Make Me Stay_A Second Chance Romance Read online

  Now, he just sat there, probably sulking as usual.

  Today, Avery found out that her father was very much the manipulative asshole that he aspired to be. Avery didn’t know everything that her father did, but he triumphed over Robert De Niro’s tactics in Meet the Parents. Hell, he was neck to neck with Olivia Pope’s father. Just a selfish prick and the world was his own game of chess.

  Something told her that Donavan’s usual jealousy wasn’t enough to tear them apart. He was keeping a secret. It was the secret that caused her to fall into such a deep depression that she barely aspired to breathe, let alone thrive while pregnant. Her father had done more than try to pay Donavan and his family off.

  She’d gone to the restroom and was tossing the paper towel that she had used to turn the doorknob into the trash at the entrance of the bar when she found herself unable to take her eyes off Donavan.

  Then she felt it.

  It was the feeling of complete and utter happiness in a moment, despite Donavan’s continually pushing her away.

  The happy tempo of the music pulsated against her chest. The song was familiar. A trio of chicks, two white and one black, were standing on the two-by-two stage that someone in management—or probably the only person in management—had bought, along with a karaoke machine to get more people into this drab bar.

  She and Salvador always went to much nicer establishments, so when Carly had responded to her text about where Donavan was tonight, Avery had had to use her GPS to find this place.

  As the women laughed, lushing out the words, “I know this much is true, Ha-ha-ha, ha-ah-hi, I know this much is trueeee.”

  A laugh bubbled from Avery’s lips, removing the jaded edge that she clung to recently. She could feel Donavan watching. She turned and saw him staring at her. This was their song. Well, not their favorite song, but a song that had them laughing as kids, and him saying, even he wasn’t white enough to like it.

  Spandau Ballet’s “True” was belted out by the women along with giggles. God, what she’d give to hear the words. Donavan had said the singer’s voice was godawful and the words were too sappy for his tastes.

  He stood up, just as she walked back over.

  “I can’t do this without you.” She spoke up, unaware how loud the room was as the women continued to crone. As the words slipped from her lips, she felt that they meant so much more than she was saying.

  “Alright.” He seemed to grumble as a response before he lip-synched the words “Listening to Marvin all night long . . . This is the sound of my soul.”

  She smacked his arm. Instantly, she shook her wrist to ease the burning fire caused by the steeliness of Donavan’s bicep.

  “That’s what you get.” Donavan smiled at her.

  “Yeah, and next I’m gonna knee you. Now, stop lip-synching and sing the damn words so that I can catch the beat.”

  Her head bobbed to the beat, and after a few moments, she didn’t need Donavan to get into the sound as she sang from memory. “This much is true-oh-oh-oh . . .”

  ~~~

  They’d left the bar on his Kawasaki. The wind bristled through her coiled tresses as she clung to Donavan’s thick, stone-carved back. She closed her eyes in the moment and breathed in the sea-salted air, freedom, and desire. Her lady bits were heavy, aching with a need to be stroked and filled up, but could she do this to Salvador?

  No, she couldn’t do it to him. No more than she could’ve cheated on Donavan when they were together. At least, those were her thoughts before all inhibitions flew over her shoulders and past the marshland.

  “Faster,” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

  When the motorcycle seemed to be moving jet fast, she squeezed Donavan’s hard body as a “thank you.” In response, his left hand let go of the bar, and he caressed the silk of her hand for a fleeting, perfect moment.

  ~~~

  The ride was over just as quickly as it had begun. They were in an old housing track in the same neighborhood as Mr. Kelly’s Construction. The homes had seen better days, and much of the yards were patches of grass, if any. Donavan pulled into a lot where there was no grass at all. Her legs felt wobbly, and Avery took a few steps on her high heels.

  Donavan had climbed off his motorcycle and was holding her hands in less than a second to help keep her steady. She narrowed her eyes to read his lips since the porch light was out.

  “I went too fast,” he said.

