Author: L.G. Pace III
Date: 2015-12-18 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Contemporary Romance; Romance
Description: “Kelly Palmer?” I knew the voice immediately, even though I hadn't heard it since I was twelve years old. My mouth went dry, and I almost dropped the phone. A wave of goosebumps rolled across my flesh. “Yes.” I sounded scared, reduced to the child I'd been the last time I'd spoken with the man on the other end of the line. “Hi, darlin’. It’s your dad.” Kelly's world is far from perfect. She keeps several states between herself and her overbearing mother, and she's sick of her friends playing matchmaker. Her naive teaching ambitions haven't panned out, and after years of spinning her wheels in

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Wood U

A Carved Hearts Novel

Copyright © 2015 by L.G. Pace III & Michelle Pace

Cover designer: Robin Harper. Wicked By Design

Formatting by JT Formatting

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To the stupendous readers of Good Wood, Mollywood, and Heartwood, who campaigned hard for a “Mac book”. You earned this one. Here’s the opportunity to get inside Mr. Hildebrandt’s head ... and his pants. Enjoy!

This book is also dedicated to those who needed to know all of Francis’s story. Wood U exists because of your curiosity and enthusiasm.

Adios, Amigos!

Title Page

Chapter One – Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter Two – Party Crasher

Chapter Three – Lone Star State of Mind

Chapter Four – Let’s Get Physical

Chapter Five – Bingo

Chapter Six – My Old Pal Murph

Chapter Seven – Fixes

Chapter Eight – Consequences

Chapter Nine – Damages

Chapter Ten – Urges and Obligations

Chapter Eleven – Taking Sides

Chapter Twelve – I Got You

Chapter Thirteen – Exes and Ohs

Chapter Fourteen – To the Moon and Back

Chapter Fifteen – Taken

Chapter Sixteen – Regrets

Chapter Seventeen – Meet the Parents

Chapter Eighteen – Not Over You

Chapter Nineteen – What The F--?

Chapter Twenty – Promises

Thank You!

About the Author

WHEN THE AUTOMATIC doors of the airport slid open and the warm Texas air slammed into me, a rush of endorphins shot through my veins. After months of being cooped up inside back home, all that sunshine sang to my outdoorsy soul. Though I’d never been to Austin, the sun baked asphalt of the rental car lot outside the terminal felt familiar. Climbing behind the wheel of my rented Challenger, I laughed at the absurdity of my situation.

I’d nearly walked out of the airport a few hours before without boarding the flight. In fact, the only thing that stopped me was my practical streak. I’d already had my personal space violated by a female security officer, and it seemed stupid to waste a perfectly good plane ticket. The elementary school where I taught was on spring break, and I’d had an incredibly rough quarter. Teaching at a high risk school had always been my dream, but after several hostile encounters with unreasonable parents, I was ready to throw in the towel. If it wasn’t for my love for the kids, I’d have transferred long ago.

I hadn’t always been so jaded. Fresh out of college, I sought out a position in a school that needed teachers so badly they offered outrageous sign-on bonuses to anyone who could (or would) complete a full year. I’d always thrived on a good challenge. My favorite students were the ones other teachers gave up on the first day of class: the ones who came to class, not only without their homework, but without so much as a pencil. The kids who gravitated to the back of the room because they still couldn’t read. There was nothing like that moment when the light came on, that breakthrough moment that always came with enough patience and perseverance. I’d never once doubted my decision to go into teaching, but I was starting to question whether I had the stamina to deal with the parents who didn’t want to put in the time.

After four years in Detroit, the honeymoon had officially ended. Our principal retired, and our support system apparently had decided to go fishing along with him. A couple of businesses in town had laid off a considerable portion of their workforce, and said employees just happened to be quite a few of the parents in our district. Tensions at home were high, and the residual effects were reaching the classroom. Going into Christmas break, I’d been personally threatened by no less than two single mothers, who weren’t happy that I’d suggested their children had attention issues. I’m not one to point fingers, but that same evening, someone keyed a foul name into the passenger’s side door of my car.

