Mac’s mother had a fresh pot of coffee brewing when he arrived just before seven the next morning. Always an early riser, Lila was dressed for church in a pale pink dress, with biscuits cooling on the counter and her blond hair in curlers. She handed Mac a mug as soon as he walked through the door, and he accepted it, kissing her cheek before settling down to the kitchen table.
“Do you want something to eat, Mackenzie? I can whip you up some eggs if you like.”
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. Had a bowl of cereal before I left the cottage.”
His mother took a sip from her mug, a slight frown on her face. “I don’t know why you’re spending money renting a cottage when there’s plenty of room right here.”
“I’m a big boy, Mom. Been looking after myself for years now. I need my space.”
“But the cost…it’s a waste if you ask me.”
Mackenzie didn’t have to pinch pennies—his job paid him very well—but he knew his mother was used to watching every dime. There wasn’t a time that he didn’t remember when she wasn’t questioning the cost of something.
Do you really need that?
Was it on sale?
Or his favorite.
It might be a little big on you, Mackenzie, but you’ll grow into it.
Mac took a swig of coffee. “Don’t worry about it. Technically I’m here working, so I can write some of it off. Besides, looks as if you’re going to have a full house for the summer.”
His mother nodded but didn’t answer. Mac let a few moments pass before he pressed her.
“How long have you known?”
“Known?” She looked at him in surprise.
“How long have you known that Dave’s been using Becca as a punching bag?”
His mother looked horrified. “What are you talking about? Becca told me that she fell down the stairs.”
Holy. Christ. Was his mother that much in denial?
“Fell down the stairs,” he repeated.
When she didn’t say anything, his voice rose. “Becca fell down the stairs and broke her arm.”
“Her arm’s not broken. It’s just sprained, and don’t you dare raise your voice to me, Mackenzie Draper.”
Mac shook his head but lowered his voice. “She split her lip and somehow managed to end up with a black eye. All of that from a fall down the stairs.”
Again, his mother said nothing.
“Huh, those stairs must have had grabby arms.”
Mac set his coffee mug on the table and rolled his shoulders. He didn’t get this. He didn’t get this one bit. How could his mother be so goddamn blind?
“She came to you in the middle of the night without her husband,” he continued.
His mother’s mouth pursed in that way that she had—that way that told him it didn’t matter what he said, she was looking down a tunnel, and it wasn’t one that he could see. It was a tunnel that led straight to denial.
“Becca told me that she was restless and couldn’t sleep. Said she missed me. Nothing more. David’s busy trying to find a job, so she decided to come for a visit.”
“For the entire summer?” he said, pushing back from the table. “Let me get this straight. You think that Becca would rather be back here because she doesn’t have a life in Iowa? That Liam is jumping up and down to be in Crystal Lake because he has no friends back home in Iowa?”
Mac thought of his buddies and how they had got him through the toughest, darkest times in his life. Liam must be pissed. No wonder the kid seemed so insolent.
His mother slowly got out of her seat and grabbed both of their mugs. She rinsed them in the kitchen sink and then placed them on the drying rack on the counter.
“Becca’s marriage is none of my business, Mackenzie, and it’s certainly none of yours.”
Unbelievable.
His mother would never allow herself to see what was right in front of her because if she did, she’d have to confront her own demons. Her own weaknesses.
And her sins.
Not protecting a child from a maniac like Ben Draper was a sin that he didn’t think he would ever be able to forgive, no matter how much he loved his mother. Loving that bastard more than she loved her own kids was something he would never be able to wrap his head around.
He glanced up at the clock—7:10 and already his mood was black. This had to be some kind of record, even for him. Mac didn’t have time for any of this shit.
He scraped his chair back and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m going to start on the fence.”
Mac spent a few hours sanding and scraping the fence boards so that it was ready for paint and by the time he rolled out the cans and grabbed his brush, the sun was burning hot. He inserted his earbuds and got busy, listening to some old classics from U2 and The Stones as he lost himself in the therapy known as good old-fashioned labor.
He managed to get three sections finished before his sister stepped in front of him, and Mac withdrew the buds, tossing his brush into a can as he turned to Becca.