  “No, I haven’t gone that fast . . . since you.” She felt self-conscious. Just as she had read his lips, his gaze was glued to her mouth as well. Then he swooped down, his hand fisting her hair, massaging perfectly, as his lips descended on hers. The kiss sent sparks like firecrackers over her skin. A burning desire slammed through her. His other hand clutched her ass, holding her steady, keeping her weak knees from caving. Their tongues twined like the basic need for oxygen was no longer a requirement of life. Her brain turned to mush, and Donavan’s hand pressing against the small of her back was enough to keep her from falling. He kissed her senselessly.

  A light flashed into their eyes as an old truck pulled into the driveway next to them. With the houses so close together, the ultralights burned Avery’s eyes, and she hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes while kissing him until she pulled away.

  “The guy?” he signed, a frown on his face. “You’re worried?”

  She nodded.

  Donavan shoved a hand through his wavy hair. He lifted his powerful leg and moved back into a seated position on the Kawasaki. “I’ll take you back to your car.”

  She snatched the keys from the ignition. “He’s not home tonight. I can’t hurt him, Donnie, but I’m sticking with you. I’ve got a few questions that you will answer tonight.”

  He did a double take and gave her an incredulous look that sent another spark burning through her soul. “AC, you stay with me tonight; I’m fucking.”

  Avery turned on the heels of her stilettos. She sauntered to the front door, not attempting to be sexy, but dammit if she was going home tonight. “We were friends first, Donnie. Boy, we slept in the same bed—without my parents’ knowledge—since you weren’t afraid to ride over in the dark. Were you ten, twelve?”

  “Eleven,” he gritted. “You were ten.” He tried to add that sex wasn’t on his mind at that age, but she started trying out the keys at the door

  “So, I’m stuck with you, tonight. And you’re gonna be a man about it, not some horny bastard.” Avery smiled as she found the right fit and turned the doorknob.

