“My gut says not to let them go. They’re my children.”
“Then don’t,” I said firmly. “Fight for them.”
He nodded, his eyes closing. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“Can you go home and sleep?”
“Maybe later.” His eyes opened. “I heard there was an issue here last night.”
I swallowed hard. What an asshole I was, getting into an altercation with a guest. Mack had enough shit to deal with. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“What happened?”
I took a deep breath and told Mack what had gone down.
“Jesus, Woods.”
I frowned at my feet. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re lucky Sawyer hates that guy, too.”
I looked up, surprised. “He does?”
A hint of a grin was on Mack’s face. “Yeah. Said he’s wanted to shove that pompous dickhead himself plenty of times.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. But that can’t happen again.” Mack’s tone told me he meant it.
“I know. I promise it won’t.”
“Good. That’s what I told Sawyer.”
I pressed my lips together. “Sorry you had to deal with that in the middle of all your family shit.”
He shrugged. “There’s always something. Now tell me about the girl. I hope the rest of your night was better than mine.”
“Uh, yeah. It was good.” My whole body warmed just thinking about it.
“How good?”
I nodded slowly three times. “Really. Fucking. Good.”
He groaned. “I hate you. Get the fuck out of here.”
Smiling, I rose to my feet. “What can I do so that you can go home and get some rest?”
He sighed, sticking the cap on his head again. “Check in with DeSantis. I can’t even think.”
“Will do.” I stood up. “Hey, you hear from Bones this week?”
“Here and there. The photos and whatnot.”
“I’m kinda worried about him.”
Mack frowned. “I’ll see if I can reach him.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll give him a call. Maybe he just needs to talk to one of us.” I made it to the doorway before turning around. “Hey, Mack?”
He looked up at me.
“I’m sorry about all this. I can’t say I know what you’re going through since I never had kids, but I did lose my mom as a teenager, and it sucked.”
His face registered surprise. “I never knew that about you.”
“I never tell anybody. What’s the point?”
“The point is to let someone actually know you, Woods.” His expression turned sardonic. “Then again, who’d want to do that?”
I gave him the finger and took off down the hall, a smile on my face. I even said good morning to Frannie on my way out.
Who the hell was I today?
Twenty-Two
Stella
Didn’t want to wake you, had to get to work.
Wish I could spend the day with you.
I read the note again, feeling heat rush to my face. I missed him already. How was that possible?
Listen. Just because his dick was the first attached to an actual human to give you an orgasm doesn’t mean bells are ringing. Don’t get carried away.
Right.
I left the note on the kitchen counter without writing anything back. Making sure the front door was locked behind me, I walked down the porch steps, across the lawn to Grams’s house, my arms folded over my chest. It was chilly this morning.
Grams’s front door was still unlocked. It was only about seven-thirty, so I was hoping she was still asleep and I’d be able to scoot right up to my room without seeing her. Nobody wants to encounter their grandmother on a Walk of Shame. I entered the house and turned around to silently close the door.
“Well, good morning, dear!”
I whirled about, a hand on my chest. “Oh!”
Grams smiled. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Were you out on a run?” She lifted a cup of coffee to her lips.
“Um, no.” Was she kidding? Self-consciously I tucked my bedhead hair behind my ears. I’d glanced in the bathroom mirror at Ryan’s house, so I knew my mascara was smudged around my eyes and my clothing was terribly wrinkled. When I looked down, I noticed that I’d buttoned my blouse wrong. Crap. There was no way to fix it now.
“Cup of coffee, dear?”
“Oh. Okay. Sure.” What I really wanted was to lie on my bed and stare into space while I thought about last night, but coffee was good too.
Grams turned around and walked toward the kitchen, and I frantically rebuttoned my shirt as I followed her.
“Here you are.” She handed me a cup full of steaming black coffee.
“Thanks.” I sat down at the kitchen table and glanced down. My blouse was still buttoned wrong. Where the hell was my brain?
“Did you have a nice time last night?” Grams asked, sitting across from me. Her eyes lingered on my screwed-up shirt.
I sighed. Oh well. “Yes.”
“How did you like the inn?”
“It’s very nice. The food was wonderful.”
Silence. Grams sipped her coffee and I sipped mine.
“What time do you think you’ll drive back today?” she asked, her tone way too innocent.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, I might stay through the weekend.”
