Finding Their Way Back (Part 7)

Someone asked for this, I don't even know why you would but here it is. πŸ€¦πŸ½β€β™€οΈ

Also if you haven't read the previous four chapters that come before this I suggest you do so cause this is slightly connected.

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It was nearly nine o'clock at night as Donovan stepped into the elevator. A faint hum melded with the classical song playing through the speakers. He rested his head against the cushioned wall, exhaustion weighing on him. When the doors dinged, he opened his eyes and lifted himself off the side of the elevator.

As he headed down the apartment hall, he buried his hand in his pocket, pulling out his keys. He turned the handle, already feeling the relief of being home and getting to see Carter's face for the first time in 48 hours. When he stepped inside, he found her curled up on a chair at the dining table, files and a computer sitting in front of her.

It had been three months since she had been taken and tortured by the Castello crime family. The FBI had granted her time to recover, giving her desk work that could be done at home and help ease her back into her job. She was finally putting back on the weight she had lost over dealing with trauma but there was a faint haunted look that had yet to leave her eyes.

Donovan dropped his keys into the bowl, waiting for Carter to look up, for her to see him and make the long hours he had spent on surveillance all disappear.

But she didn't respond at all to his presence, instead continued to type away at her computer.

Hurt, Donovan turned away from her and headed into the kitchen. At the sight of unwashed dishes in the sink frustration coiled in his stomach. He opened the dishwasher and found there was plenty of room. He straightened and spun around to Carter.

"You understand that you can load up your dishes, right? You don't need me telling you this."

Finally, Carter raised her head, surprise darting across her face.

"You're home," she said.

Donovan curled his fist, his irritation growing.

"Nice of you to notice," he said.

Carter blinked at his response and Donovan grabbed the two plates, adding them to the dishwasher.

"I can do that," she said.

"Doesn't look like you can," he said. He faced her. "Carter, you understand that you do live with someone who works hard to keep things clean, right?"

Carter's face went closed off and she focused back on the computer screen.

"Don't worry, I'm well aware of this fact. Leave the rest of the dishes, I'll deal with them."

"It's fine, I can take care of it."

Silence followed this statement as Donovan emptied the sink and had to hold himself back from slamming the dishwasher door closed. He walked into their bedroom and tossed his suit jacket on the bed, it was quickly followed by his tie, collared shirt, and undershirt. He grabbed his boxing gloves and put them on.

Despite the exhaustion that he had carried with him upon arriving at the apartment, he felt ramped up and tight with tension. He slammed his fist into the bag, taking out his frustration on the taut leather. With each blow, he felt his emotions subsiding.

Breathing heavily and sweating, he stopped and placed his hands on his hips. He felt drained, the bout of annoyance set to rest. He replaced his gloves in the drawer and walked back out to the living room. Carter hadn't moved. He looked at her, seeing the layers of files spread out around her. Feeling the gap that had grown between them, he let out a breath.

"I was going to order dinner," he said. "You want anything special?"

Instead of accepting the olive branch, Carter continued to work, barely stopping to answer him.

"I don't care."

Donovan closed his eyes, his irritation returning.Β  "Fine."

He pulled out his phone and placed an order, the angered part of him acting without thinking, getting sides that he knew Carter didn't care for. Finished, he went to shower off. By the time he was clean and in a pair of sweats, there was a knock on the door. He paused in the hallway, looking at Carter but she made no move to answer it. Shaking his head, he crossed the room and opened the door.

A girl in her early twenties was waiting on the other side, holding out a plastic bag. At the sight of Donovan shirtless, she blinked but managed to hold onto her smile.

Donovan smiled at her.

The second he did so he knew it was a bad idea but couldn't stop himself, Carter's disregard of him stabbing at him.

"Here's your order," the girl said.

He took the bag. "Thanks. Give me a second, I need to get you a tip."

She gave him a flirtatious grin. "I'm pretty sure you already have."

Laughing, he found his wallet and pulled out a ten, handing it to her.

"Thanks again," he said.

"It was my pleasure."

With one final, long look, the girl left and Donovan closed the door. When he turned back to Carter, she was staring at her computer screen, holding her emotions in check.

But Donovan knew her enough by now to see her annoyance in the hard line of her lips. His angered self relished her look.

When she said nothing about his exchange with the delivery girl, he set the bag down on the coffee table and pulled out boxes. A spicy aroma filled the air as Donovan popped open a container began to eat.