  “But I was born a bastard, sweetheart,” he grumbled to himself. “And I’m horny as hell.”

  ~~~

  He’d given her a pair of sweats, and the thermal clung to her. While Avery sat at a wood table with two chairs in a modest kitchen, she pinched the material between her thumb and index finger, brought it to her nose, and breathed in the scent of him. As Donavan turned around with two bowls of cookie crisp, he arched an eyebrow. Damn. She was so easy to read.

  “The clothes are clean, AC. I’m not that much of a barbarian.”

  Her cheeks warmed. With no desire to respond in truth, she grabbed a spoon and began to eat.

  “AC,” Donavan began. He placed a hand on her hand to bring her attention to his eyes, and signed, “Baby, did you eat dinner tonight?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Is everything good with you and the narc?”

  This time she nodded. “Yeah. Donnie, why can’t we go back to seven years ago. There are so many things that you—we’ve—missed.” Wow, that wasn’t something she intended to say. But the Cookie Crisp was nostalgic, making her speak her desires.

  His chest puffed up slowly and then deflated. Avery read that he was about to say something, and yet she needed to get a few secrets off her chest. As he took a bite of cereal to keep from speaking about his emotions, Avery committed a cardinal sin. She meant to get her answers first, but her heart spoke out.

  “Donavan, we had a boy.”

  �
�We . . . what?” The honey brown in Donavan’s hazel eyes burned with interest and confusion as if he wasn’t quite sure what he’d heard her say.

  “You remember the time in my parents’ Jacuzzi? We were so young . . .” She bit her lip. “We didn’t use a condom that day.”

  With her heart pounding in her ears, Avery’s gaze tracked Donavan’s mouth, waiting for a response. She hadn’t expected that tonight, of all nights, she’d bring up something so intimate as having a son for him. Telling him these things should’ve come after they’d cleared the air about their failed relationship. But speaking of their boy made her feel especially connected to Donavan. Her heart skipped a few beats as she waited for him to say just a single word.

  He didn’t.

  Donavan slipped out of the chair onto the floor. His body was like a stack of bricks, thick and strong as he opened her legs and placed himself there. When his hands touched her abdomen, Avery’s face became drenched with tears.

  At Sunnymead Resort, she’d imagined it a thousand times. Donavan’s apology about not being there and his pride because she’d carried a baby for him.

  She’d even imagined that their child had survived.

  He clung to her. She felt wetness against her belly and prayed to God for one moment of being able to hear this man before her. He was crying to her, crying to her heart. Donavan rose instantly, pulling her into his arms. Unable to look into his eyes, Avery buried her face against his thick neck. She breathed him in. The scent was so welcoming. It wouldn’t make her get over the death of her child like everyone else hoped she would, but it was enough to pacify her in ways she’d never been since he had held her in his arms.

  CHAPTER 16

  Donavan

  His heart had imploded in his chest. Inside his brain, Donavan screamed. He almost felt like cursing his very own existence for his misfortune. Until he had met the Hardys and Avery Castle, he had not had one possession to his name.

  Nothing that meant anything.

  Now, he knew that her father had won. But after Alexander’s threats to the parents who had fought him to keep him, the lies didn’t taste so bad now. He’d been a lousy-ass foster kid until the Hardys broke it to him that they wouldn’t give up.

  And Avery . . . She’d been his to claim. Untainted, beautiful, and the way her eyes lit up when she saw Donavan. He wasn’t a piece of shit because nobody could look at a person the way she did and that person not amount to anything.

  Avery cried into his chest as they lay on his bed. There’d be no stealing back the only thing that mattered to him because Avery was loyal to a fault. Her loyalty was the reason why she’d stuck around with a piece of nothing like Donavan Hardy from day one. Avery didn’t deny it when Donavan had mentioned something about the sap proposing to her soon. He wondered how soon, not that it mattered. She wasn’t the type to cheat—that he’d known all along.

  Donavan almost laughed at how he’d treated Avery. He’d pushed her down, and in return, she had given him her heart. The only way to recapture what rightfully belonged to him was if Salvador fucked up. How that would happen, Donavan had no idea. To compound matters, Donavan had court tomorrow to further solidify what an A-Class fuckup he was. He held Avery tighter, knowing this was as close as he’d ever get to the love of his life, for the rest of his entire life.

  “Our baby was three pounds at nine months, Donnie,” she said out of nowhere.

  It brought him out of the jealous desire to claim what he had owned. His palm rubbed along her cheek, pulling at her gaze for attention. “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is. When I first found out I was pregnant, I was so afraid about where you were, what exactly happened to you. I didn’t think I could keep him. My mom had helped me search for a good adoption agency without telling anyone.”

  He sighed, determined to keep quiet and listen to her bare her soul to him.

  “I could hardly force myself to eat. Nothing had a taste. Then Antonio and the rest of our family thought I’d accepted the request of my piano mentor and had gone to study with him. Fredique LaChelle, do you remember him?” She cracked a smile, although her heart screamed, full of sorrow.

  It hurt him too, but Donavan’s mouth perched to the left as he nodded. “LaChelle, I used to talk shit about him when you were with him half the summers during middle school. I remember telling him the only Beethoven I knew was a dog in a movie.”

  She actually chuckled; he held her tighter. “My little bird,” he whispered into her hair. Avery didn’t really like the nickname when they were young because it seemed more like a weakness. It was a set of words he hadn’t strung together since the last time he held her close.

  “I was friggen seven months then. People thought I was with LaChelle, but I was seven months pregnant, finally showing. I was at a cottage in Myrtle Beach with a fleet of servants because, I swear, my father was so happy, so happy that I wasn’t some teen pregnancy statistic just because I was off somewhere where none of his friends would know. He was content with the adoptive parents that Mom helped me choose. My poor mom, it broke her heart knowing we were giving away my baby. But she’d always say something positive. She’d say that the family was just like the Hardys. That’s what she’d say.”

  Donavan kept his emotions in check. He’d had bad memories before the Hardys and didn’t want to hurt Avery for saying as much. Although, he’d slowly told her about some of his ex-foster parents over the years. He moved to his side, caressed her cheek, and signed, “What was his name? When was he born?”

  “Donavan Junior, of course. The adoptive parents agreed to allow that to be his name, but since they didn’t complete the process . . . obviously, we still named him Donavan.”

  “Is he on Baudelaire land with Franny and your mother’s ancestors?” he asked, unable to wait for her to finish answering the second part of her previous question.

  “No. I think I scared and threatened my father so much that Alex had him placed in the mausoleum with the Castles.”

  He arched an eyebrow, wondering how she’d threatened her father, but instead said, “And his birthday?”

  “November 25, 2011.”

  His eyes closed, and Donavan took a deep breath. “That was the same day I got kicked out of the army. Fighting a guy in my own squad. I wanted to kill him. We’d bumped heads so much over the past four months, but that day, I was even more of an asshole than usual. I just, I broke his arm and almost broke his damned neck.”

  “Oh, Donnie.” She shook her head and kissed him on the jaw. “You were always so angry.”

  “I came back for you.” He let the words slip. Avery had just looked away, so he didn’t think that she had seen his mouth movements, a part of him hoped she hadn’t.

  Her eyes widened. She asked him to repeat himself.

  “I went away after . . .” He stopped himself from mentioning her father. They both knew the type of man that Alexander was so there was no need to break her heart further telling about how Alexander had blackmailed and threatened the lives of his parents. “I went away, and I thought I’d go to the army, use that as leverage to get an education.” He bit his lip, then signed. “I had plans to return, with a degree, and steal you from any man who so much as looked at you, but you were gone.”

  Avery placed her head back on his shoulder. She said, “I might’ve been in New York by then.”

  Needing to touch her and knowing that she didn’t belong to him almost broke the strong man in half. He settled on taking her hand, his thumb rubbing the center of her palm. “You were always meant to do great things. And damn, girl, you did. You played in Madison Square Garden when you were 12—”

  “With LaChelle.” She shrugged.

  “Then you upped that accomplishment by dropping a CD, all original compositions, that went gold by the time you were eighteen.”

  “Mmm.” Avery elaborated that the pieces were all for him and their son.

  They talked for most of the night, and when she fell asleep, he hel
d her even tighter. As close as he could get her without hurting her.