“Oh? I thought you couldn’t stay for the weekend.”
“If it’s okay with you, I will.”
“Why, of course it is. Don’t be silly, darling. You can stay forever if you’d like.”
I smiled. “Can’t stay forever, but maybe a couple more days.”
She reached over and patted my hand. “I’ll take what I can get. Maybe Mr. Woods would like to join us for dinner here tonight?”
“Maybe. I can ask him, if I see him.”
Grams laughed. “Well, why wouldn’t you see him? Aren’t you two an item now?”
An item. I almost laughed. “No, Grams, we’re not. We’re just friends.”
“Friends!” she repeated, like the word was distasteful to her. “I don’t understand. I thought you and he …” She twirled one hand around as if it held a sparkler.
“Yes, well, I know it’s not easy for you to understand, but these days friends sometimes …” I twirled a sparkler. “And it’s just for fun. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh.” She looked troubled. “It’s just that you two seem to like each other so much.”
“We do, Grams. It’s not that.”
“Well, what is it then?” she asked.
“We don’t want the same things.” It was the truth, but saying it out loud took some of the wind out of my sails. Last night had been so magical.
“Such as?”
“Well … I want a family. He doesn’t.”
She flapped a hand. “Oh bother, of course he does. Even if he says he doesn’t.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Grams.”
“You can’t give up just because a fellow plays hard to get, Stella.”
“He’s not playing at anything. We talked very honestly about things last night, and … I understand why he is the way he is. You were right. He does have something eating at him from the inside. But he’s not broken. Wounded, maybe, but not broken.”
“Well, you know what they say about how to heal a wound …” Grams lifted her cup to her wrinkled lips.
I sighed. “Yes. I do. But he might not want to heal that wound, Grams. It’s … deeply rooted in him. In his sense of honor. He guards it, almost protectively.”
“Whatever for?”
I picked up my coffee and sipped, giving it some more thought. “I think maybe because he’s so conflicted about it. He feels shame, but also pride. He wants to be forgiven for things he’s done, but doesn’t think he should be. He questions himself. Is he a good person who did bad things? Or deep down, is he something else?”
Grams clucked her tongue. “I knew men like that. They came home after the war with such tortured souls. So heartbreaking.”
“Then don’t,” I said firmly. “Fight for them.”
He nodded, his eyes closing. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“Can you go home and sleep?”
“Maybe later.” His eyes opened. “I heard there was an issue here last night.”
I swallowed hard. What an asshole I was, getting into an altercation with a guest. Mack had enough shit to deal with. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“What happened?”
I took a deep breath and told Mack what had gone down.
“Jesus, Woods.”
I frowned at my feet. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re lucky Sawyer hates that guy, too.”
I looked up, surprised. “He does?”
A hint of a grin was on Mack’s face. “Yeah. Said he’s wanted to shove that pompous dickhead himself plenty of times.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. But that can’t happen again.” Mack’s tone told me he meant it.
“I know. I promise it won’t.”
“Good. That’s what I told Sawyer.”
I pressed my lips together. “Sorry you had to deal with that in the middle of all your family shit.”
He shrugged. “There’s always something. Now tell me about the girl. I hope the rest of your night was better than mine.”
“Uh, yeah. It was good.” My whole body warmed just thinking about it.
“How good?”
I nodded slowly three times. “Really. Fucking. Good.”
He groaned. “I hate you. Get the fuck out of here.”
Smiling, I rose to my feet. “What can I do so that you can go home and get some rest?”
He sighed, sticking the cap on his head again. “Check in with DeSantis. I can’t even think.”
“Will do.” I stood up. “Hey, you hear from Bones this week?”
“Here and there. The photos and whatnot.”
“I’m kinda worried about him.”
Mack frowned. “I’ll see if I can reach him.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll give him a call. Maybe he just needs to talk to one of us.” I made it to the doorway before turning around. “Hey, Mack?”
He looked up at me.
“I’m sorry about all this. I can’t say I know what you’re going through since I never had kids, but I did lose my mom as a teenager, and it sucked.”
His face registered surprise. “I never knew that about you.”
“I never tell anybody. What’s the point?”
“The point is to let someone actually know you, Woods.” His expression turned sardonic. “Then again, who’d want to do that?”
I gave him the finger and took off down the hall, a smile on my face. I even said good morning to Frannie on my way out.
Who the hell was I today?
