“I don’t know what to say,” he breathed into her hair, squeezing the air from her. “Fuck. Just wait for me.”
That was all he needed to say.
“I will.”
Chapter Seventeen
There were so many reasons he dreaded her leaving. For one, once she was gone it meant he would have to face what was waiting for him at the hospital, and he didn’t know if he could take it. For another, he’d be left staring at the happy fucking baby-making couple without her comforting voice of reason at his ear or her calming presence by his side.
Last but most importantly…God, he hadn’t realized just how much he was going to miss her until he watched her friend’s car pull up front, and it hit him like a kick in the gut.
“There they are,” she said quietly, standing from the porch swing where they’d been swaying mostly in silence for over an hour. Without her warmth curled almost protectively against his side, the cold seeped in, but she didn’t let go of his hand as he stood and followed her down the steps. So there was that.
Candace bailed out of the passenger’s seat and rushed forward, hugging him and saying how sorry she was for everything, how she and Brian were there if he needed anything done back home, but he heard it and watched it all through a fog. Brian had already told him that on the phone. Told him to take all the time he needed, and he would still have a job whenever he was ready for it.
Damn, he hated letting him down or leaving him in a bind.
He wanted to ask Macy to stay. At least for a day or two. The impossibility of it didn’t make it any easier to resist. Her friends had already come all this way. She had a life, and he wasn’t a permanent-enough presence in it yet for an interference of that magnitude. Besides, even if by some miracle she didn’t shoot him down cold, it would only be that much worse when she finally did go back. He was getting way too ahead of himself, dumping all this on her. She’d end up running before they even had a fair shot. Hell, he was damn lucky she hadn’t already.
“You are a saint,” Candace was saying, hugging Macy now. That much he knew, and he hoped Macy did too. She was an angel on earth to go through the last twenty-four sleepless hours with him.
“I’m a sleepy saint,” Macy said. Her eyelids drooped a little. He’d thought a couple of times she’d been dozing on the swing. Still, she was beautiful, her skin a little flushed from the chill, her hazel eyes no less clear for the apparent drowsiness.
“I bet. We’ll leave you alone and you can sleep all the way home.”
Samantha came around the front of her SUV. “I brought pillows and a blanket for you, even.”
“Bless you.” The two exchanged a quick hug and Macy asked if she could retrieve her purse from Ghost’s car.
He got it for her, making sure his fingers brushed hers as he handed it over. Her gaze met his, held there and spoke volumes her friends couldn’t hear. There were no words, anyway. Maybe that was part of his fucking problem; he never knew how to say the words to keep someone from leaving him. Macy was different from anyone he’d ever been with, though. She would understand.
Yeah. He’d thought that about Brooke once too, hadn’t he? And she was pregnant with his brother’s kid. In the beginning, he’d even thought it about Raina, who was so much like him on so many levels that surely there was no way they couldn’t work out. Eventually, their explosiveness together had only resulted in their self-destruction.
Don’t think about that shit, man.
There was way more pressing crap to worry about.
“I guess…we’d better get on the road,” Macy said, shouldering the strap of her purse then stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.
“Yeah.” He had to resist licking his lips with his need to kiss her.
“I’d feel bad not saying good-bye to everyone…”
“I’ll tell Steph for you; she understands. As for the others, don’t worry about it. Really.”
“Okay.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”
At his blurted words, her expression seemed to drain. Was that good or bad? He knew she couldn’t stay; he wasn’t that dense. All that mattered was that she would if she were able. When her eyes filled with tears, he decided it must be a good sign. Sam and Candace returned to the car, giving them their privacy.
“Everything is going to work out for the best,” she told him, gently taking his shoulders in her hands. “You have to believe that.”
“I know it will.”
Standing on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, lingering until he was just getting ready to crush her in his arms, throw her over his shoulder and run away with her caveman style—and then she pulled back, stroked his cheek once and turned away. Taking her sugary vanilla scent and her quiet reassurance with her, leaving him to face some harsh, cold realities all on his own.
But that’s the way it had always been. That’s the way he’d preferred it. What was different now?
“I’ll call you,” he said lamely, just in case it wasn’t obvious. He wouldn’t last ten minutes without needing to hear her voice.
“You’d better.”
He opened the back door for her, watched as she got in and buckled up. He told Samantha to drive safe. Macy’s gaze met his as he shut the door; he didn’t break the connection as the car pulled away, even as it drove down the street and he couldn’t actually see her anymore.
Then they turned the corner, and she was gone.
He didn’t go back in Stephanie’s house. There wasn’t anything for him in there right now. He’d be a comfort to his sister and her family once that bastard wasn’t under her roof, but right now, there was little short of a fire that could make him share oxygen with Scott.
Bad enough they had to share DNA. And a face. Macy had asked if he was trying to be different from his brother, and he wasn’t—they’d always been like night and day. They hadn’t shared any of the same interests except in one huge, glaring example…it wasn’t enough to have the same taste in women; no, they had to have the same woman.
Macy had said it all. Fuck him. And fuck Brooke too.
It was too beautiful a day for this much gloom. He made the drive to the hospital on autopilot, bracing himself the whole way. The depressing, all-too-familiar smells inside the building turned his stomach, but he steeled himself and trudged on, knowing that the atmosphere was going to get way more fucking familiar in the next few days, weeks…however long it would be.
God, how he wished things could go back to normal again. For himself, for his nana.
The information desk told him where to find her and soon he stood frozen in the door to her room, practically deaf and blind to the bustle of nurses and white-coats in the ICU. It was all he could do to breathe. She looked so frail, almost nonexistent beneath the blankets except for her cap of white hair and the little points where her feet rested under the blankets. What must’ve been a dozen tubes connected her to this machine and that.
He’d really fucked this up, thrown away his last chance to say good-bye to her, to tell her he loved her and have her hear him.
Dragging a chair to her bedside, he sat heavily and took her thin, tepid hand in his. Was it just yesterday he’d been so stoked to take Macy out on their first real date? It felt like ten years ago. His grandmother would’ve liked her. She also would’ve been able to tell him how to deal with Scott, or if nothing else, she would’ve yanked him in line and told him to quit wasting mental energy on something so worthless. It had broken her heart to see the two of them divided in such a way, but she’d known where to place the blame. Scott hadn’t just hurt Seth, he’d hurt her, he’d hurt all of them. He’d run away like the fucking little weasel coward he was so he wouldn’t have to hear crap from anyone about what a piece of shit he was being.
Hell, maybe Scott had the right idea. Do what you want to do, no matter who you hurt or how much, live your life the way you want and to hell with everyone else. They were all going to end up right where his grandmother was someday, right? Might as well make the most of it, and it seemed to be working out awfully well for that rat bastard. Financially well-off and a baby on the way with the woman who was supposed to be someone else’s wife.
Every time he thought about the nights he and Brooke had lain together and talked about getting married, he wanted to tear walls down with his bare hands, wanted to jump out of his skin because it felt covered in slime from letting himself fall victim to a betrayal like that. It wasn’t so much for what he’d lost—not anymore—but for the fool he’d been. Had she been fucking Scott even then? He didn’t know and he never would. The only minor, infinitesimal satisfaction he had from that entire situation was that he knew he’d been Brooke’s first. Yeah, smoke on that, motherfucker. Not that Scott probably even knew. When was the best time to tell your husband his identical twin brother had popped your cherry? Try never.
The machines beeped and pumped and did whatever they were doing to keep his grandmother alive. At that moment, he was barely hanging in there himself. His mind spun on his current drama to keep from dealing with the reality in front of him.