Come Home Again (The Donovans) (27 page)

The last she’d heard from him was the message he’d left her right after the vote. She’d even called Lach looking for him.

“Lila.”

She whirled at the sound of her nickname. Without even thinking, she ran right up to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, thank God.” Adrenaline flooded her veins, and her breath came out in pants. “I was so worried. I’ve left you at least a dozen messages. I even called hospitals. Jesus, you scared me.”

“Lila, I’m so sorry. I should have called, but there was no time. I got here as soon as I could.”

Slowly, her brain came online and took over from her heart. He was fine. In one piece. Appeared to have all his fingers and toes. So where the hell had he been? She backed away and let him go. “Nate, where have you been?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. The Trent thing came back to haunt me. The little shit is working with Ross.”

As he recounted his story, she stared at him, numb and unable to move. “Nate, you realize I had to juggle
Rolling Stone
and the winners, and I had no idea where you were or if you were even going to show up.”

“I’m sorry. I know I should have called, but by the time I was able to, it was already so late. I will make this up to you. I swear to God.”

“You’ll make it up to me? Nate, this interview wasn’t for me. It was for
you
. I called in every favor I could to make this happen. For
you
. And you couldn’t even call?”

“Shit. Lila. Ross had me by the balls. He threatened to release to the media the real reason Chase is on medical leave. I had to choose.”

Delilah sighed. “Did you even think to call me? I fix things for a living, remember? If you’d just called, we could have come up with a plan together. Instead, you left me drifting in the wind.”

“I figured I’d handle it and get down here to you. Look, I know I handled this all wrong. I should have called. But I figured I’d be faster on my own.”

“That’s the problem, Nate, your default is to do everything on your own. You shut me out when you don’t have to. When it’s actually in your best interest not to. We had a deal, you and me. You trust me, and I trust you. And at the core of it, it feels like you don’t trust me. And after tonight, it feels like I can’t depend on you.”

He hung his head. “This is not how I wanted this night to go.”

Her heart squeezed. “Nate, I can’t do this. You will always choose to shut me out.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. You’ve been showing me signs from day one, and I didn’t want to listen. But I get it now.”

“Lila.”

She took a deliberate step back from him. “Please go.” Fire burned in her gut as the bile rose. “I can’t do this anymore.”

H
ow the hell had he fucked up so badly? Nate had ridden home in a numb haze. He thanked God for his brain’s autopilot function because without it, he could have easily had an accident.

With leaden feet, he trudged to his apartment. He was tempted to head for a bottle of scotch he kept mostly for visitors, but he knew he wasn't going to solve his problems at the bottom of a bottle like his mother had. It didn’t matter that he'd lost the one thing that had ever mattered to him. In another couple of weeks Chase would be back, and he wouldn’t be CEO anymore.

He should have been celebrating. He’d pulled off the craziest month of his life. He’d managed to convince the world that he was a CEO. The emperor had no clothes, and he’d managed to make the world believe he wore an Armani Suit. Before he’d stepped into this role, he’d been happy enough. His life was good. He
liked
his life. But now, he liked the idea of not living a half-life. He liked the man Delilah had molded him into. But he’d fucked it up by trying to handle everything himself. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t an island, and he’d blocked out the only person who’d ever loved him.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Delilah was gone for now, but it didn't mean he was giving up. First things first. He checked the false identity he’d created for Chase. It was still solid. No one had gone poking around him or the rehab facility. His friend’s anonymity was still secure.

But there was something about the whole Ross thing that bugged Nate. The guy was a grade A asshole. There was no way in hell he would hold onto the video. Especially if he thought it would drive a wedge between Nate and Delilah. He would have leaked it. Nate started digging. He’d gone back as far as he could electronically, looking for any information on the night he’d hit the streets. Unsolved stabbings and murders mostly. He hadn’t been able to find anything that resembled his crime. But the more he dug, the more he recognized that some districts in Syracuse still hadn’t brought paper records online. If he wanted answers, he’d need a cop.

###

"Y
ou want to take it easy on that ice-cream?"