Then my father called.

My long lost, presumed-dead father.

When I saw that the unfamiliar incoming number, I assumed I was about to be told what a shitty teacher I was for the fourth time in twenty-four hours and that it was all my fault that someone’s little angel was failing. I sighed and hit the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Kelly Palmer?”

I knew the voice immediately, even though I hadn’t heard it since I was twelve years old. My mouth went dry, and I almost dropped the phone. A wave of goosebumps rolled across my flesh.

“Yes.” I sounded scared, reduced to the child I’d been the last time I’d spoken with the man on the other end of the line.

“Hi, darlin’. It’s your dad.”

I’m not sure how long I stood in my kitchen looking out at the snowy parking lot. Long forgotten emotions waged a silent war inside me.

“Hello? You still there?”

“Yes.” My tone was as icy as the drift covering the dumpster below. “I’m here.”

Where are you, dad? Where the hell have you been for the past fourteen years?

These were the things I didn’t say. I could’ve written a multi-volume collection with the things I wanted to say, but I had so many questions that I held my tongue.

“It’s so good to hear your voice.” I could hear the smile in his and was absolutely mystified by it.

“How did you get my number?” I asked, and I sounded far calmer that I should have.

“Your Aunt Susan,” he replied, and I closed my eyes. Of course. My aunt, his sister, still lived in the same house in Chicago and still had a land line. “How’ve you been?”

How’ve I been? Since when? Since I was twelve years old and you went away on a business trip and never came home?

Again, it’s what I wanted to say, but couldn’t. Even though he’d done nothing to earn my respect, he was still my father and how I responded to him said more about me than it would about him.

“Fine. And you?” The surreal nature of our polite small talk blew my mind.

“Better than I have been in a long time. I’m in Austin, Texas. I was hoping we could catch up.” He sounded like he’d called an old high school acquaintance.

“I don’t know.” I hadn’t processed the words before they slipped from my lips. My shoulders were tense, and I wished he had been another unsatisfied parent. “I’ll have to think about that.”

“Kelly…” he started, and I hung up.

It was a full five minutes before my breathing returned to normal. Dazed, I debated about whether to call my mother, but the idea of speaking to both of my parents in the same day was unthinkable. I drove to the gym on autopilot for my spin class and set about losing myself in the sweat and adrenaline. After that, I hit the weights. I tried to forget about the phone call, but the man’s words never entirely left my conscious mind.

“Hi, darlin’. It’s your dad.”

How dare he call me “darlin’”?

How dare he act like he knows me?

The following weekend was Annette’s Texas Hold’em tournament, and I was grateful for the distraction. She and her husband always invited me for these festivities, but I rarely joined them since I wasn’t much of a card player. Sometimes I felt like they’d made it their personal mission to find me a husband, since every time I went to their house it was me and three or four eligible bachelors around the poker table.

Annette had just had a baby boy six weeks before, and she intended to enjoy all twelve weeks of her maternity leave. I missed her a lot. With the exception of a couple other casual shopping buddies, she was the only coworker I truly socialized with.

“When are you going to stop trying to set me up?” I demanded, sipping my drink.

“When are you going to settle down so that our kids can have playdates and we can take cruises to Belize together?” She responded.

“When I meet the right guy, I guess.” I replied.

“So when hell freezes over is what you’re telling me.” She mumbled. “Super.”

I smirked, but it stung a bit. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Annette.”

“Where are you going to meet this Mr. Perfect?” Her tone was incredulous. “At the gym?”

She knew she’d clipped me good with her comment. The guys who went to my gym tended to be serious body-builder types and were not much for clever conversation. It hadn’t stopped me from bringing a few of them back to my place, but it was usually a one-time thing. Since I wasn’t a one-nighter type of girl at heart, this pattern of mine didn’t lend itself to a fairy tale ending.

“My dad called.” I said, thinking a subject change was in order.

