Page 20 of Forever His (The Donovans: Secret Son #6)

Roslyn Ausby

Chicago, Illinois

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said as if she really had the capacity to do such a thing.

Roslyn wished she did. Sometimes, anyway.

She wished that she could say what upset her, process that situation and move on to the next.

One of her deepest desires was to finally fit in, to be what everyone else was and to feel their acceptance.

A glance at the shrink they’d sent in to determine whether or not she could leave the hospital today had her giggling.

He was a short man. Even though he was sitting down she could tell because he’d had to point his toes for his shoes to touch the floor.

He acted as if that was deliberate, the way he placed the notepad on his lap and held that pen loosely between his fingers.

She wasn’t fooled. People rarely fooled her.

Well, one person had.

She laughed hard, her chest rumbling with the sound, her arms folding over her midsection because the laughter seemed to bubble up from a place deep inside of her. A place not often visited but cherished just the same.

“What makes you laugh, Roslyn?” he asked.

He had lots of questions. Even though he hadn’t written any of her answers on that notepad.

That’s what shrinks did. They asked questions.

They never answered any. But she’d accepted a long time ago that nobody knew why she thought the way she did, and thus could never truly answer her most pressing inquiries.

There was no blueprint to her brain that could be read, deciphered, or understood.

So she was stuck like this. It was fine.

She’d accepted it. She just wished everyone around her could accept as well.

“You’re funny,” she finally told the shrink when the urge to laugh at what was obviously not comical subsided.

“Am I?”

He was tapping the edge of the pen against his bearded chin now.

It wasn’t a neat beard, but scraggly and an odd blend of the copper tone of the thick hair on top of his head, a dingy brown and snowy white.

She presumed he was dying the hair on his head because his eyebrows were going white as well.

His clothes were baggy, the shirt wrinkled.

He could also use a new pair of shoes. The ones he wore were scuffed.

And there was no great smelling cologne.

No shiny gold watch or cufflinks at the end of his shirt sleeves.

Of course, she didn’t know this for certain but she was almost positive that when Dr. George packed up and left this office for the day, he would not be going into the parking lot and getting into a silver BMW.

That was Henry’s car.

Roslyn clenched her arms tighter around her midsection and licked her now dry lips. She felt chilly and when she closed her eyes, it was dark. Not just in this room but everywhere, even in her soul.

“It’s not funny,” she said slowly. “Nothing is funny.”

Her voice was like an echo through the darkness and she shivered before opening her eyes with a start.

“I’m finished,” she continued. “All of this is finished.”

“What’s finished?” Dr. George asked as his eyes narrowed.

It was a suspicious movement, one which she was certain he wasn’t supposed to show.

Shrinks were supposed to be non-judgmental, unbiased, and compassionate.

They weren’t. That was another lie they liked to tell the ones who ended up sitting on the couch across from them.

Roslyn knew that. She’d always known it.

So Dr. George and his reactions to her were no surprise.

Not like the one she’d received this morning when the nurse had come into her room to see if she was awake.

“I want to live,” Roslyn answered.

After saying the words she pulled her arms slowly away from her midsection, letting each one rest on her thighs.

She stared down at them, at the white bandages that now circled each wrist. A scent assailed her and she gasped.

It was the tangy aroma of fresh blood. Roslyn did not close her eyes because in place of the darkness she knew she would see red.

It had seeped all over the white tile floor of the hotel bathroom instantaneously.

One stroke of the razor blade. Then another. Then red, everywhere.

There had been no pain, none other than the heat of betrayal that had stayed with her every second of every day since she’d last seen Henry.

His words did not replay in her mind. She’d forbade them from doing so.

But the pain remained. It had become a part of her in the last three months, so imbedded in everything she did that she’d signed her name as Roslyn Donovan on the hotel receipt when she’d checked in.

“I want to live for him,” she told the shrink.

“Why does your living have to be for someone else? Do you feel like you are not enough alone?”

“No!” she yelled and shot up from the chair.

Dr. George dropped the pen, the notepad slipping from his lap to hit the floor.

