The Family Simon: Jack Part 17

Liar.

"I'm not anything where you're concerned. I'm the guy who's gonna stop this right now. I'm the guy who's done."

He pointed to the bag on the counter as he strode past her and headed for the stairs. He needed a shower, and he needed to sleep.

"Do us both a favor and take the test."

Chapter Twenty.

Donovan was up before sunrise, but Jack was already gone. Dejected, she stared at the rumpled sheets on his bed-rumbled sheets that looked a h.e.l.l of a lot like her own-and then closed his bedroom door.

She's hardly slept a wink but somehow had managed to miss him leaving the house. He'd probably gone for a run.

Coco had been curled up at the edge of Jack's bed but jumped down just in time to run ahead of Donovan, his little tail wagging crazily as he yipped all the way down.

She wandered downstairs, flipping the switch beside the sink and winced as the light flashed on. The beginnings of a headache pushed in on her skull and she sighed, searching for some pain meds in the cupboard. She took a few tablets with a gla.s.s of water and barely managed to swallow them. c.r.a.p. Seems as if her throat was sore. She so didn't have time to come down with something, but she wasn't surprised.

When was the last time she'd had a decent night's sleep?

A coffee cup was in the sink, and she rinsed it out, wiping it dry and setting it back inside the cupboard, her actions automatic because her brain was so d.a.m.n fuzzy. She couldn't get Jack out of her heard.

Couldn't get the look in his eyes out of her dreams. He really had no feelings left for her. He'd said it last night. He was done.

And Donovan had no idea what to do about it. Did she just let the chips fall where they may? Did she fight for what she wanted? Did she fight for Jack Simon now or was it too late?

She should have fought for him five years ago-fought for their love. Had she really been that weak?

"Derek would have destroyed him," she whispered fiercely.

But would he have? Had he played Donovan? Would he have exposed the video and those pictures knowing it would end his connection to Jack as well?

"Jesus," she said, as a wave of nausea rolled over her. It made her sick every time she thought about it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to blot out the images but couldn't.

Derek had showed it to her that next morning but all Donovan could take were the first few moments. She was naked. Spread out on the bed that she and Jack shared and Derek was climbing on top of her. She couldn't remember anything else from that night other than her fight with Jack and him storming out before dinner was over.

"Doesn't matter," she said dully. It was too late since Cooper Simon had somehow managed to get his grabby hands on it.

Deciding she'd rather not think about that night, Donovan glanced down at Coco. "Looks like it's just you and me," she said to the dog, tugging on the edge of her sleep pants and hiking them up.

Cold, she wrapped her arms around herself and wandered outside, walking the length of the porch that overlooked the lake. Other than the gentle current lapping against the dock, she heard nothing and saw nothing. The Campbell's cottage was in darkness as were most of the houses that dotted the lake, and in the distance she spied the first rays of pink and yellow creeping over the horizon.

Coco barked and she glanced down. "I guess you're hungry."

After rummaging for some dog food, she set down a bowl for Coco and grabbed the pharmacy bag that was still on the kitchen counter from the night before. Her fingers shook a little as she pulled out the small blue and white box. She set it on the counter, worrying her bottom lip as she stared at it.

Should she do the test now? Did she want to know?

Her stomach rolled just thinking about it. She turned the box over in her hands and before she could change her mind, headed up to her room. Donovan grabbed her sweats, running shoes and a ball cap before heading to the bathroom.

She set the box on the sink carefully and got dressed. Once her shoes were pulled on and tied, she brushed her teeth and then braided her hair, listening for Jack's return. But there was nothing. No Jack and no reason not to do the stupid test.

Why was she still here? He didn't love her, and she was a fool to think he'd even want to try again. Not after everything.

He doesn't love me. He will never love me.

She glanced up into the mirror, saw the smudges beneath her eyes, and in spite of her tan, saw the paleness beneath it all. She saw the fear and pain. She saw the guilt.

She was never going to have that happily ever after. Not with Jack and probably not with anyone else. Her story, it seemed, had already been written. She was just too d.a.m.n stupid, too full of denial to see it. She may as well pull up her big girl pants and deal with the situation once and for all.

"Just do it," she whispered fiercely. She ripped the box apart and took out the small white device, removing the cellophane wrapper with shaking fingers.

Oh. G.o.d. She felt sick.

After reading the instructions, she got down to business, and once she was done, set the stick back onto the counter. The instructions said to wait a full five minutes for the result, and after was.h.i.+ng her hands, she left the bathroom. No way was she gonna sit in there and wait.

