Mackenzie was wide awake well before the first rays of sun crept across the horizon. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was just after 3:00 a.m., and considering that he’d had Lily more than once—hell, he’d lost count after she’d pushed him onto his back and slid on top of him—he should have been down for the count for at least a few more hours.
Mac listened to Lily’s slow, easy breaths. It had been a long time since he’d woken up with a woman in his arms, and he kind of liked the way it felt. Lily was warm and soft and just…right.
Her back was to him, that delectable butt pressed into his groin where—hello—Godzilla was already stirring. He’d snaked his arm around her waist, holding her tight for hours, and now that he was awake, he bent forward, inhaling the subtle scent of apples in her hair.
Damn, but Boston smelled good. And it wasn’t that perfume crap that most of the women he dated liked to use. Seriously, if they only knew how much most guys hated that stuff. Who the hell wanted a nose full of heavy perfume when you were getting busy?
But Boston? She was sexy and fresh and…
She murmured something in her sleep and moved her butt against him.
Jesus.
He clenched his teeth together in an effort to hold himself together. His cock was definitely awake—hard and ready to go—and for a moment, he considered slipping inside her from behind, but then he realized his condoms were on the other side of the bed.
Mac wasn’t willing to give up the feel of her against him just yet.
He winced at the thought. Christ, Jake would tell him he was turning into a woman or would called him a pussy—which was ironic, because Jake had pretty much become a pussy the moment he’d sniffed Raine’s skirts and decided to chase after the one thing he wanted more than anything else.
It sure as hell wasn’t Mac’s gig, but he couldn’t fault their happiness. Nope. That whole forever thing wasn’t in the cards for him, but that didn’t mean he begrudged those who were into it, the ones who believed in true love and all that shit.
Mac lay back on his pillow and gazed at the ceiling. To each his own and all that. He might not be into the commitment thing, but neither was Lily, and right now the two of them together was just about perfect.
In fact they were better than perfect if there was such a thing.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the feel of Lily in his bed, but eventually his neck cramped up and he moved gingerly, careful not to wake her.
Mac slid out of bed and took a moment to watch Lily as she slumbered, totally unaware and vulnerable—there was something so sweet about the way she looked. She was still on her side, with one hand beneath the pillow and the other curled under her chin like a child. That long mane of hair was all over the place—tangled beyond belief—and the indent of her waist, the curve of her hip, and the gentle slope at the small of her back was something he’d like to have fucking framed.
He couldn’t help himself.
Mac bent over and kissed a spot at the back of her neck just under her hairline. She shifted slightly and murmured something that he couldn’t understand, but she never woke up. He pulled the covers over her and tucked them under her chin before heading out into the main room of the cottage.
He was restless and wasn’t sure why, because Lord knows he had no energy left. Mac was in shape, he hit the gym hard, but after the intense workout he’d had with Lily, there were places on him that were a little sore.
He chuckled. What a problem to have.
It was a good sore.
After a quick shower, he pulled on an old pair of faded green cargos and padded out to the kitchen where he made a pot of coffee and then sat at the counter where he’d left his laptop. He booted up the thing and stared at the screen absently, leaning back in his chair as he gazed around the empty room. It was quiet—too quiet. Generally, he liked to listen to music while he worked, but he didn’t want to chance waking Lily.
He thought that maybe she should sleep, because he was already planning on round two later. In the meantime, he may as well get some work done. He took a sip of strong, black coffee and got to it.
***
Several hours later, he slid from his chair and rolled his shoulders. With sunlight streaming into the place, there was no way to hide what his last girlfriend would have called “dumpy chic.” Sure the decorators hadn’t been called in since 1995, but Mac kinda liked the orange and green and cedar.
The place looked lived-in and comfortable.
He’d just cracked a few eggs into the skillet and was whistling as he did so—when the hell did he ever whistle?—when he heard a knock at the door. It was just before eight in the morning, and he wasn’t expecting anyone, but Mac turned the heat down and crossed the room. He glanced out at the driveway when he passed by the large windows in the family room and paused.