Annette spit her soda all over her blouse, and when she rushed into her room to change, I followed her.

“Warn a bitch before you say stuff like that.” She grumbled, pulling off her soda-laden shirt and searching around for another. “I thought he was dead.”

“Join the club,” I replied. “He wants to ‘catch up’.”

“I imagine so,” she said in her usual snarky manner. “So what are you going to do?”

Just as she said the words, her husband swung the bedroom door open. She was still standing topless, in her nursing bra.

‘Whoa!” he said, looking from her to me, pure wonder on his face. “Whatever’s going on in here, don’t stop on my account.”

Annette and I both laughed, and she threw a pillow at him.

“In your dreams, babe. Now go make the damn chili dip like I asked.” As he ducked the pillow and vanished back out of the room, she turned to me. “I think you should meet with him, Kelly. Make him look you in the eye and explain himself. If not for him, do it for you.”

After a couple of days and sleepless nights, I called him back. I’d just watched It’s a Wonderful Life alone in my shitty little apartment, and the guilt of hanging up on him was eating at me. He spoke with unabashed enthusiasm, and though we didn’t talk long, he hinted at how much he’d like me to come visit him. I told him I’d think it over and wished him a Merry Christmas.

Over the remainder of winter break, I studied up on Austin enough to learn that it would be a great place to vacation. The city was a cultural mecca, and all the outlets for someone with my active lifestyle were very tantalizing.

But more than anything, I needed to see my dad. Annette had been right. I needed to look him in the face when I said all of the things I’d been holding in for so many years. By the time spring break rolled around, I’d worked myself up to give him a piece of my mind and to drill him for the answers I so richly deserved. I owed it my mom, and I owed it to myself to go.

Once I got to the airport, though, my tough girl act failed me the moment they started calling for my flight. Somehow I managed to get to the gate. I told myself that if I still felt uncomfortable once I got there, I’d go on about my trip without ever even seeing Francis Palmer. I could still kayak on Lady Bird Lake, do a little shopping at The Domain, eat barbecue at Franklin’s and wash it all down with a Texas martini. I’d fly back home and call it a vacation. It was petulant, but giving myself an out had always been an important part of my denial process.

A few hours later as I climbed behind the wheel of my rental car, I was faced with a decision: come all this way and ignore the elephant in the room or do myself the favor of facing him head-on as originally planned. As I started the car and blasted the air conditioning, I nodded decisively. I was going to Dad’s. It would be my first stop. I figured it would be like having my ears pierced or losing my virginity. Far more startling than it was painful and much briefer than I expected.

Just get it over with, Kelly. If it’s too awkward, you can just say you’re tired and need to go back to the hotel.

Cursing aloud, I plugged his address into my cellphone and cautiously made my way into the rush of cars. As I fought traffic, I was able to catch a few glimpses of the city my father now called home.

Austin wasn’t what I expected at all. I had a picture in my head of Texas, and it largely consisted of tumbleweeds and cacti. Even from the interstate I could see that my mind had manufactured inaccurate assumptions. The urban sprawl was balanced with rolling hills, and hearty green trees monopolized the landscape. The sunny weather continued to improve my mood, and I’d taken pleasure in ditching my winter coat into the trunk of my rental the second I’d arrived.

As I crossed Lamar Blvd. Bridge, I released a shaky exhale. The closer I drew to my destination, the more my eye twitched, and the more agitated I felt. What the hell was I thinking? What was I going to say to this stranger with my father’s face?

Where were you when mom was worrying about putting food on the table?

Why did you leave me without a goodbye?

Why didn’t you send money to keep the bank from evicting us?

By the time I had pulled up and parked in front of the small store front, I remembered why I’d hung up on him the first time he called. I stared blankly at the GPS app on my phone and glanced up at the storefront before me. Maybe I’d reversed the numbers, I thought, and I caught a glimpse of someone turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ in the window. With an exasperated sigh, I hopped out and hurried to the alcove, where the door to the business was opening.