  ~~~

  The next morning, Donavan was showered and dressed in one of the three church suits he owned. Though he hardly visited Greg, Carly, and little Josh, he’d rotated these outfits because his dad always seemed to squeeze in a church service when he came.

  Avery lay on her side. He felt like dragging his hand over her curves, but her eyes opened.

  He signed, unsure of how awake she was. “How’d you sleep?”

  She smiled instantly; it was enough to eclipse the sun. “I slept well, thank you.” Her eyebrows kneaded together. “Damn, just because you didn’t get any ass, doesn’t mean breakfast had to be taken off the table. Where are you going?”

  He offered a half smile at her joke. “I have court.”

  Even with her shoulders still sagging and her eyes barely open, Avery started to arise. He pressed her shoulder gently. “No, get some rest if you need to. I already caught a Lyft to that crappy ass bar and got your car. The keys are next to the cereal box.”

  He’d underestimated her because she was wide awake now. Her signing vigorous and blunt: “But what about you?”

  “I’m going to court just like I said.” He placed a hand on his hip, finding it unnecessary to sign now that Avery was asserting herself.

  “And the damn charges, Donnie!” She stood up. “I consulted with Mr. Saddlewire, on my father’s team. He said you could go to jail for assault, maybe even attempted murder.”

  Unable to contain himself, Donavan laughed. What did it matter if he went to jail? He knew the routine. If he had any luck, he’d be gone longer than it took for Avery to be married and replace the child he never knew. He held no anger toward her, not anymore. All of it was targeted at himself for being stupid enough to leave his good girl alone in the first place.

  The smack against his cheek felt like Avery had lit a match against his chin. He wriggled his jaw. “AC, I wasn’t trying to be a dick—”