Delilah halted her spoon in her rocky road to glare at Willow. "What? I'm a stress eater. Are we going to forget how you demolished a stack of Cadbury’s candy bars after your last break up? I'm only on my second carton."

Willow winced. "Okay, fair enough, but I don’t want you to undo all your workouts. You’ll be mad about it later." She chewed her lip. "Maybe if you explained again what he said exactly."

Delilah scooped another spoonful into her mouth and tried to enjoy the sweet flavor. But the hit of sugar fell flat. "He said he was sorry, but, God. I mean, he doesn’t communicate, and instead of telling me things so we can work out solutions together, he always goes it alone. Like he’s an island. And God, I was counting on him to be there. He knew it was important, and he left me twisting in the wind. Didn’t even call. I called hospitals, I was so damn worried. I keep thinking I can change him that he’s going to be this guy who’s open with me and communicates and who is dependable, but at the end of the day that’s not him. I’m the moron who fell in love with someone who isn’t right for me."

Willow patted her knee. "Honey, comforting isn't really in my wheelhouse, but I will kill him for the pleasure of watching him die."

Willow was a good friend. "No need." Delilah tried another bite of ice-cream and then gave up. It wasn’t helping, and Willow was right—she'd have to make up for the caloric overload in sparring class. "I was just so sure. I saw him. Or the version of him I wanted to believe. I'm so stupid."
But you saw it. He cares about you.
She shoved the thought aside.

"No. Stop that. I will not have you doubting yourself. This is all him and not you. You have to know that." Willow hesitated. “But maybe he had a good reason for not calling. I mean he rides a bike, not like he can call on the road.”

“But at any point during the night he could have made different choices. I mean I clearly can’t pick them. He's not the first guy to go running, right? The last asshole preferred men, the one before him had a wife, and the one before that had commitment issues. At some point I have to accept that I have Tiana Simmons syndrome. You know, like the actress. Where I date all these assholes and assume they’re the problem, when all along it’s me.
I'm
the problem. I'm the one picking wrong. I keep saying I want this great guy who's going to be loving and kind, but instead I keep picking these guys who need serious fixing, and I keep wondering why it doesn't work. I'm Tiana Simmons.
Fantastic
. If only I had a knack for screenplays like she does. Then I’d write all this great, scripted television drama. At least I'd be earning money."

Willow took her hand. "The Dee I know would be busy looking for solutions. Remember the groom with the runaway bride problem? You helped him see what was wrong with the relationship, and now he's happily married. And your corporate clients—no one would have pegged that fat balding guy from Lehman’s as a Casanova. You have to do that for yourself.” Willow’s brows furrowed. “All this while you’ve been avoiding the personal clients and the D-list celebrities and wanting more corporate clients. But you're good with personal. And your clients might be D-listers, but they do love you. Once they see they need fixing, you turn things around for them. Maybe you open up shop, giving the personal touch."

“Have you forgotten that I am the proud owner of twenty-five grand of debt? I’m going to have to sell this place to pay my school loan off. You looking for a roommate?”

Willow smoothed her hair. “I’m glad you brought that up. Because I’ve been giving a lot of thought to your problem, and I’d like to invest in you. Well, us technically.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve got some money tucked away from when my grandmother passed. I want to help you with your grad school payment.”

“Will, I can’t let you do that.”

“Hear me out. If we’re going into business for ourselves, we’ll need some start up cash and a great locale. This loft is your investment. Getting Park and Associates off your ass is mine.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Try ‘yes’ on for size.” Her friend shrugged, displacing the russet tresses on her shoulders. "Besides, it's better than sitting around here crying over that man. The best revenge is to be fabulous. And you have me. We can do this.
We
can do anything."

Maybe it
was
time to stop with the ice-cream and the wallowing. And get to fixing. She had a life to live. She'd survived without Nate Williams before. She could do it again. It didn’t matter how much she missed him. It didn't matter how much she wanted to be with him. Wanted him to be part of her new future. She had to move forward without him.

A
fter a sleepless night spent in front of his computer, Nate had a plan. And first part of that plan was handing Michael Ross his ass on a platter. His phone rang, and he made a leap for it.