Twenty-Two
Stella
Didn’t want to wake you, had to get to work.
Wish I could spend the day with you.
I read the note again, feeling heat rush to my face. I missed him already. How was that possible?
Listen. Just because his dick was the first attached to an actual human to give you an orgasm doesn’t mean bells are ringing. Don’t get carried away.
Right.
I left the note on the kitchen counter without writing anything back. Making sure the front door was locked behind me, I walked down the porch steps, across the lawn to Grams’s house, my arms folded over my chest. It was chilly this morning.
Grams’s front door was still unlocked. It was only about seven-thirty, so I was hoping she was still asleep and I’d be able to scoot right up to my room without seeing her. Nobody wants to encounter their grandmother on a Walk of Shame. I entered the house and turned around to silently close the door.
“Well, good morning, dear!”
I whirled about, a hand on my chest. “Oh!”
Grams smiled. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Were you out on a run?” She lifted a cup of coffee to her lips.
“Um, no.” Was she kidding? Self-consciously I tucked my bedhead hair behind my ears. I’d glanced in the bathroom mirror at Ryan’s house, so I knew my mascara was smudged around my eyes and my clothing was terribly wrinkled. When I looked down, I noticed that I’d buttoned my blouse wrong. Crap. There was no way to fix it now.
“Cup of coffee, dear?”
“Oh. Okay. Sure.” What I really wanted was to lie on my bed and stare into space while I thought about last night, but coffee was good too.
Grams turned around and walked toward the kitchen, and I frantically rebuttoned my shirt as I followed her.
“Here you are.” She handed me a cup full of steaming black coffee.
“Thanks.” I sat down at the kitchen table and glanced down. My blouse was still buttoned wrong. Where the hell was my brain?
“Did you have a nice time last night?” Grams asked, sitting across from me. Her eyes lingered on my screwed-up shirt.
I sighed. Oh well. “Yes.”
“How did you like the inn?”
“It’s very nice. The food was wonderful.”
Silence. Grams sipped her coffee and I sipped mine.
“What time do you think you’ll drive back today?” she asked, her tone way too innocent.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, I might stay through the weekend.”
“Oh? I thought you couldn’t stay for the weekend.”
“If it’s okay with you, I will.”
“Why, of course it is. Don’t be silly, darling. You can stay forever if you’d like.”
I smiled. “Can’t stay forever, but maybe a couple more days.”
She reached over and patted my hand. “I’ll take what I can get. Maybe Mr. Woods would like to join us for dinner here tonight?”
“Maybe. I can ask him, if I see him.”
Grams laughed. “Well, why wouldn’t you see him? Aren’t you two an item now?”
An item. I almost laughed. “No, Grams, we’re not. We’re just friends.”
“Friends!” she repeated, like the word was distasteful to her. “I don’t understand. I thought you and he …” She twirled one hand around as if it held a sparkler.
“Yes, well, I know it’s not easy for you to understand, but these days friends sometimes …” I twirled a sparkler. “And it’s just for fun. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh.” She looked troubled. “It’s just that you two seem to like each other so much.”
“We do, Grams. It’s not that.”
“Well, what is it then?” she asked.
“We don’t want the same things.” It was the truth, but saying it out loud took some of the wind out of my sails. Last night had been so magical.
“Such as?”
“Well … I want a family. He doesn’t.”
She flapped a hand. “Oh bother, of course he does. Even if he says he doesn’t.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Grams.”
“You can’t give up just because a fellow plays hard to get, Stella.”
“He’s not playing at anything. We talked very honestly about things last night, and … I understand why he is the way he is. You were right. He does have something eating at him from the inside. But he’s not broken. Wounded, maybe, but not broken.”
“Well, you know what they say about how to heal a wound …” Grams lifted her cup to her wrinkled lips.
I sighed. “Yes. I do. But he might not want to heal that wound, Grams. It’s … deeply rooted in him. In his sense of honor. He guards it, almost protectively.”
“Whatever for?”
I picked up my coffee and sipped, giving it some more thought. “I think maybe because he’s so conflicted about it. He feels shame, but also pride. He wants to be forgiven for things he’s done, but doesn’t think he should be. He questions himself. Is he a good person who did bad things? Or deep down, is he something else?”
Grams clucked her tongue. “I knew men like that. They came home after the war with such tortured souls. So heartbreaking.”
