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Chapter Ten
The nostalgia that washed over Donovan as he climbed out of the car at the town athletic complex and walked toward the baseball diamond was so powerful that it actually seemed to go beyond that simple label. He felt, in short, like he was back in high school again. Like he was home, and this was a normal weeknight activity.
Because Valentine Bay was small, the one athletic complex for the town served all its needs, for both school sports and community leagues. Because of that, Donovan had spent a huge percentage of his waking hours here when he was growing up. Between games and practices, this had been a second home.
And, of course, Ella had been there, too. She’d watch, cheer him on during games, and read a book while waiting for him to be done during practices.
Looking back, he didn’t think he’d ever told her how much that meant to him. He’d just been a selfish kid. He took for granted that, no matter what the activity or how much time it took up, she’d be his one woman cheering section. How could he have never said thank you?
Well, he knew the answer to that: teenage boys are self-involved dickheads. But he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and he planned to rectify that oversight at the first opportunity.
He took a deep breath. God, the air. There was something about it—that cold, crisp mountain air, filled with undertones of pine and saltwater. That air was home to him, and in all of his ambition and climbing the career ladder, he’d managed to forget how much he actually did love his home.
Donovan and Troy strolled across the parking lot and Mila ran joyfully ahead, presumably to connect with her group of giggling friends, which Donovan had watched her part with not two hours ago after they walked home from school. An amused smile touched his lips. He remembered being that age. When he’d walked home from that same school, on that same route, it had been him and Ella. Always him and Ella, everywhere and all the time.
“She’s growing up so fast,” Donovan said as he watched Mila run across the parking lot, and not only because it seemed like one of those things that you were supposed to say when you saw a kid you hadn’t seen in a long time. It was also true. Damn, he barely recognized her when she’d answered the door.
Troy groaned in response to his observation. “I know. Sometimes she seems more grown up from one day to the next. She’s going to be a teenager next year. I swear to God, man, there are nights that I lay awake for hours just wondering what I’ve gotten myself into… if I’m up for the task.”
“You are. Trust me, you are,” Donovan replied, and again, it wasn’t just because it was the type of thing you’d be expected to say in response. It was because it was true.
“Thanks,” Troy said, and then smirked mischievously. “Of course, things would be a little easier if we saw the family more often. Nobody in particular. Just random family members. Not necessarily anyone that’s part of this conversation. Just, you know. Anyone that might feel the need to drop by. For reasons other than suddenly finding out they’re married.”
Donovan clapped a hand on Troy’s shoulder. “If I run into anyone who matches that description, I’ll be sure to let them know. Since we’re not talking about anyone in particular.”
Troy shrugged off his hand and slugged him in the shoulder. “Jackass.”
Troy matched the slug with one of his own, firing back, “Asshat.”
Just like that, they were back in junior high again, scuffling and wrestling in the hall, trying to one up each other in every way possible. It felt good, just like so many things he’d experienced in the past day or so that he’d been in Valentine Bay, it felt like home.
A sharp clapping sound rang through the air, and Donovan and Troy immediately froze in their tracks. It wasn’t a well thought out response, it was pure instinct. He’d been trained early in life by the sound of that clap, and now the freeze-in-place-and-stand-up-straight response was as well programmed into him as drooling was into Pavlov’s dogs.
“Boys, now you stop that roughhousing. That’s no way for a Valentine to behave in public, let alone two of you. You’re members of the town’s founding family. It’s a responsibility. Never forget it.”
The voice that delivered that demand may have been shaky and tremulous, but it carried all of the authority of a drill sergeant and it commanded every bit as much respect.
Donovan turned around to face the elderly woman who’d scolded him. And just like that, he felt like he was back in junior high again.
“Sorry, Grandmother Valentine. It won’t happen again,” he mumbled, and Troy echoed the sentiment.
Sure, they were both grown men. Sure, Troy had been a pro ballplayer and Donovan was a freaking Secret Service agent. That didn’t matter one bit to Grandmother Valentine, who was the matriarch not only of their family but the entire town, and when they were in her presence, it didn’t seem to matter much to them either.
No one was entirely sure how old she was, but she’d seemed elderly even when the Valentine brothers were kids. Donovan guessed that she was in her nineties if she was a day. Still, she ruled over the family and the town with a loving but iron fist.
She shuffled across the parking lot, her elbow held by a tall and movie-star-handsome young man in scrubs.
When the pair had stepped close enough, Donovan extended his hand. “Hi there. Donovan Valentine.”
His grandmother brushed aside the greeting. “This is Armando, my caregiver. He doesn’t speak English.”
Donovan’s brows knit as he tried to make sense of that. “Well, then how can he—”
“He has other skills,” his grandmother cut him off, in a tone that invited no argument.
“Oh, God,” he whispered hoarsely as the implication sunk in, his stomach turning a little.
Grandmother Valentine ignored his reaction, choosing instead to barrel ahead with what she’d come over intending to say. “It’s utterly shameful, Donovan, that you’ve been in town a full twenty-four hours already and have not informed me, let alone paid a visit. It’s disrespectful.”
