this possible?" He said brokenly.

Neither one of us moves. Donovan continues to glance between me and the house with a heart-wrenching look of shock on his face when his eyes widen once they land on me.

What the hell is going on?

"Sandlot." He swallows.

A wave of the past smacks me right in the face.

"What di-di-did you say?"

Did he just use a safe word I shared with the little boy from my past?

No. This can"t be real.

This is a dream—a dream I will wake up from at any moment. If this is real, I won"t be able to deal with it, so I close my eyes. Too much time has passed. Too many happy memories I kept buried to avoid having my heart ripped from my chest…. again.

But his next words hit me in the gut like a bullet.

"It's really you. Fuck. Shorty, it"s me, Dino."

No. This can"t be real.

And there it is.

My chest rips open.

When I open my eyes, wishing I kept them closed, his expression is heartbreaking.

Numbness spreads throughout my body.

I can"t speak.

I can"t move.

I can"t blink.

I"m completely paralyzed.

How can I be paralyzed when I feel the ground shake underneath me? We don"t have earthquakes in Wisconsin. That's when I realize my knees are shaking.

I think I'm going to be sick.

I run my hands through my hair, taking a few steps back, holding back the nausea. I say, "No. It"s not possible. It's not true." Shaking my head back and forth, tears stream down my face.

He takes a step forward until he is close, too close. "Shorty, please look at me," he begs as he lifts my chin, forcing me to look into his beautiful eyes, my heart fluttering.

I can't do this.

The feelings are overwhelming, like I"m drowning without a lifeline nearby. Anger and resentment flood my thoughts. He was supposed to come back for me. He was supposed to be my best friend—my best person. He was supposed to be my hero.

"You left me. You left me and never came back. How could you do that to me? How could you leave me knowing what my life was like? Why? Why didn"t you come back for me?" Placing my hands on his chest, I push him away.

Great. Now I"m yelling and sobbing like a baby.

"Shorty, please," he pleads, surrendering to his tears.

"Don"t!" He tries to reach for me, but I pull away as a flash of pain flickers in his eyes.

"YOU ARE NOT REAL!" I yell, roughly running my fingers through my hair. "You can"t be real." A quiet whimper escapes me.

"You promised me," I cry.

"I know."

My shoulders fall in defeat. I place my face in my hands as I cry out the pain I"ve held in for so long. Finally, finally, the little boy who held the key to my heart is standing in front of me again. After all these years, hoping and praying he would come back for me, reality became a dream. A dream turned into a nightmare.

After days, weeks, and months turned into years, the hope I held onto faded away, knowing I had to let him go. The love I had for this little boy was so deep it consumed my soul. It belonged to him and no one else. He was the constant light in my shadows.

"Shorty, I am so, so sorry." He sounds torn, walking toward me with his arms out for me to run into. "I wanted to come back to you, but

mom told me you died. I thought he killed you." He chokes on a sob while falling to his knees.

"It fucking broke me, Shorty. The thought of living in a world where you didn't exist…I couldn"t do it." His cries sound like he"s in excruciating pain.

I know the feeling.

I want to reach out to him and comfort him. The pain he left in my heart never faded away.. Donovan"s strong arms are wrapped around my waist, and his face pressed against my stomach, chest heaving as he cries. His touch is warm, familiar, and safe.

God, he always made me feel safe when we were kids. Even though he wasn"t physically strong enough to fight off my demons, his warm touch made the bruises, cuts, and broken bones cease to exist. He was my angel, my little blue-eyed angel.

Donovan loosens his hold on my waist to stand, refusing to let me go, his last words sending a jolt up my spine. In a state of confusion, I ask, "Dead? What do you mean?"

A worried look appears on his face. He stares at me until his face turns pale as if he just came to a realization that will haunt him for life.

"Is he…does he still hurt you?" His asks in a strained voice.

Not waiting for a response, he puts his fist against his mouth as he gets back on his feet. "No." He lets out a quiet regretful sigh. "Please don"t tell me he is still hurting you. He seethes through clenched teeth with a murderous look. It's kind of freaking me out to see him this way.

If I tell him Dad is alive and still beats me, it will tear Doni apart more than it has me because he will blame himself just like when were kids. I can't do that to him. I won't.

"Dad died a few years ago," I lie. I turn away from the torn look on his face.

He pulls me into his arms, holding me tight as if he is afraid I will disappear. I let him without a fight.

I don"t want him to let me go.

I need this.

I need to feel him again.

I need him to comfort me—to keep me safe. My arms find their way around his waist. He's so tall, my head hits his chest.

Tell me, he stopped hurting you after I left." He rubs my back with his hands, his chin on top of my head. "Tell me, please."

He grabs my chin and turns my face to the side trying to get a better view of the lovely bruise my dear old dad left behind.

"What the..."

"Someone else is hurting you?" he demands.

I sigh. A secret I've kept for years.

I don't answer. I can't which pisses him off even more.

"Shorty." His jaw clenches.

I have to admit, seeing this side of him is sexy as hell.

"Shorty."

"My ex-boyfriend, but don't worry," I say in a hurry when I see his eyes morph into rage, "he's no longer a problem, I promise you." I hope he'll buy it and let it go.

"WHAT?"

Oh, shit. I try to pull away from his grasp, but he tightens it, making me wince.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." He lets go, rubbing his hands through his hair and keeping his hands on top of his head. Regret showing on his face.

"It's ok," I reassure him, rubbing away the pain on my arms.

"No, it's not ok. None of this is fucking ok." He lowers his head in shame.