At the crack of dawn, he’d put a call into Delilah’s brother, Dylan, and had been pacing his apartment waiting for a call back. He hated depending on people other than himself, but he didn't have much choice. To his credit, Dylan hadn’t wasted any time. Just gotten right on it.

When his cell phone rang, he answered with a brusque, “Yeah?”

“Eager much? I was the one who got woken up before the sun was up. Why are you so grumpy?” Dylan grumbled.

Nate dragged in a calming breath. He was the one who needed a favor. “Sorry. I just had a hell of a night. I appreciate you doing this favor for me. Were you able to find anything out?”

“Yes, actually. I put in some calls. There were no reported stabbing deaths on the date in question. There was, however, a stabbing reported to a local hospital. The victim was one, Cyrus Monroe.”

Nate’s stomach turned. He hadn’t known the guy’s name, but he remembered his mother calling the guy Cy. “What happened to him?”

“The vic claimed he was mugged but didn’t get a good look at the attacker. He survived to live another day, but only for a little while. He died in prison three years later while serving time for a child molestation charge.”

Nate felt dizzy and grabbed the back of his chair to steady himself. “He lived through the stabbing?”

“Yeah. I have a buddy in Syracuse PD. He looked up the file for me himself. What do you plan on doing with this?”

Kill Michael Ross
. Nate cleared his throat. “Buy Delilah a little breathing room.”

Dylan was silent for a moment then he said, “This have anything to do with that asshole who turned up at her house and has been harassing her?”

“The very same. He and I are going to have a conversation.”

“You want company?” There was a hard edge to Dylan’s voice that told Nate he was in big brother protection mode and prepared to do damage.

But Nate didn’t need any help. He would happily dismantle Ross on his own. “Thanks, but no. I got this.”

“Way to ruin my fun.”

After thanking Dylan for his help, Nate tossed on clean jeans and a T-shirt before heading for Park and Associates.

Thanks to Willow, he knew where to find Ross. The assistant he passed on the way to Delilah’s old office appeared flustered when he blew by her desk, but he wasn’t in the mood for the bullshit today. Instead, he barged right into Ross’s office.

The asshole had the good grace to look a little scared. Good.

But he recovered quickly. “What the fuck do you want? You’re lucky I didn't file assault charges against you.” He sputtered.

Nate let the corner of his lip turn up into a smirk. “What were you going to say in the report? ‘I was trying to blackmail him and he gave me what I had coming?’ Go ahead. I dare you.”

Ross scowled. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Oh, you know. Since we had such a great time last night, I thought we could talk about Cyrus Monroe.”

Ross’s right eyebrow twitched. “I don’t know who that is.”

Nate crossed his arms. “Really? That’s funny. Because you attempted to blackmail me by saying I’d killed him that night.”

The color leached out of Ross’s face. “You’re full of shit.”

“See, Ross, that’s what happens when you count on my brother for reliable shit. Cyrus Monroe didn’t die that night. He died three years later in prison.” Nate planted his hands on Ross’s desk. “Let me break this down for you so you understand how it’s going to go. You come at me again, and that pop I gave you yesterday will look like nothing compared to what they do to you in prison. You so much as even think about Delilah again, and I will make it my life’s mission to dismantle your little production company brick by brick. Nod if you understand me.”

Ross glared at him mutinously, but slowly his head bobbed up and down.

“Glad we could come to an understanding.”

Nate didn’t linger. He still had shit to do. Climbing onto his bike, he made his second trip to Hope that month. In the daylight, the streets were even more familiar. As he made the turn onto Clemons Drive, he could almost smell the lasagna cooking and Sarah yelling for him, Dylan, and Derek to put the skateboards away and wash up for dinner.

He still had to chuckle at the first family dinner with them. He’d thought they’d been a crazy, multicast of the Cleavers or the Brady’s. Everyone had been so polite. Except Delilah. The moment they sat down to dinner, she hadn’t let up with the questions. Like where did he grow up, where were his parents? But more like what was his favorite food? What music did he listen to? Did he like basketball? What was his favorite team?