“You’re too late. I’m fixin’ to close, and I already have my key in the lock,” the man in the doorway declared. His back was to me, and his tone was non-negotiable. I bit back a giggle at the term fixin’ (which totally fit my previous image of Texas), but I couldn’t help but admire how broad his shoulders were and how perfect his ass looked in his fitted Levi’s.

“That’s fine; I’m not here to shop. I’m lost. I was hoping you could tell me where I went wrong.” I rifled through my purse until I found the original slip of paper from my phone conversation with my dad. Finally, I located it, crumpled up in the bottom under my wallet. Smiling triumphantly, I looked up, waving the ripped piece of notebook paper proudly. What I saw floored me.

I’d accidentally locked gazes with the most attractive man I’d ever seen. His gentle eyes were as blue as the cloudless sky above us, and his dark, disheveled hair and full beard were peppered with some sort of debris that I realized a second later was sawdust. I’m sure I looked like a slack-jawed idiot, because he flashed me a heartbreaking smile that crinkled his bedroom eyes at the corners.

“I’d be glad to help you anyway I can, Sugar,” he replied, and I swear his deep voice was as sexy as the rest of him. My insides did backflips, and the complication of his presence did nothing for my frayed nerves. I shoved the paper at him hurriedly.

He held it up, his eyes narrowing for a better look, while my traitorous eyes scanned his bulging biceps and the definition of his chest beneath the soft cotton of his soiled blue t-shirt.

“Francis? Hell, he lives right upstairs. The apartment on the left.” His gaze fell on me again. Those eyes, framed with their dark coal lashes, seemed to reassess me, more thoughtfully than before. I wondered how he knew my father, and worse, if he’d hold it against me when he found out we were related.

“Thank you so much.” I smiled, my voice squeaky to my own ears. The way this man towered over me really got my juices flowing, and I wasn’t prepared for this unexpected surge of hormonal frustration on top of my already frazzled nerves. I hurried past him toward the staircase and quickly ascended to the landing at the top. Had it not been for the fact that I could feel his gaze on my ass, I may not have mustered the fortitude to knock on the apartment door. I spared a glance in his direction, and the sight of him straddling his motorcycle was so alluring that I wasn’t prepared when the door in front of me swung open.

My father stood before me, and seeing his familiar smile instantly brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t believe it, since I was sure I was all cried out over him long ago. His deeply lined face and frail form made it obvious that he’d lived a hard decade-plus without Mom and me. He was emaciated, deeply tanned, and barely resembled the larger-than-life father that I remembered. When he smiled at me, though, flashes of the happy girl I once was defrosted my frozen heart just a tiny smidge.

He enveloped me in a tight embrace before I had a chance to protest. Disturbed, I endured his unexpected display, half pissed-off, half heartbroken. Oblivious to or ignoring my discomfort, he ushered me inside, and I was surprised by how nice his place was as well as how few possessions he seemed to own.

“I was about to have some sweet tea. Would you like some?” He asked as turned toward his refrigerator. His raspy voice brought back wisps of all the wrong kinds of memories. How he cheered when he finally taught me how to ride without training wheels...his laugh as he twirled my mom around in the kitchen to some old country song she had on the radio. I choked back a gasp at the vivid recollections that escaped from the back of my mind like a genie released from a long-forgotten lantern.

“Sure.” I instantly hated myself for the eagerness I heard in my own voice. I was terribly eager to be in his company after so many years of wondering and speculating. I trembled with excitement, and I couldn’t believe my response to this man. I’d cursed him so many nights as I lay awake listening to my mother cry herself to sleep through the thin walls of our apartment. The run-down little place we were forced to resort to, when the money ran out and it was clear he wasn’t coming back.

The ugly memories of my mom were far more visceral than the earlier Leave It To Beaver perfection that I was surely remembering wrong. Guilt consumed me as I thought about Mom and how I hadn’t yet told her that I’d heard from Francis, let alone that I was traveling to see him. When he moved forward to pull out a chair for me to sit on, I bristled. Though I caught a glimpse of surprise on his face, he ignored my reaction and conjured his winning smile.