The sky was lighter now. Dawn was breaking.

Restless, Donovan ran downstairs, and after a few moments of indecision, grabbed a granola bar from the cubby along with a bottle of water. She ran out the door, making sure Coco didn't follow her and headed up the road.

A walk would do her good. She needed to clear her head and get her s.h.i.+t together. She needed to be strong, because there was no way in h.e.l.l she could let Jack know that she was still hopelessly in love with him.

Nope. That couldn't happen.

Not even if there was a baby.

The road that led from the Simon home was steep and narrow, lined with trees that stood as silent as soldiers. It was eerie, being out here alone at this time in the morning, but there was also a kind of peace as well.

When she reached the top, Donovan paused, slightly out of breath, and glanced to the right and then to the left. If she went left, she'd end up near the main road. The main road meant people, and she sure as h.e.l.l didn't want to deal with people. Tugging the brim of her ball cap lower, she took a swig of water and headed to the right.

She followed the road for about an hour before she came to a fork. By this time, the sun was much higher in the sky, and she slipped off her hoodie, tying it around her waist as she continued on her way, opting to head into the trees than toward the water.

She walked for a couple hours and then stopped to rest, eating her granola bar and nearly finis.h.i.+ng her water. She would have stayed put a bit longer, but the bugs were horrible and she went on her way.

She hiked through the bush for hours it seemed and when the st.i.tch in her side became sharp, she paused, glancing around. Okay. She was going to take a guess and say that she was lost. When was the last time she'd seen a house? Or the water? The path she'd been on no longer looked well used. In fact it looked nothing like the footpath she'd started out on.

Unease made her gut churn and Donovan reached for her water again, careful to take only enough to quench her thirst. It was hot, even here beneath the canopy of evergreens, and she realized that as well as being lost, she had no idea what time it was either.

"s.h.i.+t," she murmured, turning in a full circle. Did she follow the path back? But hadn't she branched off from the original road at some point?

A snap in the forest had her heart pounding, and she froze. She was pretty sure bears inhabited these woods and that thought brought with it a few hot, stinging tears.

Great.

She was lost and now she was going to be some bear's dinner. Just like Donovan to get herself into a pickle. If her mama was here, she'd be wagging her forefinger and shaking her head in that way that made Donovan feel as if she hadn't pa.s.sed the third grade.

"I bet a third grader wouldn't have gotten lost," she muttered, patting the pocket of her jacket. But there was no cell phone there. You know, because that would have been the smart thing to do.

d.a.m.n. Wiping sweat from her brow, she exhaled, eyes narrowed, as she peered past the silent trees.

"Screw it," she mumbled, swallowing her fear. There wasn't anything to do but keep going. The path had to lead somewhere right? Because if it didn't? Well, then she would be totally screwed.

Donovan had always been the sort to believe in the impossible. A few years back when 'The Secret' had been on everyone's reading list (way before that Fifty Shades book), she'd picked up a copy and read it in one sitting. Her mother had thought it was nothing but a bunch of baloney, but Donovan had eaten up every word and she was a believer. The secret to success was visualization. Believe it and it would happen.

She visualized her success. Her songs and career. She visualized what she wanted and wasn't surprised when it happened. Of course she'd never applied that philosophy to her personal situation, but right now she was of the opinion that a little bit of that mojo just might be in order.

So she kept on and tried not to think about bears or being lost. Tried not to think about how hungry she was or how little water she had left. She didn't dwell on the fact that a good part of her bare arm was blotchy from mosquito and horse fly bites. And she sure as h.e.l.l didn't think about that pregnancy stick back at the house. Nope. She would worry about that later.

She kept walking. Tried to hum a few songs but wasn't in the mood. And when she finally spied water through the trees, she gave a yell and began to run. Ignoring the pain in her right ankle, the result of twisting it earlier, she half slid, half ran down a steep incline and landed at the bottom on her a.s.s.

Donovan spied a small cottage about fifty yards ahead and to the right of it, a boathouse and dock. The relief was huge, and she rolled over, dusted herself off and limped up to the house. She banged on the door, smoothing her hair a bit because she was pretty sure she looked like a crazy lady. Her braid had come undone, and she'd lost her ball cap when she'd tumbled down the incline.

The instant euphoria she'd felt when she spied the home faded as she continued to knock, but there was no answer. Close to tears, Donovan peeked inside, but saw nothing. No movement. No sign that anyone had been there recently.

