Donovan eased onto the bed, enfolding her hand in his. He was shaking, she realized. He looked utterly undone, nothing like the calm, composed man he’d always presented. His eyes were haunted and he looked grief-stricken.
As more of the haze cleared, she took a better look at him and winced at what she saw. He looked haggard. Like he hadn’t slept in days. He was unshaven, his clothing rumpled. He looked like he was hungover after going on one hell of a bender.
“I don’t understand what happened,” she said helplessly. “How did I get here? Why am I here? Travis said Walt was dead. How?”
Donovan stroked her cheek, almost as if reassuring himself that she was here and awake and seemingly well. For a man who professed not to care about her, he looked weak with relief to see her.
“There is so much I need to say to you,” he choked out. “But I don’t want to overburden you. You’ve been out of it for three days. Three of the longest days of my life. And if you aren’t feeling up to this, if you want to rest, then it’ll wait. But Eve, I cannot let you suffer the misapprehension you’re under for a minute longer.”
Her brow furrowed as she struggled to make sense of his impassioned words. She tried to sit up but found she lacked the strength to do so. She looked down in confusion, almost expecting to still be in restraints. But no, her arms had been free. She’d held her brother and sister in her arms, though the effort had cost her considerably.
She did want to drift back into the void. She wanted to float in the sea of nothingness where reality didn’t intrude. And now that she knew Cammie and Travis were safe, that Walt was no longer a threat, she merely wanted to be away from the truth.
But wait. He’d said he didn’t want her to suffer the misapprehension she was under. What did it mean?
“What is it you want, Eve?” Donovan asked, concern burning in his eyes.
“Can you help me sit up?” she asked, shamed that she couldn’t even perform this one small task.
“Of course. But be careful. I don’t want you to overdo it.”
He gently lifted her forward with one arm and then stuffed several pillows behind her back so she was propped up and comfortable. Then he eased her back and she nearly sighed in relief at the comfort of the feather pillows surrounding her like the softest cloud.
“I don’t understand any of this,” she said, still feeling as though she were in some bizarre alternate reality. “You said . . .” She broke off, tears welling again as grief hit her square in the chest.
Donovan scooted closer to her until their bodies were touching, and he gathered her hands in his, leaning forward until their foreheads touched in an intimate manner.
“I never betrayed you, Eve. You have to know that before you know anything else. I love you. I love you with every part of me. There isn’t a single part of me that isn’t solidly, madly in love with you. And I will live with regret for what you suffered as a result of you overhearing an out-of-context snippet of conversation for the rest of my life.”
She looked at him in puzzlement, hope unfurling despite her efforts to pull it back.
“It was a setup,” he explained. “A plan to draw your stepfather out. I was so arrogant. Thought I had it all planned out and he’d just fall into my lap and I’d take him down and you and I would live happily ever after with Travis and Cammie.”
“But I heard you say that I was mentally unstable, that I was a danger to Travis and Cammie and that you were offering me in exchange for Travis and Cammie, that Walt wanted revenge and that he’d have it if you turned me over to him.”
She could barely get the words out as pain, fresh and vivid, flashed in her mind. More and more came back to her as the fog lifted, forcing her to face reality.