Walk with Me (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream) (31 page)

Even for me, Miss Independent, I can’t believe I’m using these words, too. “That’s how I feel.” I shrug.

Donovan shifts around to my kneeling form, still sitting cross-legged. I take his hands in mine and search his eyes for understanding. I decide to further explain.

My voice cracks when I begin. “I more than just love you. I have given all of myself over to you, my heart, my body, and my soul. You possess it all—all of me—with the one condition to safeguard it from harm. I trust you to have and to hold my heart, cherish my body, and encourage my soul, to embrace all that I embody, because I’m yours, only yours.

His eyes blaze with new rapture, similar to the original adoration and hunger I saw in his eyes on the beach during our first kiss, but stronger, deeper, more profound. The look in his eyes is almost too much to bear. I need to seal my lips over his and consummate my words.

Even when I open my eyes, standing in his parents’ backyard, I can still see his glorious face when he leans toward me, and I can still feel the silky touch of his lips to mine. So caught up in the memories of our past, I don’t even notice that Mark steps to my right, looking ahead at the photo, too, until he speaks.

“He sure looks good in that uniform. Becoming a cop was probably the best career choice for Donovan,” Mark says without turning away from the photo, and with reverence in his voice.

I nod, sniffling into my tissue.

“You want to talk about it?” he offers. Mark has been a good sympathetic listener during my emotional breaks.

I shake my head. “No. I’ll be okay in a few minutes. It’s just…it’s still hard for me sometimes.” I exhale with a shudder.

“Well, if you change your mind and you want to talk, I’ll be around,” he says and reaches over and squeezes my forearm. “It was a pretty traumatic event and the family is here for you.”

I can feel Donovan’s presence. I’ve had this sense he’s been watching over me all day today.

Mark turns his face toward my direction and smiles admiringly. “Oh, hey, bro. Congratulations!”

At the same time, Donovan hooks his arm around me and reaches over to shake Mark’s hand. “Thanks, man, I’m glad to be here celebrating the end of my first year on the job,” he says, standing proudly between me and Mark, squeezing me to his side.

“It’s well deserved. Enjoy the party. Connie and Sarah have outdone themselves as usual. And I hear congratulations are in order on your promotion.”

Donovan bows his head in modesty. “I don’t know if you’d call it a promotion, but it is an honor to be assigned to a special task force with only one year on the job.”

“Yeah, well, congratulations anyway. You’ve really seemed to found your calling. I’ll see you two around,” he says, patting Donovan on the shoulder and walking away.

I turn into Donovan’s chest and he encircles me loosely around the waist. I tilt my face up to his with tears still streaming down my cheeks. “Why are you crying? This is a day for celebration, not crying.” He leans down and kisses my swollen lips and brushes away the tears with the back of his hand. “Come on now. Look at me. I’m alive and well. Just a few stitches and I was back out on the streets in no time chasing bad guys.”

“
Twenty
stitches to be exact. Not a few. And you had a severe head trauma. Remember?” My voice turns a little snarky. “Oh, no you probably don’t because they kept you in a drug-induced coma for a couple days until the brain swelling went down.”

I shake my head at my quick change in emotion, and exhale, relaxing at the acknowledgment that my love is standing right here in front of me, grinning at my tirade. I reach up and trail my fingers over his scar—the visual reminder that Donovan was almost taken from me.

“Your hair has almost all grown back in, though,” I say with my tone more even.

“I still fared better than our buddy, dead at the age of twenty-eight. It reminds me of the loss of life and pain the drug world brings. Think of the good I can do on this task force, and now I know where to start looking for leads to find the dealer responsible for Dillon. The shooting gallery he frequented, the people he hung with.”

I blanch at his words, standing mute on this runaway train. I try not to look ahead at any kinks in the track, the bend that may derail his ambition, taking him down and finishing the job the gunman started, because I’m riding along with him.

“We now know that the gunman was just a simple mule, that there’s a midlevel dealer who runs this area, but he’s been able to evade us. We need to build our case, collect evidence to take him down for good.”

“I know. I just worry now about you when you’re at work. You risk your life every day for the public that doesn’t even care and actually treats you like crap. And now working undercover and dealing with these drug dealers every day. I don’t know if I can handle the worry all the time.”

Donovan brushes the pad of his thumb across my cheek, cupping my face, and looks compassionately into my eyes. “I understand your worry and fears. Let me tell you something that may put your mind at ease, though. I love this job. It’s what I am meant to do. It’s who I am. Most people
do
care and are appreciative of what I do for them and the importance of my job. Yes, it can be dangerous working undercover, but my goal at the end of the day is to come home to you and my family. I will never do anything, or take any unnecessary risks to jeopardize that from happening.”

Donovan cups my face in both of his hands and with earnest in his eyes declares, “You are part of my life now and every decision I make these days is based on how it will impact us and our future together. I love you too much, Kenna Sloane, and I will never risk losing what we have together.”

“I love you, too, with all my heart, body, and soul, Donovan Alexander.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “You always have to outdo me. You’re so competitive,” Donovan teases me.

“Jerk.” I hit him on the back with my fist and reach up for a kiss. That’s my man. Always shifting or diffusing the situation with a little joke.

God, I love him.

He is right, though. To love a warrior is to risk loss, but to have never opened my heart to the healing power of true love would have been the real loss in my life. Without risk there is no possibility. Without potential loss there is no reward. Now that I have experienced the balm of true love with Donovan, I’m a slave to his hold.

THE END

WWW.KAITLYNSTONE.COM

Since childhood, Kaitlyn Stone has gravitated toward fairy tales and happily-ever-afters, forever chasing the first love dragon. She is a self-professed adventure junkie, constantly talking her husband and family into some new life adventure, where they’ve learned to just buckle up for the exciting ride. When they do stay home, it’s in sunny Southern California located along the Pacific Ocean.

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