You’ve come this far, Kelly. At least hear what the man has to say.

“How was your flight?” he asked, as if we were sitting down to a business luncheon. Small talk. Now, that I could do.

We chitchatted about the airline, and I mentioned how I’d splurged for a direct flight. Since I lived on a teacher’s salary, I debated every expenditure. But in this case, I quickly decided it was a no-brainer. Every connecting flight was an opportunity for me to change my mind and chicken out.

We hopped from topic to topic, all of which were obvious icebreakers until he finally asked about my job. I spent less than an hour catching him up on what I’d been doing since he left to woo a client and failed to return. I hit the highlights: college in Boulder, moving to Detroit to take my first teaching job. I trailed off, realizing I couldn’t dive any deeper into my past without bringing mom into the conversation or the fallout of his decision to leave us. I could tell by his wrinkled brow that he’d realized my predicament. He used the lull in the conversation to refill my tea, launching into a spiel about his new job, working in the shop below as the head of sales for a custom woodworking and furniture business. When he told me the outlandish name of the place, I couldn’t contain my laughter.

“Good Wood?” I snorted, shaking my head. I’d been so nervous about our reunion that I hadn’t even bothered to read the sign above the store. “You’ve got to be joking. Is the owner nuts?”

“Nope,” Dad said, his eyes twinkling in a way that reminded me of long-forgotten weekend mornings. “No more than the rest of us. You have to admit it’s a pretty memorable name.”

“I’ll say.” I responded. An awkward silence descended upon us once more. Thankfully, there was a knock on the door.

When my father answered it, I took in the beautiful woman in the doorway with surprise. Her bright red lips and retro hair gave her a pin-up girl quality. She was holding a giant basket overflowing with delicious scented treats, and the red scarf tied in her hair made her look like a punk rock Red Ridinghood. I eyed her impressive collection of forearm tattoos that reached the fingers of her left hand, while she beamed at me as if I were her long lost best friend. She radiated warmth, and I found myself smiling back in delight.

“You must be Francis’ daughter,” she gushed, and though the title felt a little awkward, I brushed the comment aside.

“I’m Kelly.” I stood as if to shake her hand, and she came in for a half hug as she thrust the basket of fat laden sugar at me.

“Molly. I live across the hall,” she explained, and I had no choice but to accept the cornucopia of baked goods. Against my better judgement, I pulled out a brownie with white fluffy frosting and bit into it. If there was a buffet in heaven, this is what they’d served there.

“What are y’all doing for dinner tomorrow night?” She asked, her blue eyes flitting from me to Francis and then back again.

“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Francis replied cautiously, and Molly’s blush matched the scarf in her hair.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry! Y’all are trying to catch up, and I’m intruding.” She had just a hint of a Texan accent, which I’d come to appreciate downstairs in my interactions with the sawdust-covered biker. I decided I loved the sound of it. “Mac texted me that Kelly was here, and I was dying to meet her!”

“You’re fine, Molly.” My father wore a kind smile, but I noticed he didn’t invite her in.

“You two have a lovely visit,” Molly said, without missing a beat. “If you’re free tomorrow, come over and have dinner. We’re grillin’ since the weather’s supposed to be so nice.”

“If everything you cook is this good, you have yourself a date.” I replied, resisting the urge to lick my fingers free of the last crumbs of her sweet concoction.

As Dad closed the door behind Molly, I grinned. “She’s a perky one.”

My father just huffed out a laugh, an approving smile splitting his face.

“Molly’s never met a stranger. She simply won’t allow it,” he claimed, and I could tell he was fond of her. A pang of jealousy hit me, and I blinked in surprise that I’d have such a negative reaction to something so pleasant and benign.

“Who’s Mac?” I asked, moving to his sink to wash my hands. I was ready to move forward with more small talk.

“What?” A crease appeared between his eyebrows.

“Just wondering who could know I was here,” I replied. Understanding dawned on his weathered face.