It was his mother’s car. Huh.
With a quick glance back at the bedroom, he opened the door with a smile, the one he saved for all those times he got caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing—which was kind of ridiculous considering he was thirty-five.
“Hey, Ma…”
But the words died on his lips when he spied his sister standing there and, a few feet behind her, his nephew, Liam.
“I’m so sorry to bother you on a Sunday, Mac.”
He could tell that she was nervous and he knew that didn’t bode well. “It’s alright. What’s up?”
She looked past him. “Um, can we come in?”
Mac hesitated, but Becca didn’t seem to notice, or rather, she chose not to notice, because she pushed past him and beckoned the kid to follow. “Come on, Liam.”
Mac stood aside and waited for his nephew to pass before closing the door behind them. That’s when he noticed Liam’s bag, and he shot a look to his sister.
“What’s going on, Becca?”
She hesitated, her eyes sliding away from his, and that pretty much told him all he needed to know. Whatever was going on couldn’t be good.
“I need Liam to stay here for a few days.”
Liam? What? No.
Mac shook his head and only stopped himself from becoming a total asshole when he realized that his nephew’s eyes were on him. The kid had his hands buried in his front pockets as if he were digging for gold, and if he pushed them down any more, he was going to lose his pants. Something about the way his shoulders were hunched got to Mac, and he glared at his sister.
It was always the kids who got the shit end of the stick.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. What the hell is going on?”
Becca licked her lips and motioned to Liam. “Why don’t you go down and have a look at the dock? Maybe your uncle can take you fishing one afternoon, or—”
“Yeah,” Liam said. “Cuz he’s so excited to have me here.”
Liam pushed past his mother and headed outside, leaving the siblings alone. Mac studied his sister for a few moments before he headed back into the kitchen. What now?
“I could use a coffee if you don’t mind.”
Mac grimaced as he eyed the machine. He could be a total prick and tell her he had none left, or he could be the brother that he knew she needed right now and make her a damn pot of coffee. If Lily hadn’t been in his bedroom, it would have been a no-brainer, but she was and he had no desire to mix his fucked-up family business with what he had going on with Lily. No one should bear witness to the screwed-up situation that he couldn’t manage to escape no matter how hard he tried.
“Sorry, I don’t have cream.”
“Oh,” Becca said. “That’s okay.”
“I don’t have any sugar either.”
She played with the edge of his laptop and shrugged. “That’s fine.”
He could play this game all day but so could Becca. Mac knew when he was done for, so he walked over to his bedroom and closed the door. When he turned back around, his sister was staring at him with big eyes.
“Shit, Mackenzie. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had someone here.”
“There’s no one—”
Becca’s eyebrow shot up. “Then why did you just close the door?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, walking over to the cupboard. He pulled out two mugs and set them aside. “It’s not like it would have stopped you if you had.”
Mackenzie tossed the old grains and got the machine set up before he leaned against the counter. Becca was quiet, fiddling with the cup he’d set out for her, and he knew by the way she was avoiding his eyes that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. The bruise on her cheek was now a lovely shade of yellow, but the swelling had gone down and sometime between yesterday and today she’d tossed the sling her left arm had been in.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, Becs?”
“Promise me you won’t get mad.”
Okay. This wasn’t good.
Mackenzie clenched his teeth together and tried to relax, but his hands fisted at his side as his thoughts turned to his asshole brother-in-law. He knew where this was going. He’d seen it all before.
“I…David called last night, and I need to go and see him.”
“No,” Mac shot back, pushing away from the counter as his anger began to boil. It began to boil hard, and he put some distance between himself and Becca. “Are you kidding me? Jesus Christ, Becs. I thought you had more sense than that.”
“Mac. He’s…it’s just to talk things out.”
