One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,58

know you don’t like the dark, Boomer,” Donovan said, “and I know you just want to climb into my bed and go to sleep for the night. But we’re going to take another drive.” To take his mind off Hope. To leave the day behind. To forget kissing her and holding her in his arms.

He drove with no destination in mind but ended up at the entrance to the cemetery again.

He looked down at Boomer. “I didn’t plan it, but I guess you and I are going to visit Beau.” It was strange. This was Donovan’s third trip to the cemetery since coming back to Sweet Home. Yes, he’d thought about Beau throughout the years, but he never imagined he’d spend so much time at his grave.

Also strange? That being here was comforting.

Leaving the headlights on, he climbed out of the car and walked with Boomer over to Beau’s headstone. Donovan laid the red Hot Wheels car atop the grave marker. “I thought I might hang on to this, but I think it belongs here with you, Beau.”

He crouched down and set Boomer next to him.

“I’m trying to forgive Hope, I really am, but I might not be able to. I hope you understand, Beau.” Donovan sighed deeply. “I’m still wrapping my head around it, that I have a daughter. You know I always wanted kids . . .” His voice quavered and fell silent. He wiped dirt from the stone. “So, Hope came to work at the lodge today.” Donovan looked off into the darkness. “We should never have worried about Hope being fragile. The way she’s raised Ella all alone, she’s got plenty of grit.”

Boomer reached up and put his paws on Donovan’s thighs. He picked him up and stood. “I know I gave Hope the job, but I’m not sure I can let her keep it. Not sure I can be around her day in and day out.” He looked up at the sky and tried to put his feelings into words. “She’s gotten under my skin again. Loving her before took everything away from me . . . you and Nan. I can’t go through it again. I just can’t. I’m not sure I’m that strong.”

From nowhere, a piece of paper glided in on the wind, as if it were a message from above, and landed at Donovan’s feet. He looked around at the trees surrounding the cemetery. A moment ago, there hadn’t been any breeze at all. Donovan picked up the paper. It was a list of chores and errands—sweep entryway, stock pantry, clean out garage, and so on. Donovan broke into a smile, then gazed at the gravestone. “Brilliant. I knew I could count on you, little brother. Thanks for the idea.”

He looked down at Boomer. “I think we can go home now. What do you think?”

Boomer looked up at him and Donovan could’ve sworn the puppy smiled.

* * *

• • •

AFTER ELLA WENT to her room, Hope got into bed, but she couldn’t sleep. It was probably because she’d had that nap earlier, and not because she couldn’t stop thinking about how comfortably she and Donovan had worked alongside each other in his grandmother’s studio.

Hope climbed out of bed and went to the kitchen, thinking she might have a snack. But the moose fabric called to her from the ironing board and sewing won out over snacking. It wouldn’t wake Ella; her daughter was a hard sleeper and had grown up with the late-night whir of Hope’s sewing machine.

She set up her machine and began stitching. Normally, sewing was absorbing, but tonight, her mind was on something else. Someone else . . . Donovan. She kept reliving the kiss over and over again. He’d stirred her comatose insides back to life. And not in a good way. It was uncomfortable loving him the way she did. The wound had reopened, making the pain fresh. But ohh . . . it had been wonderful to embrace him once more. At the same time she was truly frightened of what would certainly happen . . . she was going to experience the heartache of losing him all over again.

“It means nothing,” she said to her idle sewing machine. “Donovan was grateful, that’s all. Now get back to work.”

An hour later, the simple curtains were done and Hope crawled back into bed. As she pulled up her quilt, she said, “Izzie, if you’re around, can you let me sleep?” Finishing their conversation from earlier could wait.