“Her brother. He works with me downstairs,” he answered, holding out the basket of Molly’s baked goods to me. I shook my head as I dried my hands, and he set it aside.

“Rides a Harley?” I asked. I thought back to those dreamy blue eyes and over-the-top good looks. The family resemblance was there.

“That’s him.” Dad replied, eyeing me with a hint of suspicion. I realized I’d been twirling a strand of my hair and dropped it.

“What’s he do? Does he drive a delivery van or something?” I tried to sound casual as I picked up my cup. I figured this Mac fellow moved furniture or maybe was the janitor. I imagined what he’d look like lifting something heavy and the vivid mental image was staggering.

Francis laughed. “No. He a carpenter. He can make anything out of old scrap people toss in a dumpster.”

“He’s seems like a charmer.” I sniffed. I didn’t miss the concerned look that crossed my father’s face.

“He’s a bit of a lady’s man,” he responded, and the cautionary subtext in his tone wasn’t lost on me.

I felt my cheeks flush, more in anger at his presumptive offering of fatherly advice, than in embarrassment. It must have shown in my expression because he dropped his gaze. “You’re right. It’s not my place. I’m sorry.”

His simple admission took me off guard, and I sat back in my chair and glanced at my phone.

“Well, it’s three. I need to check into my hotel.”

He frowned. “I told you I have a spare room.”

I inhaled deeply. I’m not a fan of confrontation, and I felt an awkward conversation coming on.

“That’s too much, too soon.” I responded, and to my surprise, he was nodding his head.

He smiled in a conciliatory manner. “But I hate to have you spend so much on this trip just to see me,” he said.

“I need to make this clear, Francis.” I saw him blanch when I called him by his first name, but he had yet to earn the title of “Dad” again. I could feel the tension in my jaw, but I needed to set him straight. “I’m doing this trip for me, not you.”

“I understand,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you came down here. I’d almost given up hope of ever seeing you again.” The anguish in his voice tugged at the heart of the little girl in me. Pushing her back into the past where she belonged, I took a deep breath before answering.

“To be honest? I almost didn’t come.” I sighed and looked at the ceiling, running both of my hands through my hair. “I still don’t know what I’m doing here.”

An expression of pain flashed across his face. And when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. We sat in silence as I tried to sort through the conflicting emotions running through me. He waited patiently until I decided what I wanted to say.

“Why did you leave me?” The question came out in a tight, squeaky voice that I barely recognized. My throat felt like sandpaper rubbing on jagged glass as I pushed the words out of my mouth. I forced myself to look at him and saw tears welling in his eyes. I felt the start of some in mine, so I looked down at my hands and furiously blinked them back.

“Oh, honey,” he said. The tone he used held a depth of feeling I had never suspected would be there. The slight quaver in his words told me he was either an accomplished bullshit artist, or he did have feelings for me. “I never meant to leave you.”

His statement slammed into me like a freight train, and I felt my walls return. I snorted, pushing the pain away.

“Did you get lost?” He flinched, and I wanted to take the words back. I could see that he was trying, but damned if I was going to make this easy for him.

“I deserve that. That and so much more. I wondered every day since I’ve been sober if contacting you was the right thing to do. In the end, I decided that you deserved to hear from me, if only so you could tell me off.” The guileless way that he said it, so matter of fact that he could have been telling me to squash a bug, put me off balance.

I sat back and folded my arms. “I think I deserve an explanation.”

He sighed and shook his head. “This isn’t how I hoped this would go.”

I blinked in surprise. “I’m so sorry to disappoint.”

“Kelly…”

“What do you want from me?” The words fell from my lips without me having a chance to think about them. “Why did you want to see me? So that I could scream at you and then you could feel absolved of your guilt because I grew up and became a bitch?”

“Hon…,” he paused. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t expect anything from you. I wanted to let you know where I was. There’s no defense for what I did, no explanation that matters. If you walked out that door right now and never wanted to see me again, I would understand. I hope you will stay. I would really like the chance to try and mend things between us.”