Mackenzie rounded the corner of the countertop and glared at his sister. “Let me guess. He loves you and he’s sorry that he beat your face in. He didn’t mean to hurt you and he sure as hell didn’t mean to almost break your arm.”
Becca winced but shoved her chin up at him. “Goddammit, Mac. Keep your voice down. I don’t need your bimbo of the day hearing my business.”
Mac had a moment where he saw red. It was a bright-crimson sheet of anger that washed over him, and he had to physically move away from his sister because he didn’t trust himself.
“What is it that you think you’re going to accomplish by going back to him?”
“Mac, you don’t understand. He’s my husband and he’s—”
“He’s a fucking prick who used you as a punching bag. That’s not a husband. That’s not a father. That’s a coward and a bully, and you deserve a hell of a lot more than someone like that.”
“Mac—”
“Don’t Mac me. He beat you and put you in a goddamn hospital. What the hell do you want me to say? Didn’t you see enough of that when we were kids? How many times did Dad slap the shit out of Mom, and when he got tired of that, he turned to us? How many times did he say he was sorry and that it wouldn’t happen again?”
Her eyes got shiny, as if they were full of tears, but Mackenzie didn’t give a rat’s ass.
“How many times did we go to school when it was a hundred goddamn degrees outside, wearing long-sleeve shirts because we were too embarrassed for our friends to see the bruises on our arms? Or the belt marks on our backs? Ten times? Fifty? One hundred?”
Jesus, Mac was so angry. He clenched and unclenched his fists, eyeing the punching bag he’d installed in the family room.
Becca stood. “David is not our father. He’s not! And I need to see him, Mackenzie. I need to talk to him.”
Mac threw his hands into the air. Gone were all the warm, fuzzy feelings he’d woken with—but he should have known. This here, this brutality was his reality, and he would never get away from it.
He thought of Liam, of the lost and angry look in the kid’s eyes, and he saw himself. He saw the broken kid he’d been, and it filled him with such blinding rage that for a moment he couldn’t see clearly.
He took a step toward his sister, his face black and angry. “How the hell can you do this to your kid? How can you be that goddamn selfish?”
“Mac,” her voice trembled. “Please, listen to me.” She blew out a long breath and wiped at her face. “I need to do this but give me some credit. I’m not Mom, and he’s not Dad. We need to figure some things out and just need a few days. A week or two at the most. Just David and I. I just need to…”
He’d heard that before too.
“You know what? I don’t give a shit.”
And he didn’t. He didn’t want to get involved. What the hell was the point? He could write the ending to this story in his sleep. Mac took a step back and shook his head. If his sister wanted to be that pathetic, well, she could go right ahead. She was an adult, and it was her life.
He glanced out the windows that faced the water and spied Liam standing at the edge of the beach.
“Why’s the kid here? Why can’t he stay with Mom?”
Becca’s bottom lip trembled a bit. “Mom is teaching Bible School all week and well, Liam’s a bit old for it. He…he asked if he could stay with you. He had fun the other night, and I think that he thought you would be okay with him staying for a few days, but obviously I was wrong.”
Something twisted inside Mac, something hard and painful, and he glanced out the window again. He didn’t have time for a kid. Christ, he was in the middle of this big project for Jake, and there was Lily…
Liam tossed a rock out over the water, and it skipped a few times before disappearing beneath the surface. He shoved his hands into his pockets again and hunched his shoulders, head down as he stared at his feet.
It was like looking at himself when he was young.
Mackenzie dragged his eyes back to his sister. He was probably going to regret this—what the hell did he know about kids?
“He can stay,” Mac said. “I’m going to be busy and probably won’t have much time for him but…”
His sister launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his chest in a hug that was hard and desperate. “Thank you, Mac. I knew I could count on you.”
Everything inside him was coiled tight, but after a few seconds, that part of him that still cared loosened up a bit, and he slipped his arms around his sister, holding her, supporting her when the tears started up again.