"s.h.i.+t," she whispered, walking the length of the porch and gazing out over the water. This part of the lake looked wild, probably as untamed as her hair. There was no beach, only a rocky sh.o.r.eline that led straight into the water.

Her ankle was killing her and slowly she made her way over to the boathouse but again, there was no one there. Sure she found several orange gas cans, and that would have been great, except there was no boat. A few fis.h.i.+ng rods hung from the walls along with an overly large nude calendar that appeared to be decades old.

Standing there in the middle of that boathouse, Donovan felt like the last person on the planet. The silence was scary, and for the first time, real fear punched her in the gut. This wasn't just about bears anymore. This was about being lost with no phone or food or fresh water.

"Jesus, Jack. Where are you?"

She wandered out onto the dock and gazed across the lake. There was a large residence perched atop a cliff on the other side, but it was so far away, there was no way for her to contact anyone.

Dejected she dropped to her knees and pulled them up close as she stared out at the water. Visualize, dammit. Visualize Jack.

She closed her eyes and saw his face, the ache inside her something fierce. "G.o.d, Jack, what have I done," she whispered, rubbing her cheek along her forearm and wiping away the few tears that fell.

Donovan unwrapped her legs and tossed her hoodie onto the dock, scrunching it into a sad looking pillow. She was so tired. So warm. She laid down, stretching out along the dock and burrowing her head into the bunched up hoodie. She heard the drone of a plane overhead and listened to it until it was no more. With heavy eyelids, she eventually fell asleep.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been out but when she opened her eyes, the sky was dark and ominous clouds had rolled in. Thunder cracked and lightening followed, both so loud and close that she sat up, momentarily dizzy because she'd moved too fast.

She heard music and the sound of a motor.

Help had come!

Big drops of rain splashed onto her face and Donovan stumbled to her feet, swiping at the rain to clear her eyes. She waved frantically, yelling for help, hobbling around on a foot that was now swollen to twice its size.

She yelled until she was hoa.r.s.e, eyes on the distance and a boat making its way across the choppy lake.

"Please come," she whispered, s.h.i.+vering and wet and miserable. "Please."

She bit her lip and tried to shout one more time, but it was no use. Her vocal chords were done for.

And just when she thought help had pa.s.sed her by, the boat turned and headed for her. She was so beside herself that when it pulled up alongside the dock, at first she couldn't answer any of their questions.

Are you okay?

Who are you?

Do you need help?

"Maybe we need to take her to the hospital," one of them said.

It was enough to snap her out of her funk. No hospital. She just needed to be with Jack.

"No," she shook her head. "Can you take me to Jack?" Donovan managed to say. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she wasn't sure the woman understood.

"Jack? Is that your husband?"

"Jack Simon. Do you know him?"

The woman shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. Do you know where he's at?"

"No," Donovan whispered, fighting back tears. "I went for walk and got lost."

"It's a big lake but you couldn't have wandered that far," she said.

Think, Donnie, think.

"Brett Campbell. He's Jack's neighbor. Do you know him?"

Again the woman shook her head, but this time she yelled out to her companions. "Anyone know a Brett Campbell? What about a Jack Simon?"

"Simon? The American guy? His brother's an actor or something?" That was from the guy behind the wheel.

Donovan nodded. "Yes. Jack."

"I know where that place is. Down on millionaire alley." He hit full throttle and less than twenty minutes later ,they pulled up alongside Jack's dock. By now the rain was falling steady and after thanking her rescuers, Donovan made her way toward the house. The going was slow because her ankle was killing her and by the time she reached the porch, she was drenched.

Her hand was on the doork.n.o.b when it was wrenched from her grasp, her fingers flailing in the air and coming into contact with a hard male chest. She glanced up, throat closed so tight that she couldn't swallow.

"Where the h.e.l.l have you been? Jesus Christ, Donnie," Jack said, his voice low and deadly. "I've been going f.u.c.king crazy. Do you know that? Do you get that Donovan?"

He shook her and her head snapped back but her body was shaking so badly that she couldn't answer. And dammit, she was going to cry.

His dark eyes widened as he angled his head for a better look. "What the..." he muttered, his touch gentle as he palmed her cheek. "What happened?"

She winced and managed a few words. "I fell."

Jack swore and slammed the door shut behind them. Her legs were like limp spaghetti, and if not for his arms around her, she would have fallen. As it was, she whimpered when she took a step, and he cursed again, hands on her face and pulling her up so that there was nowhere to look other than into his eyes.