Walk with Me (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream) (25 page)

It’s Cruz.

What the hell is he doing here?
I look beyond Cruz to Donovan’s car and he is standing outside his car watching us.

“There’s my girl,” Cruz says, flashing me his panty-dropping grin, and walking over the threshold.

I hold out my arm to block Cruz from stepping in and Donovan is rushing up the walkway.
Shit. This is not good.
“What are you doing here, Cruz?” I spit at him.

Cruz tries to stroke my arm that’s blocking his entrance but I pull away from his touch. “I’ve missed you. I haven’t heard from you for a few weeks and I needed my fill of Kenna.”

Donovan is now at the base of the steps to the porch. “Is everything okay, Kenna?” Donovan speaks with the protective, possessive voice I recognize from the ride-along evening. His hands are in fists at his side.

Cruz whips his head around to Donovan, eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Donovan claims, working his jaw back and forth, trying to contain his fury. “Who are you?”

“
I’m
her boyfriend.” Cruz asserts.

What the hell is Cruz saying? He is clearly delusional. He drops in and out every few months, he doesn’t see or hear from me, and he thinks he’s my boyfriend. I knew he was intense, but I’m starting to think he’s a little crazy.

“You are not my boyfriend, Cruz.” I laugh without humor. “And you haven’t heard from me because I haven’t wanted to talk to you or see you,” I spit the words at him, looking toward Donovan for help.

Donovan steps on to the porch next to Cruz. “You heard her. She doesn’t want to talk with you. So it’s time for you to leave.” I’ve never seen this side of Donovan. It’s a weird mixture of his steady commanding presence from work and jealousy.

Cruz turns and pokes two fingers toward Donovan’s chest, careful not to make physical contact. “Dude, just give us a couple minutes alone so I can talk with her in private.”

Donovan’s eyes go black. I’m afraid he going to rip Cruz’s arms off and beat him with them. Donovan has the strength and tactical training to take Cruz down quickly and easily, but I don’t want him to make trouble for himself over me. He’s still on probation and a fight like what I anticipate coming can end his career before it starts. I need to resolve this quickly.

“Don’t touch me or you’re going to have a problem…dude,” Donovan looks to me for permission to claim his rights to me. “Kenna, do you want to talk with Cruz?”

“No. I have nothing to say to you, Cruz. I’m with someone else now. So don’t bother me anymore,” I spit the words directly at Cruz, letting both him and Donovan know who I belong to.

With those words, Donovan steps closer to me, forcing Cruz to back away from the door. Cruz stands in stunned silence, looking between me and Donovan with confusion on his face. “You heard what Kenna said, Cruz. It’s time for you to leave…now.”

Cruz says nothing, aware he stands no chance at a fight against Donovan, and shoves his hands in his pockets, fleeing down the steps toward his motorcycle in defeat. We both watch Cruz ride off and then Donovan sweeps me into the house and shuts and locks the door behind us. I throw myself into his protective arms and he encircles me with his strong grip. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding and melt into his chest.

“Are you okay, babe? You’re shaking?” Donovan laughs into my hair.

“That was intense. He’s a little unpredictable. I was glad you were here to help defuse the situation, but I was also worried about what you might do to him. You are so much bigger than him and could do some serious damage.” I wrap my arms around my savior. Secretly, I’m starting to like having my own personal protector from harm and a man who will fight for me. I’m not used to this type of treatment, someone coming to my rescue and aid. I’m used to having to do everything all on my own. It’s a little confusing. I never thought I was the type of woman who would let a man stake claim to me that I’m his, but I kind of like it. My internal feminist is cursing me, but I don’t care. I like that I’m his and he’s mine and that we fight for and protect what belongs to us.

“I’m no macho type. I’m not going to go all ape on the guy if you want to talk with him, but if he touches me or you then that’s a different story.” Donovan kisses the top of my hair and releases me from his protective grip. “How well do you know this Cruz character?”

“Not that well. We’ve been out a handful times over the past couple years. He was in my class during the last semester of high school. Why?”

“Well, he was hyped up on something, some sort of stimulant. I could see it in his pupils. And the way he was acting, he was definitely under the influence of something. Trained observer, remember?” Donovan taps the side of his nose.

“Oh, that would explain why he would fall off the map for weeks or months at a time and then just drop back in like it was only a few days.”
Ew, gross, I was kissing on that druggie.
“I guess I didn’t know him very well.” I look up at Donovan. “You don’t think he’ll come around again, do you?”

“No. But just in case make sure you use your peephole when you answer the door. If he causes any problems and won’t leave, call the police first, then me second. Okay?”

“Okay.” I lay my head back on Donovan’s chest. “I’m glad you’re in my life. I am one lucky girl.”

“I know.” Donovan pats me on my butt. “Now let’s go eat. All this knight-in-shining-armor stuff makes a guy hungry. Come on, we can take my white stallion to the restaurant.”

I chuckle at his funny comment, but realize his words hold some truth. Maybe those stupid groupies are right—there are still knights in shining armor who protect and save the damsels in distress, but in modern times. And maybe there is such a thing as true love, because I think I’m falling into it with Donovan—my own knight.

* * * *

After dinner, Donovan grabs the leftover bread from the table and wraps it in a napkin. “I want to take you somewhere before we head back home.”

Home. I like the way that sounds. Being with Donovan is like home. It’s the closest to feeling safe and secure I’ve had since spending the weekends with my uncle. I lean over the table and take Donovan’s hands in mine. “Okay. I’m good with doing anything as long as it’s with you,” I say with a sappy smile. I sound so stupid, but I don’t care. I want Donovan to know I’m falling for him and I love being with him, that I don’t want to be with anyone else but him.

