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  Heartfelt lyrics belted out of her mouth as British drove down County Road 17. Something about Johnny Gill’s deep voice blended with the melodic pitch of Ralph Tresvant’s soothed her. She needed to hear it one more time. A light flashed from inside her purse seated in the passenger’s seat, exactly where she intended it to stay. British pressed the repeat button on her stereo to sing the song again. She remembered she needed to add Bobby and Whitney’s “Something in Common” song. For one brief second British took her eyes off the long dark road. And that was all it took.

  * * *

  Donovan waited on British’s stoop until three in the morning. She never arrived. Despite being frozen with the thirty-degree weather, he didn’t plan on budging until they spoke. Common sense told him to at least sit in his car with the heated seats on full-blast but he felt he needed this punishment. The list of reasons why he blamed himself. He never should have used Christian against her. He could have worked harder to keep British from walking out on him. British looked past his physical scar and his emotional ones; he should have known better than to scramble and find the one thing to make her hurt before she hurt him. In the end, they both lost.

  The last time he looked at her played over in his mind again and again. The hurt look in her chocolate-brown eyes haunted him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep again—which was fine with him. Staying up gave Donovan a chance to watch Southwood settle down. The lights on the giant tree in the town center went off shortly after midnight. The Christmas carousel stopped around the same time. The city went to sleep. So where was British?

  Somewhere down the end of the street a garbage truck made its rounds. Just beyond townhome-style businesses, the full moon disappeared and on the opposite side of town threats of yellow streaked the sky.

  “Donovan?”

  Donovan lifted his head. Maggie and Tiffani from the bakery stopped in front of him. “Hi, ladies.”

  “Have you been out here all night?” Maggie asked, pushing a white foam cup in his face. The smell of strong coffee wafted through the little hole at the top of the lid.

  Nodding, Donovan accepted the cup and mumbled thanks before taking a sip. “Define being out here all night.”

  Tiffani and Maggie exchanged a look. He’d seen it before. His stomach dropped as he rose. “What happened? Why are you guys here? Where’s British?”

  “We’re here to get a few of her things,” Tiffani explained.

  “She’s staying at her parents’, isn’t she?” he guessed. Gun or no gun, Donovan fished his car keys out his pocket. He was going to see her tonight.

  “Donovan,” Maggie said, stepping in his way. “British isn’t there. She’s in the hospital.”

  “She was in a car accident earlier tonight,” Tiffani provided. “And I’ll be damned if it was close to the same spot where Christian wrecked.”

  “What? Are you serious?” Donovan didn’t believe it. “What hospital?”

  “Four Points General,” said Maggie. “I’ll show you. Tiff, you grab her stuff, mmm-kay?”

  “‘Stuff’?” he repeated. “What happened? How long is British going to be in the hospital? Is she okay?”

  Maggie grabbed the keys from his hands and he let her. “I’ll drive. I don’t think you’re in the shape for it.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Instead of driving in silence like Donovan hoped, Maggie filled the compartment with idle chatter. She knew Tracy through social networks and did not appreciate the way the starlet had come waltzing into her town. Maggie was actually thinking about making a return to the spotlight just to take it away from Tracy.

  Donovan half listened and glanced out the window. Some of the shop owners were getting ready to open. The bread store put out warm smells. The lights over the high school’s track flickered on. Life was going on while his stood frozen. He needed to know British was okay. Panic pulsed through to his fingertips. History repeated itself again in the form of a car accident. His. Christian’s. And now British’s. He needed to see her with his own two eyes.

  It didn’t dawn on Donovan how fast Maggie drove the Jag. It didn’t matter. She got him there and half parked in the lines of the parking space. Inside, the scents of antiseptic and cleanser assaulted his senses. Bright fluorescent lights stung his eyes.

  “This way,” said Maggie, guiding Donovan through the halls and elevators.

  The doors to their floor rang and announced their presence. Donovan found Joan leaning by the window, wrapped in Levi’s arms. All of British’s siblings were there, as well. His eyes didn’t spy any of her in-laws but he figured they were home with the children. Finn and Cree sat across from each other in a set of blue seats with oversize armrests, their legs stretched out on the shared metal coffee table between the two of them. Irish paced the floor and chewed on her fingernails. Scots stood by the nurses’ station, tapping his fingers on the desk.

  Maggie cleared her throat and announced their presence. “Found someone y’all may know.”

  “Donovan.” Joan pulled away from Levi’s embrace and crossed the waiting room. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She is? he thought. Either the family hadn’t seen the show or they didn’t care. Joan hugged him and Cree and Irish came over to greet him, as well. The ladies didn’t blame him but the men might. Scots offered a head nod before going back to irritating the nurse with his finger solo. Levi stayed in his spot but considering the bloodshot eyes, Donovan didn’t blame him.

  “How is she?”

  Joan’s lips pressed together but still quivered. “She is going to be okay. A bit scarred up, but she’s going to be fine.”

  Absentmindedly, Donovan touched his face. The fifteen-year-old scar ached as bad as his heart. He didn’t want her to spend endless nights thinking about the ways to have a scar like his surgically removed. Scar or no scar, Donovan loved her. He understood better than most that beauty was internal.

