Authors: Ranae Rose
They’d kept a few pieces of furniture in storage during the sale – Clementine had been ready to give up the house, but not all of its contents. Together, she and Donovan had chosen a few favorite pieces to take to their new home.
“Harrisburg?”
“I have a job there starting next week. It’s where we’re going to live.” They’d already secured a rental house outside of the small city – there they’d have the peace and privacy of rural Pennsylvania without the problems they’d faced in Willow Heights. No troublesome history, just a life together.
Donovan was even planning to open a new garage there. After the drama caused by his arrest – which the whole town knew about – and the loss of Mike, he’d decided it’d be best to stop leasing the facility in Willow Heights and simply move on. Starting over might take a while, but they’d have Clementine’s salary to live off of while he laid the foundations for a new business.
Pamela nodded, and a few moments of silence stretched between them, punctuated by the soft
cling
of forks against plates and the occasional subdued conversation in the background. It was mid-afternoon – past lunch hour and between dinner, not an especially busy time. “I’m glad I ran into you before you left, because there’s something I need to say to you. I would’ve said it before, I just… I was afraid you wouldn’t want to hear it.”
A month had passed since Donovan’s arrest and Clementine’s last meeting with her mother. A sense of wariness crept over her as she braced herself for what would come next.
“I’m sorry, Clementine. About what Trevor did to you, and not believing you. I’m so sorry.” Pamela’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it was strained with emotion that was clearly reflected in her eyes – the same brown eyes Clementine had inherited. “I should’ve believed you all those years ago, and now I feel terrible.”
An avalanche of something tumbled through Clementine – surprise, definitely, and maybe a hint of relief, too.
“After it all came to the surface about Trevor and the Nicholls girl, I knew you’d told us the truth that summer, before you left for college. I’ve hardly thought of anything else since. I can’t believe I…”
The woman standing in front of Clementine wasn’t the one she remembered from her teenaged years – Robert’s wife. She was the single mother she remembered from before then, a real woman, imperfect but human, vulnerable and capable of real emotion. Her hair was no longer its natural brown, but the artificial blonde seemed less polished now; she wore her hair loose and faintly wavy, not sleek or elegantly restrained. Her make-up was lighter too, allowing the face beneath to show through, faint lines and all.
“I’m sorry the truth had to come out the way it did,” Clementine said, meaning it. Standing there in Ann’s, she thought suddenly of Mike, of how one never really knew when the last time they’d see someone would be, or what would happen after they parted. “And … thanks. For the apology. It means a lot.”
It did; even if the past had carved a trench in her heart, an apology didn’t hurt. Not when it was obviously sincere.
Her mother nodded, the faintest hint of relief softening her expression. “Robert and I split up, believe it or not. I… It seems like something you should know.”
Clementine couldn’t keep her shock off her face. “I had no idea.”
“Not many people do. We’ve kept it quiet, so far. The whole thing with Trevor was just more than our marriage could handle.” She stood a little straighter, shoulders squarer than they’d been a moment before. “He’s not handling it well, and I’m done making excuses for him.”
As a timer went off somewhere beyond the lunch counter, in the kitchen, Clementine was dumbstruck. To say that she approved of the split would be an understatement, but it didn’t seem like the right thing to say. “Donovan’s waiting for me in the moving truck, and we have to return it by a certain time.”
Pamela nodded, stepping aside, out of her way.
Still, Clementine lingered. “We’re getting married next month.”
Pamela’s gaze drifted to Clementine’s left hand. “When I saw the ring last time, I thought maybe you were engaged. Congratulations.” There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice.
“The wedding’s going to be in Florida,” she said, spurred on by her mother’s new attitude – or rather, lack thereof. “Miami, on the beach. We’re only inviting a few guests – a friend of Donovan’s from the Marine Corps and a friend of mine from college, plus her family – but if you want to be there, you’re welcome.”
The beach wedding had been Donovan’s idea, and she’d instantly fallen in love with it.
The way Pamela raised her brows leant her an air of surprise – one that Clementine shared. She hadn’t planned to invite her mother to the wedding, but she couldn’t deny that it felt right. “I know it’s far away, but let me know if you want to attend. You have my number.”
Her mother nodded. She didn’t smile, but there was a certain brightness to her expression nonetheless. “Maybe a trip to Florida is just what I need.” When she left with a final goodbye, Clementine stepped up to the counter.
“One whole French silk pie to go, please. And two coffees for the road.” She and Donovan had decided that although leaving Willow Heights behind was a blessed relief, they’d miss slipping into their usual booth at Ann’s for pie and coffee. This way, they’d have enough French silk to carry them through the first few days in their new home.
When she exited with the pie in a bag and a coffee in each hand, Donovan was idling by the curb, his arm – now free from its sling and bandages – hanging out the window. “Hey,” he said when she approached. “Have anything good for me?”
