Part 24 (1/2)

”Sir,” the security guard said in his ear. ”We've got this.”

But the reporter was already heading down the hallway and Jack kept his eyes on him until he disappeared from sight. He thanked the security guard and made his way back to Sabrina.

s.e.x tape? What the h.e.l.l? His mind was all over the place, and he took out his cell, fingers scrolling over a c.r.a.p-ton of text messages and missed calls. He noted that Derek had called him five times in the last half hour. Whatever this was, couldn't be good.

”Are you all right?” Sabrina asked quietly, handing him a coffee. The lounge was empty-thank G.o.d-and he took a sip, though he tasted nothing.

”No,” he said, glancing up at her. ”I don't think I am.”

Sabrina sat down and patted the seat beside her. ”Sit.”

”How's Brett?” he asked, pus.h.i.+ng away everything else. Now was not the time to focus on his s.h.i.+t-but Jesus, s.e.x tape?

She attempted a smile, but it never really reached her eyes. ”The ma.s.ses in his lungs are making it hard for him to breathe. It's just progressed so fast and aggressively.” Her voice broke, and he squeezed her shoulder, trying to offer some sort of comfort.

”It's spread, and they've put a call into his oncologist but the doctor here thinks he might have a week left. Maybe less.”

”Sabrina, I'm so sorry.” There really wasn't anything else to say.

Sabrina took a sip of coffee and stared at the floor. ”I know. Doesn't mean we won't keep fighting. Brett doesn't know any other way. He just...he won't give up until there's no fight left.” She paused and exhaled. ”You two are a lot alike, you know that right?”

Jack wanted to think so, but he couldn't imagine facing the kind of battle his buddy was fighting.

”Promise me you'll never stop fighting for what you want, Jack. Life is a gift, and too many people waste their gift. They don't learn that love and forgiveness go hand in hand.”

He had a feeling they weren't talking about life in general anymore. He thought of Donovan. But if he was being honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he was seriously concerned that whatever the h.e.l.l she was hiding from him, was going to be so big he wouldn't be able to deal.

His cellphone vibrated. ”Do you mind?” he asked Sabrina.

She shook her head and got to her feet. ”No, take it. I've got a phone call of my own to make. Brett's parents will want to be here.”

He glanced down and saw that it was a text from one of his aides, Jonathan Grimes, an up and comer with a good head on his shoulders. The message was short and to the point.

Derek is MIA. Office inundated. How do you want this handled?

There was a link included, and after a few moments Jack clicked it. Once he was done reading all that was there, he f.u.c.king wished he'd never done it.

Chapter Twenty-eight.

It was nearly four in the morning when Donovan heard a vehicle in the driveway. Jack's parents had returned much earlier, subdued with the news of Brett's trip to the hospital. They'd bundled up the twins and taken them back to the Campbell home so that Harry and Morgan could sleep in their own beds.

Neck sore from sleeping on the sofa, Donovan got to her feet and padded across the floor so that she could peek out the back window.

It was Jack's truck. He hugged Sabrina and then waited a bit before heading up to the house. By the time he reached the back door, Donovan had turned on a few lamps and was waiting for him.

Her entire body was a jumble of nerves, and she knew her time was up. There was nothing between her and the truth anymore.

The door squeaked open, and Jack stilled when he caught sight of her. For a moment their eyes held, and then his slid away as he came inside and closed the door behind him.

”How's Brett?” she asked softly.

Jack shrugged and didn't answer right away. He crossed over to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer. He was about to open it when he shoved it onto the counter and proceeded over to the liquor cabinet. Scotch in hand, he took a swig directly from the bottle, and then another before he bothered to look at her.

”Not good.”

Unsure, Donovan's hands ran along the top of the counter.

”Is he-”

”He's not coming home,” Jack said harshly. ”Not coming home,” he said again, so low she barely heard him.

”I'm sorry,” she said.

”Yeah,” Jack replied, taking another swig of scotch. ”So am I.”

He crossed the room and stood in front of the closed blinds, staring at nothing. Pain radiated off of him, but Donovan was frozen, her feet felt as if they were encased in concrete.

”Did you catch the news tonight?” he asked abruptly, though he never turned to her.

”No.”

Okay. He was scaring her. Really scaring her. Thoughts racing, she took a step. Or two.

But then he turned back, his eyes so dark they looked like liquid coal. He looked tired. Haunted. This man that she loved. Donovan made a noise and started forward, but he shook his head, eyes s.h.i.+ny, mouth grim.

”Don't.”

One word was all it took for Donovan to know the jig was up. He knew.

”Oh G.o.d,” she whispered. He knew.

Jack shoved his hand into the front pocket of his shorts and pulled out his cell. She watched him scroll through it, her heart beating out of her chest and when he tossed it to her, she nearly dropped it.

He turned away from her again, and her gaze dropped to the message he'd opened.

Derek is MIA. Office inundated. How do you want this handled?

”Click on the link.” His voice was rough and low and so full of anger that it made Donovan wince.

Her fingers didn't seem to work, but she finally managed to click on the link, one that led her to a report from the Hollywood Tattler website. There was a photo of Donovan and Jack from years ago and a smaller picture of Derek just underneath. Bile rose as she read the headline and blurb.