Her bad eye was now a great shade of puke green, with yellow and purple along for the ride, though on a positive note, the swelling had gone down. She’d pulled her hair up into a clip, and without makeup, she looked young. And sad.
And kind of broken.
“Liam’s changing into some old clothes. I told him to come and help you.”
Mac wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m sure he was real happy to hear that.”
Becca attempted a smile. “It was that or church with Mom.”
“Well now, I guess Uncle Mac beats the gospel on a hot summer day.”
She handed him a bottle of water, and Mac accepted it, taking a long drink and then whipping off his sweat-soaked T-shirt.
“Wow,” Becca said. “When did you get that?” She pointed to his tattoo.
“The week I graduated from college.”
Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t know. What does it mean?”
Mac glanced at the Sanskrit that graced his bicep and was quiet for a few seconds. “It means…don’t look back.”
“Oh,” Becca said softly.
And then, “Oh my God! Is that Cain Black?” She moved so that she was half-hidden behind Mackenzie, her hand tugging on his arm crazily. “Holy shit, I didn’t know he was back in Crystal Lake. Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
“Maybe because he’s married and so are you.” Christ, some things never changed. All of his sisters had gone kooky over the rocker, and they used to fall all over themselves trying to get Cain to notice them whenever he was around.
Mac turned toward the driveway. Big black SUV. Yep. It was Cain.
“Jesus, Becs, you’re going to yank my damn arm out of its socket. He’s a guy. Flesh and blood like the rest of us.”
She let go, and Mac strode over to Cain as he exited his truck, grabbing him up in a guy hug, which basically meant they kinda sorta slapped shoulders and head butted each other. A small head popped up beside him, and Mac messed up the curls of Maggie’s boy, Michael. Last he’d heard, Cain had adopted him. They were one big, happy family now with another on the way. Cain had moved his family back to Crystal Lake a few months ago and, from what Mac understood, planned on recording his band’s next record in his basement.
Cain’s hair was a lot longer these days, but the look was good, and judging from the reaction of his sister, it worked. Dressed in jeans and a plain black T-shirt, the guy seemed relaxed considering he was gonna be a daddy in a few months.
Or weeks? Hell, Mac wasn’t up on all that stuff.
“Jake told me I could find you here,” Cain said.
“This a social call or do you need something?” Mac grinned.
“No. I…” Cain’s wide, easy smile moved past Mac, and Mac had to hand it to him, Cain managed to hide his shock at the sight of his sister.
“Wow! Little Becca?” he said.
“Hi, Cain.”
Mac watched as his sister played with the loose strands of hair that fell out of the clip, drawing them forward as if that was going to hide the damage to her face. Cain didn’t say a word, but Mac caught the question in his eyes.
“You’re all grown up.” Cain cocked his head and grinned. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Becca’s here for the summer with her kid, Liam.”
“Really?” Cain replied. “How old is your boy?”
“Uh, he’s ten.” Becca moved closer to Mac.
“Shit, Becca. You look like you’re barely out of college. How the hell can you have a ten-year-old?”
His sister blushed and glanced away, suddenly embarrassed, and there were a few awkward moments until Cain cleared his throat and tugged on Michael’s arm.
“Well, Becca. This here is my son, Michael, and he will be ten in a week.”
Michael’s smile lit up, and he shoved his hand toward Becca. “Hi,” he said, although he wasn’t as good at hiding his thoughts as Cain was. His face puckered up as he studied Becca, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Cain beat him to the punch.
“Is that your son?”
They all glanced back at the house as Liam hopped down the steps and paused, surprised to find a crowd in the driveway. He got his bearings and sauntered over to them as if he had all the time in the world. Mac watched the kid closely. He saw the attitude. The swagger. And he knew that if he looked closer, he’d probably find the pain.
Damn kid reminded Mackenzie of himself.
“Liam,” Mac said when the boy reached them. “This is one of my oldest buddies, Cain, and his son, Michael.”
“Hey,” Liam said, lifting his chin. He didn’t sound real friendly, but he didn’t exactly sound disinterested either. He was caught somewhere between wanting to know more and not being willing to ask.
“Hey,” Michael answered, shuffling his feet in the dirt.
Mac lifted an eyebrow and tried not to laugh at all the male posturing.