She motioned with the coffee and held up the bag as she climbed into the truck’s cab.
“I don’t mean like that.” Light flashed in his eyes as she settled the pie between them and placed the coffees in cup holders.
“What do you mean, then?” she teased, feeling unexpectedly and inexplicably light after the exchange inside the diner. Strange as it was, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“I mean you’d better kiss me, or else I’ll sing all the way to Harrisburg.”
“Do I get to choose the songs?”
“No way.” He burst into the first few notes of an all-too-familiar tune, voice carrying out the window and into the November air. “In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a miiiiine…”
Several people on the sidewalk turned to stare, casting bewildered glances toward the truck.
“Shut up, Donovan,” she said, leaning forward. “Or I’m going to go back to using my college nickname.”
He persisted until her lips brushed his jaw, then all was silent. In fact, it was so quiet inside the truck that she could hear as well as feel the hot rush of his breath against her cheek. Giving in to temptation rather than his threat, she crushed her mouth against his.
It was a deep kiss, a long kiss, and when they pulled apart, people were still staring.
As Donovan drove away from the curb, grinning smugly, she leaned back against the seat, unable to keep a similar expression off of her face. If their new life was half as good as their last kiss in Willow Heights, it would be a happy one.
“Try not to get smacked in the face by a wave this time,” Ricardo said as they crossed the white sand beach.
“No promises,” Donovan replied, giving Clementine’s hand a squeeze.
They were a casual wedding party – a bride and groom plus a best man and maid of honor, and the mother of the bride. Baby Isabel was the flower girl, though her father Steve had to carry her and make sure she didn’t put any of the rose petals she clutched into her mouth.
Their attire was casual, too – a tea-length white gown and veil for Clementine and turquoise dresses for her mother, Jackie and Isabel. Donovan wore a white shirt and khaki shorts, as did Ricardo and Steve. It was December twenty-first, but in Miami, the sun shone and a warm breeze made dress hems and shirt sleeves flutter. A wedding so close to Christmas might not have worked for some, but for them, everyone who mattered was there.
The fact that Clementine had only been working her new job in Harrisburg for a month didn’t matter either; the office was closed for the holidays, and she wouldn’t need to return to Pennsylvania until after New Year’s. There would be plenty of time for a beach honeymoon, and they’d spend Christmas day with Ricardo and – yes – her mother.
Clementine hadn’t forgotten the past, but when she was face to face with her mother, she didn’t seem like that woman anymore – the one who’d betrayed her. She was kinder and listened more – more like the woman she’d been before she’d met Robert. She’d even apologized to Donovan.
And Donovan hadn’t objected to her attending the wedding, which, knowing him, was a big deal.
“Beautiful,” Donovan said as they approached the surf, following in the footsteps of the minister who would officiate the ceremony.
“I know,” Clementine said, staring out at the aquamarine sea, striped with whitecaps under a blue ribbon of sky. “I wonder if we’ll see dolphins again.” The sun hung high overhead, shedding light on the water below and rendering the shallows clear as glass. It was a beautiful day at the beach – a beautiful day for a wedding.
“I meant you,” he said, leaning closer, so she could feel his breath on her cheek.
She smiled, letting the top of her head brush his jaw. A few strands of her hair – she’d worn it loose, with a single white flower tucked into one side – blew into her face, but she brushed them away. The scent of Donovan lingered in her lungs, combined with the aroma of sea salt and sunbaked sand.
“Ready?” the minister asked, stopping a few yards from the gently crashing surf and turning his back to the sea.
Clementine stopped too, facing Donovan, never letting go of his hand. The vows they’d chosen were simple; the ceremony would only take a few minutes, and then they’d be united by law as well as by fate. It felt right, but it didn’t feel like a huge step – they never would’ve been reunited if it hadn’t been meant to be. There was just no other way of explaining it. “Yes.”
Donovan stared back at her, eyes more silver than grey in the sunlight. His voice was all but drowned out by the crashing surf, but reading his lips was easy. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready since the day I met you.”
Time changes everything, except what’s meant to be.
Thank you for reading
Hell Without You
.
If you enjoyed Clementine and Donovan’s story, you might like the music I listened to as I wrote it. For inspired listening, try the songs I listened to as I wrote
Hell Without You.
View the
Hell Without You
playlist on my site.
-Ranae
Ranae Rose is the best-selling author of over a dozen adult romances and counting. She calls the US East Coast home and resides there with her family, German Shepherd dogs and overflowing bookshelves. Writing and reading are lifelong passions that consume most of her time, and she’s always working on bringing her latest love story idea to life for readers.
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Read on for an excerpt from Ranae’s best-selling MMA romance,
Battered Not Broken.