“Good. I like hearing that, and I like that you’re expressing yourself and your feelings a little more openly.”

“See. I’m getting better. You may have to push or prod me a little bit, but I like the way it feels to express my true thoughts to you.”

Donovan leads me out of the restaurant, holding my hand, but walks right past his car and turns down a small residential street. With no idea where we are going, I’m enjoying the mystery of it all. We walk two blocks and come to a small bridge. I know where we are now—it’s the Venice canals. I drove by them once as a kid, but never walked along them. We cross the bridge and follow one of the smaller canals with large homes facing the water. Almost every home is designed with a patio and sitting area, and large glass windows and doors looking out onto the water.

“Look. There’s no privacy in these homes.” I point to a patio as we walk by. “Strangers can walk by and watch you having dinner or your morning coffee.”

“I know and standing here you don’t even realize two blocks away is a major boulevard. It feels like we are in another country, not the middle of Venice.”

“Have you ever been to another country?” I ask.

“I’ve been to many states and Canada and Mexico, but I haven’t been overseas, yet.” Donovan pulls a piece of bread from the napkin and tears it in half, giving it to me.

I take the bread, tear pieces from the crust, and toss them into the water. The ducks flock to the floating crumbs. “I want to travel. I’d like to do a study abroad program. I think that would be cool. But I also want to travel through Europe one summer. You know, do the whole backpack and train hopping adventure.”

“Now, that sounds like fun. Just hop on a train to the next town. Stay until you’ve seen enough and then move on when you get bored.”

“I know right? You’ve got to do that kind of stuff while you’re young, before marriage and kids.” Wow. Realization hits me. This is the first time we’ve talked about our plans for the future other than work and school. What our hopes and dreams are. What we want to fill our time with between or after work and school.

“Yeah, you’re right it’s a different kind of travel and adventure when you have kids. We used to travel back east with my parents during the summer and visit family up and down the coast and into Canada, but it was a very family friendly type of trip.” He waves his hands to the houses we’re standing in front of. “It’s like these houses. This isn’t the best place to raise a family. There are no yards for kids to play in, and the water-safety issue is problem enough for me to not to want to have kids if I lived here.”

“I agree. Kids need space to run and play, and they need a neighborhood with other kids their own age that they can walk to school with or hang out with after school.” Unlike where I grew up, with the swinging singles of Marina Del Rey, but that was because my parents were selfish. Donovan is the opposite. He’s giving and caring. He’d make a good father. I’ve seen him with his niece.

Wait.

What the hell am I thinking? We’ve been dating less than two months and I’m picturing Donovan as a father. I’m moving way ahead of myself. I have years of college left and career aspirations. I’m not looking to get married and start a family. I never even thought I’d get married, let alone have the whole kids-and-house-with-a-white-picket-fence fantasy.

“But having kids is something way in the future for me,” I inform Donovan, just in case he was thinking otherwise. There, that should set the record straight.

“Oh absolutely, for both of us,” Donovan agrees, “but it’s part of our purpose in life and as a responsible person I believe we have to choose our partner wisely and commit for the long haul.”

Surprised by his outdated answer, I brace myself for a debate. “You think our purpose in life is to have children? And I guess you expect the wife to stay home and raise the kids while the husband goes off to work?”

“No, not at all,” he defends. “I think as mammals, which we are, procreation is part of our purpose. You know survival of the fittest and all. He who procreates, lives on through his or her children. But as individuals with a brain and our own unique gifts and talents, we each have a purpose to contribute to the world. Some are born knowing their purpose in life and others, like you and me, have been shown the way through the actions and circumstances in our lives.”

Donovan tosses his last piece of bread and wipes the crumbs from his hands. “And no, I don’t think the wife needs to stay home and raise the kids. I’m not looking for that kind of wife anyway. But I do think one of the parents or grandparents or aunts or uncles or cousins should be there with the child. Look at the influence your uncle had on you growing up and that was only on the weekends. The extended family is overlooked for their importance in raising children.”

I take Donovan’s hand and we continue strolling along the canal. The ducks follow along in the water hoping for more crumbs. “It seems like you’ve put a lot of thought into this, how you see your future homelife.”

“I have. After Dillon died, I did a lot of introspection and soul-searching. It helped me figure my path for my career. And up until Dillon’s death I had a great childhood. Either my mother or father was always home, while the other one was working at the store or the triplex. They made it work.”

“Well then what do you think happened with Dil—” I shut my mouth when I realize what I was asking. I shouldn’t bring this up. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that, Donovan.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t think it had anything to do with what my parents did or didn’t do. I think he just started running with the wrong crowd and was influenced into trying something that he couldn’t stop and it eventually took over his entire life.” Donovan stops, pulling me to a stop with him. He stands at the water’s edge, staring into the canal. “Dillon was such a talented artist, so brilliant and perceptive. He never felt like he fit in at school because he didn’t play sports or excel academically. Unfortunately, he didn’t channel his talents and celebrate his uniqueness. He allowed others to skew his view of himself as negative.”

I drop Donovan’s hand and wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry for him. That sounds so sad. We all have struggles and difficulties in life, but that doesn’t have to define who we are as people and what we can contribute to the world. It doesn’t have to be our identity or badge that we wear our entire life.”

“I know and that’s one of the things I love about you, Kenna.” Donovan turns his body into mine and encircles me in his arms. “You have such an amazing, positive outlook on life even with what you went through growing up. You don’t have a poor-me attitude or victim mentality. And you are so beautiful, confident, and strong. The fact that you are here with me now, open to us, and letting go, that is testament to your strength and adaptability. You hold the characteristics of a warrior, of a survivor. Someone who has purpose and goals in life and will survive what she needs to in order to reach those.”