“Liam,” Becca said excitedly, “Cain is the guitarist and singer from BlackRock. Remember I told you? He’s been on the cover of Rolling Stone and he’s played with Bruce Springsteen, and—”
“I don’t know those guys,” Liam said. “But I might have heard of BlackRock.”
“He’s not really a big deal,” Mac said, grinning at the look of horror on his sister’s face.
“That’s exactly what my wife would say,” Cain replied.
“So, what did you need?” Mac asked, glancing back at the fence that wasn’t going to get done unless he got his ass in gear.
“I’ve got a favor to ask,” Cain said.
“Anything.”
Cain laughed. “Don’t you want to hear it first?”
“As long as it’s not illegal, I’m good.”
“Nah. Those days are behind us. I need an assistant coach, and since you’re here for the summer, I thought you could help me out.”
“Coach?”
Cain grinned and ruffled Michael’s russet curls. “Yeah. Baseball coach. Brad Kitchen was helping me out, but he’s got stuff going on and quit last week. Seems as if he’s trying to get back with his wife, but after stepping out all over town with Lori Jonesberg, Cindy is really giving him the gears. Jake suggested you.”
“Did he now?”
Cain nodded. “We have a practice tomorrow night and a game on Friday. So what do you say?”
Mac rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t really have a reason to say no even though the thought of coaching a bunch of ten-year-old boys wasn’t exactly at the top of his list. God, he remembered what ten-year-old boys were like. The maturity gene was still a long way off.
“Um, can Liam…” They both glanced at his sister and she froze. Becca cleared her throat. “Liam loves baseball. Is it too late to add him to the team? He’s Michael’s age.”
Cain shook his head. “We can make it work. What position do you play?” The question was directed at Liam.
The kid shrugged as if he didn’t give a crap, but Mac saw the interest. “I pitch.”
“No way!” Michael said. “My buddy Timmy broke his arm jumping from the dam into the river, and he was our number one pitcher.”
“Dam?” Liam asked.
“No way, mister.” Becca looked stern as she gazed at her son. “The dam is off-limits.”
“You in?” Cain asked.
Mac glanced from his nephew to his sister. The hope in her eyes and the I-don’t-give-a-crap-even-though-I-really-do in Liam’s made up his mind.
“I’ll warn you boys: I mean business when it comes to sports. I’m not a pussy like Mr. Black here.”
Michael laughed and moved past Mackenzie, Liam following him until they stopped a few feet away. He heard Liam ask Michael if the guy with the long hair was really Cain Black, from BlackRock.
Michael nodded, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. He is.”
“Wow,” Liam replied, sneaking a look back.
Michael shrugged. “He’s just like any other dad though. My mom says he pees standing up like the rest of ’em and usually forgets to put the seat down.”
“Nice,” Mackenzie murmured with a smirk.
“Talk to me when you start living with a woman,” Cain said.
“Yeah. That will never happen. Who the hell wants to worry about whether the toilet seat is up or down?”
Cain shot a smile toward Mac’s sister. “Nice to see you again, Becca. I think the boys are going to have a fun summer.” He turned to Mac. “Practice is at six thirty, tomorrow night. See you at the park.”
“Sure,” Mac replied. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. Like get busy with a certain blond who’d pretty much starred in his pornographic dreams the night before.
“Hey,” he said quietly, following Cain to the truck. “You wouldn’t happen to have Lily St. Clare’s number, would you?”
Cain’s eyebrows rose. “You’re really going to go there? Jake will have you by the balls if you screw with that woman.”
“Don’t worry about my balls.”
Cain shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He opened the driver’s door. “I don’t have her on speed dial or anything, but she’s renting Raine’s cottage.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Cain stared at him for a few seconds. “Doesn’t she have something going with on with Blair Hubber?”
“Not anymore.”
“Shit,” Cain murmured. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Michael ran to the truck, and Mac took a step back as Cain maneuvered the large SUV out of the small driveway. With a wave, the rocker pulled onto the street and disappeared from view.
“Who’s Lily?” his sister asked.
“A friend of Jake’s,” he answered absently, his eyes still on the road.
“Sounds like she could be trouble if you ask me.”
He moved past his sister toward the fence and grinned, glancing back at her just before inserting his earbuds.
“I sure as hell hope so.”