  “Is she awake?”

  “We’re waiting for the doctors to tell us she is and wants to see anyone.”

  Cree cleared her throat. “She was conscious when Daddy found her.”

  “You were there?” Donovan turned his attention to the man dressed in a pair of camouflage overalls.

  Half nodding, Levi turned to Donovan. “Yes. I was hunting with some buddies when we heard the crash.”

  Donovan hated that for him. He wanted to say something comforting but before the words came out, a pixie-haired doctor in teal surgery attire stepped out of a side room. Since everyone rushed to her, Donovan assumed she was the doctor.

  “What’s going on, Erin?” Scots said, spotting the doctor first. The nurse behind the desk rolled her eyes in relief.

  “Dr. Hairston—” Joan slipped from Donovan’s side and breezed across the room “—how’s British? When can we see her?”

  Though he had no right, Donovan stood on the outside of the family, who now surrounded the doctor and plied her with questions. Relief washed over him at the good news. From what he gathered, British’s left leg was the point of concern and the concussion had her in and out of consciousness. She has nasty bump on the side of her head and was going to be sore for the next few days and needed to stay in the hospital under observation.

  “Can we see her?” Levi asked after the report.

  “Family may visit.”

  A stab of betrayal spurted through him. Donovan rubbed the back of his head. He moved away to give the family some room. Didn’t the doctor know British wasn’t going to want to be smothered by her siblings, which they more than likely would? Hell, he would, too. Donovan fought against the lump in his throat. He tried to reconcile what the doctor had said and told himself the important point was that British was going to be okay.

  The family went in to visit British. Maggie and the woman named Erin started talking and he gathered from their chatter they were related. Of co
urse they were. Everyone in Southwood seemed to be related one way or another.

  “Donovan,” Levi said at the rear of the group, “you coming?”

  The idea of being rejected once again by British didn’t sound appealing, especially in front of the Woodburys. “I don’t know if she wants to see me.”

  “Because of your show on television tonight?”

  Even with the time alone, Donovan never bothered watching the episode. “I’m not sure what went wrong,” Donovan said.

  “Did you see it?”

  “I was at the STEM-Off,” he explained.

  Levi motioned for everyone else to go inside while he and Donovan hung back. “It wasn’t bad,” said Levi, “rather boring, if you ask me.”

  “Sir, about Tracy...”

  “That woman at the end of the show?” Levi shook his head. “I’m the furthest thing from a video producer but it was easy to tell there was nothing between you and her. Hell, half the show on you was the string of women you’d been with.”

  Donovan hung his head in shame. “I am not that man anymore.”

  “I know you’re not.” Levi chuckled. The loving pat on the back Levi gave Donovan made him feel a little bit better about things. Just a smidge. “Donovan, you would have been detected by my kids. I know you care about British and I have no doubt whatsoever she is crazy over you.”

  As he inhaled deeply, antiseptic scent filled Donovan’s lungs. “I’m not too sure about that. A lot has happened in the last six hours.”

  “Nothing life-altering.”

  “British was in a car accident.” Donovan cocked his head to the side.

  Levi lifted his finger. “Almost.”

  Whether or not the car accident hurt British, harm had come to her and Donovan shouldered the blame. Did she drive while tired? Was she distracted because of him and that’s why she wrecked?

  “The question is,” Levi continued, “what are you going to do about it now?”

  “I want to see her.”

  Levi patted Donovan’s back again. “That’s what I thought. C’mon.”

  The door to British’s room swept open with a soft hush. The Woodburys all looked up at Donovan when he entered the room. The heels of his loafers hitting the ground echoed to the beep of the machine monitoring British’s heartbeat. His heartbeat. The peaks of the machine perked up when she laid eyes on him. Once again a lump formed in his throat. He barely heard Levi usher everyone else out of the room. He just felt the gust of wind as they left on his face and then again on the back of his neck when the door closed behind him.

  A white bandage covered British’s long left leg. Another bandage covered the top portion of her head and the middle of her forehead. Donovan closed his eyes. The memory of his accident, from the moment he pumped the brakes one rainy night, came back to him. He touched his cheek and remembered the blood flowing from the open wound on his face. Knowing this had happened to British broke him. He came to her bedside, kneeling automatically. Their hands touched. A plastic monitor clasped down on her index finger. Donovan kissed her fingertips.

  “I’m so sorry.” He repeated his words over and over, begging her to forgive him.

  “This isn’t your fault,” British said groggily. “You didn’t have to come here.”

  If his body were a cartoon right now, his heart would be shattering. This fight wasn’t over. He wasn’t leaving. “I love you, British,” he professed. “I know you saw a side of me tonight that may have you doubting me. But I’m not that guy I was before. You’re everything I never knew I needed in life, British. I need you to understand me. I need you to believe me. I need you to love me.”

  No matter what anyone told him, he would always feel responsible for this. He pressed his head against the mattress of her bed and did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He wept at the realization he could have lost her tonight. He wasn’t sure how long he lay like that at her side but after some time, after his knees took the shape of the floor beneath him, British pulled her hand from his, resting it on the top of his head.