"Food is here," he said, settling back on the couch.

Carter rose and rifled through the options, frowning at what she found. Donovan watched her, waiting for the moment she would meet his gaze and make a comment about his choices. Waited for the chance to have it out with her. She set the container she was holding down.

"I don't feel like eating," she said.

A fresh wave of frustration washed over Donovan.

"You know you need to eat, you're still underweight and healing. Eat, Carter."

For a second he thought she would fight him, but she didn't and somehow that was worse. She chose the smallest amount of food and went back to the table.

Without her sitting beside him, Donovan found he no longer had any want to eat. He forced himself to finish off what was in his hand, but he tasted none of it.

After he stored away the leftover food, he paused in the living room, hands tucked into his pockets.

"I'm going to head to bed," he said.

"Okay."

Carter didn't look at him. Donovan remained there, wondering if he stood there for long enough if she would eventually see him.

Instead of testing his theory, he headed to their room. There was a book already on his nightstand but he ignored it, taking a new book off one of the shelves and climbing into bed. He tried to read, but the longer time went on and Carter didn't come him he found that he could take in nothing.

Giving it up, he shut off his lamp and laid down. He didn't fall asleep despite how exhausted he had been earlier. He stared out at the darkened windows, feeling the emptiness of Carter's spot.

After an hour, he heard the patter of her footsteps and felt as the bed dipped with her weight. He made no sound, waiting for her to fall asleep.

Instead, the mattress squeak as she slid across to him. In the next second, he felt her hand on his arm and the press of her forehead into his back between his shoulder blades. Her breath was warm on his skin.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I should have taken care of the dishes. You work so hard all day and I know you like the place being clean."

Donovan breathed out and relaxed, all his frustration disappearing at the softness in her voice. He twisted around and Carter raised herself onto her elbow, staring down at him. He cupped her face.

"I'm sorry. That shouldn't have mattered. I was looking forward to seeing you and when you didn't even notice I was home I sort of snapped."

Carter rested her hand on his chest. "I didn't hear you. I was waiting. It was the reason I was working so hard I was trying not to think about you and how much I missed you. I knew you were working hard with this new case and I didn't want to bother you."

Donovan chuckled and ran a hand down his face. "Of course, then I come home and got mad at you about dishes when all I wanted to do was see you because I've missed you."

Carter smiled and ran her thumb over his chin. "I guess we both overreacted."

"We did. I'm sorry about the food."

"I'm sorry about not eating with you."

"Also I'm sorry about the delivery girl."

"I think it's safe to say this was not one of our better days."

"Agreed." He caressed her cheek, staring at her face in the dimness. "How did you sleep while I was gone?"

Carter went still, giving him the answer he had already guessed.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked.

She shook her head but said nothing. She didn't need to, the nightmares hadn't gone away and she couldn't take sleeping pills because they trapped her in whatever horror her nights brought.

"I'm scared to close my eyes," she whispered.

Donovan kissed her forehead and reached to flip on his lamp.

"Do you remember where we left off?" he asked, sliding into a more upright position.

Carter nodded and snuggled close to him as he picked up the book on the nightstand and opened it.

With one arm wrapped around Carter and her head resting on his chest, Donovan began to read aloud. His voice was smooth and steady eventually helped lull her to sleep.

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BOO! πŸ‘»

(*Falls over laughing* Oh my gosh I scared you so bad, I'm dead!)

Haha I made an awful pun, in apology here's a weird author's note.

First if there are any threats, snappy comebacks or thoughts you like to share then feel free to do so. πŸ—―πŸ’¬πŸ’­

So someone actually wanted this chapter. I don't know why because Carter and Donovan fighting is the most depressing thing ever but there you have it, I gave you what you wanted. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?!?! CAN I GO FREE!?!?!

I told you this was going to be a weird author's note so you can't get mad at me since I did warn you.

Now for something normal. A friend of mine and her husband read to each other. I honestly think this is the cutest thing you could do as a couple. And since Donovan loves reading it made sense that this would be something that they would do.

Wow! How did I end up writing romantic and adorable characters, this doesn't seem right? Is this the Carter that harshly insulted girls and Donovan willingly punched someone? This is so weird, what have they become!

Like the broken record I am I need an agent πŸ‘‰ that means Twitter followers πŸ‘‰ that means I need you πŸ‘‰ my username: _joymoment_

Bubble bubbly boo vote comment follow!

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