“I’m not alone,” she told him through clenched teeth.

At her sides her fists were balled painfully tight. Her body trembled and she felt the familiar war within slowly beginning to churn into action once more. This is how it always began. The battle between right and wrong, acceptable and unacceptable, safe and dangerous.

“I am not alone,” she said in a much calmer tone.

It was a deceitful tone, she knew that. Whether or not Dr. George recognized that, she didn’t care. Oh, yes, she did. She had to now. And so Roslyn smiled. She let loose a little chuckle and released her fingers. Moving one hand slowly she placed it on her stomach and the smile grew earnestly.

“I won’t be alone ever again,” she whispered. “Now that I know he’s in there, living and breathing inside of me. I have him to think about how I’m going to take care of him. He’s mine,” she continued. “He’s all mine.”

Her hand stayed firmly on her stomach where the baby she’d just learned she was carrying grew.

Her mind, however, circled back to the man.

The one who took a vow to be with another woman, but who would always belong to her.

Now, they were connected by another life and Henry could not deny her.

He would not, she was certain of that fact because the Donovans were all about family.

“He’s all mine,” she said once more, even as Dr. George had stood and helped her back to the chair.

He was saying something, speaking to someone. Roslyn didn’t know who, nor did she care.

He’s all mine. She could hear it in her head even though she was certain her lips had stopped moving. All. Mine.

Henry Donovan

Four Weeks Later

Las Vegas, Nevada

Donovan Oilwell Headquarters was located in downtown Houston, but Henry had finally convinced his father and uncles that expanding the company to Las Vegas was a viable idea.

To be honest, the move hadn’t taken much convincing since his father, Ike Donovan, had already introduced the concept to his father, Rowan, and Uncle Charleston years before.

Then, the thought had been for them to open their own refinery so that they would not only be drilling for the oil and natural gas, but they would be able to produce the final products for sale.

Henry recalled his father talking about this before they’d gone to The D Ranch to celebrate Gran’s eighty-first birthday.

That had been four years ago, and Gran was gone now.

Rowan, Henry’s grandfather, had died that following year after suffering a heart attack while in the middle of a business meeting.

And while Henry’s great Uncle Charleston was still alive, after his mother and his brother’s deaths, he’d allowed his sons and nephews to take more control of the business.

Henry and his cousin Cephus had immediately pushed for expansion.

Cephus headed east to Virginia and Henry went west to Vegas.

His other cousin, Gabe, decided that global expansion made more sense for him and went to the UK.

Now, Donovan Oilwell was a global company.

It was still new, but Henry’s cousins and brothers thought they were moving in a good direction.

Additionally, Henry was ecstatic about the path his life had also taken.

Beverly was due to have their first child in about two months.

Married life, even though it had only been three months now, was everything he’d known it would be.

He was sitting in his office, behind a rich mahogany desk on the tenth floor of one of several high-rise buildings they owned in the Donovan Corporate Center located in downtown Las Vegas.

He wore a black turtleneck beneath a charcoal gray suede Halston jacket, and slacks in a lighter shade of gray.

On his desk were stacks of papers, a lamp, a telephone and his wedding picture, with him and Beverly smiling as if it were the happiest day of their lives.

Soon, there would be another photo. One of his first born.

He was anxious to know what the sex of the baby was even though Henry was already certain that he couldn’t love another human being more than he did this child.

It was because it was his and Beverly’s, a result of the love they’d shared since day one.

The love they’d fought for even when distance, time, and other relationship interests threatened to tear them apart.

Yes, the battle had been hard, but they’d won.

Thank all that was holy that they’d won.

Henry smiled at the thought and was just about to delve into the next set of contracts Al had sent by overnight mail for him to review.

There was an opportunity for some offshore drilling they needed to consider.

He’d read only the first paragraph of the first page when there was a commotion and the door to his office swung open.

Jalissa, his secretary, pushed past the woman in front of her and rushed to say, “She would not wait, Mr. Donovan. Would you like me to call security?”