  “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 12

  Three days in the hospital and a week at home after, British was ready to get back to work. But the doctor insisted on her keeping a light schedule, including not being allowed to attend the Four Points STEM competition.

  No matter how much British tried to prove she was fine to walk with a cane, Donovan wasn’t hearing it. He made himself at home and in her bed, never allowing her to lift a finger for a thing. If he needed to leave for a few hours, he made sure someone stayed with her and kept her off social media. Donovan hired Dr. Erin Hairston, a former resident of Southwood and sworn childhood enemy of Kenzie’s, despite the fact they were first cousins.

  With Christmas right around the corner, British began to believe Donovan wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and she was okay with that. He seemed to enjoy the mundane duties of day-to-day life, including Christmas tree decorating, which they finally finished last night.

  After several arguments of which was better, a multicolorful ornaments and lights tree or one with white lights and matching decorations, British let him take the win. If he loved it, she loved it. The gaudy, overly decorated tree stood in the corner of her living room. Get-well cards and holiday cards mingled on the mantel of the fireplace. Perfectly placed wreaths hung from the four bay windows. And the counters of her kitchen bar were lined with red garlands.

  “Well, you have to be excited about tonight,” Kenzie said, standing behind British in her bedroom at her tri-mirrored vanity.

  Thanks to the same group effort of putting the New Edition posters up on her wall, part of the Tiara Squad had helped to take it down and repaint. She no longer needed to hang on to her past when her future with Donovan was blossoming. Maggie sat on British’s cloth-covered new California king bed and pouted. She adjusted the straps of her denim overalls, which were covered in drops of mint and silver paint from this morning.

  “What’s wrong with you?” British asked, turning her head just enough she didn’t mess up the French twist Kenzie attempted to put in her hair.

  Maggie shook her head. “I’ve clearly been in small-town life so long that I am looking forward to living vicariously through you attending a school dance tonight.”

  Kenzie cursed when she lost the third bobby pin somewhere in British’s hair. “Damn it. Explain to me why your boyfriend won’t hire a stylist?”

  “Something about not trusting anyone with access to the internet.” British laughed when she and Kenzie both glanced back over at Maggie.

  As if surprised, Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “What? I’ve been disconnected for, like, three months now.”

  “You should win an award,” Kenzie bemoaned with an eye-roll.

  “Or at least a man,” Maggie mumbled.

  A soft knock came at the door. Erin poked her head inside and Kenzie tugged a little tighter on British’s hair. “Donovan’s here.”

  Kenzie bent and hugged British by the shoulders. “I don’t know if I helped with your hair or not, but either way, you look beautiful.”

  “If I had my cell phone, I’d take a picture and put you all over Instagram,” Maggie agreed. “C’mon, Kenzie, let’s sign out and get you ready.”

  Tonight was going to be British’s first outing since her accident. Donovan had refused to let anyone else come over. He’d even made Kenzie and Maggie sign in and out, just in case British got wind of a piece of social media. She thought he was being ridiculous but according to him, she’d find out in due time. She had to trust him. The main thing British wanted to know was how the GRITS team had done.

  With a little help from Erin, British came to her feet. In honor of her feeling better, Lexi Pendergrass Reyes sent over a one-of-a-kind perfect dress for British to wear tonight. The bottom half of the dress, made up of soft pink fabr
ic twisted into thousands of roses, covered her white canvas shoes. The off-white sweetheart top was accompanied by a string of pearls around her neck and pearl studs in her ears. The girls exited first.

  British took a deep breath, not sure if she was anxious for being able to go out or just from seeing Donovan again. He’d been gone all afternoon and every time he returned home, she greeted him as if he were a soldier coming back from war. She hated being apart from him but looked forward to the deep kisses when he walked through the door.

  At first Donovan was seated in the Victorian chair visible from the hallway. He stood and smoothed down the jacket of his black tuxedo. They were attending the middle school dance, both overly dressed, but this was special to her. British set her cane aside by the bedroom door. Donovan closed the gap to meet her.

  “I am not sure if I can speak clearly,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her on her lobe. British glanced up and found a piece of mistletoe dangling above her door. She responded appropriately with a welcoming kiss and tasted his sweet mouth. He broke the kiss first and dazzled her with a smile that quickened her heartbeat. “I’m tempted to cancel tonight.”

  “We can at least postpone it,” British suggested and tugged his arm back toward the bedroom. “I don’t think I can wait until tonight to jump your bones.”

  “Oh God.” The deep groan came from the living room and sounded a lot like Finn.

  Sheepishly, Donovan grinned. “I maybe should have started with telling you we weren’t alone.”

  It didn’t take a genius for her to guess that her brothers were standing in her living room along with her sisters, parents and her Carres family.

  “What are you guys doing here?”

  “We’re seeing you off to your first dance, dear,” said Joan, stepping forward.

  Vonna followed and gave British a hug. “We just wanted to see you attend your first dance after so long. We’re so happy and glad you’re getting better.” Her mother-in-law sniffled and allowed Tiffani to pull her to the side.