I won’t say I wasn’t tempted to bolt, right then and there. I don’t think anyone has ever been given a better setup to storm out of another person’s life than I was that day.

Instead, I stopped long enough to deliver this precious exit line: “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have the one man that’s supposed to love you unconditionally just walk away?”

His stricken expression didn’t satisfy me; it just made me feel worse.

“I’m going to go check into my hotel.”

As I dressed the following morning, I realized I wasn’t quite ready for Round Two of the Palmer Family Reunion. I had a lot of things I needed to say, and now that we’d broken the ice, I needed to gather my thoughts a bit. I turned on my laptop and the first site I had bookmarked for the trip was The Austin Country Flea Market. Since it was Saturday and the website said they were open year-round, I hopped in my sporty rental car.

Saturday morning traffic was much lighter than what I’d waded through the day before, and I was able to relax and take in the colorful sights of the city. Austin was full of murals, and it seemed shop owners took every opportunity to display funky art and neon.

The landscape was surprisingly hilly, and parts of town reminded me of a scaled down version of San Francisco. Craggy rock walls jutted from between green trees, which really added to the beauty of the city. I should have expected this, since Austin was smack dab in the center of what Texas aptly named “Hill Country”, but the added bonus of this scenery to my vacation was a delightful surprise.

I was trying on pair, after pair, of used cowboy boots and contemplating which of my outfits I’d have to throw out to fit them into my suitcase, when I spotted a nearby stand selling Christmas ornaments. My mother collected them, and I figured I’d go pick one out for her while I debated about whether I wanted cowboy boots in pink or something a bit more traditional.

The ornaments were all handmade, and when I spotted one shaped like an apple, I reached out for it. Someone else grabbed it at the same time, and I turned to the woman and smiled.

“Great minds.” I chirped, releasing the ornament. The woman, who was an adorable redhead with oodles of freckles, thrust it at me with a grin.

“No! You had it first.” She argued.

“I’ve got another.” The woman behind the table announced and handed a nearly identical ornament to the woman.

“Yay! I wasn’t going to say anything, but I would have been heartbroken. I was gonna hang it on the tree in my classroom.” The impish dimples that appeared when she smiled endeared her to me.

“You’re a teacher?” I laughed. “Me too.”

“Cool.” Her wide-set green eyes lit up. “I’m Jerry.”

“Kelly.”

As we both paid for our purchases, we exchanged information about the grades we taught. When she asked which school I was at, I explained I was not from Texas.

“Oh, honey.” She laughed, stuffing her wallet back into her bling covered purse. “Everyone from Texas is from someplace else. I knew right away you weren’t native.”

“How?” I asked, truly baffled.

“Your accent,” she responded with a shake of her short red bob. “You remind me of home. I only moved down from Ohio three years ago. I came for Austin City Limits with a couple of my sorority sisters. My first day in town a hot guy in a cowboy hat held the door for me and called me ma’am. I was hooked.”

Jerry wandered along with me back to the cowboy boot vendor and advised me to invest in the distressed brown leather boots.

“They’ll go with everything,” she explained, and I couldn’t fault that logic. As I paid for the boots, my stomach growled, and I remembered that I’d skipped breakfast at the hotel.

“I’m starving,” I confessed.

“Come try a kolache,” Jerry insisted, leading me to the collection of food vendors nearby.

We continued our conversation over arguably the most bizarre and awesome breakfast of my life. What Texans refer to as kolaches, were like a fancy pig in a blanket. We washed them down with Dr Peppers, and I felt the guilt set in almost immediately.

“That was so good, but so bad for me!” My hand went to my mid-section, as if I could will the calories away. “I’m supposed to be training! Now I’m going to have to spend the rest of the day swimming laps in my hotel.”

“I’m going biking this afternoon. You should come along. You won’t believe the trails we have here.”

“I don’t want to intrude…” But I really did. I already felt like I’d known Jerry forever, and I was thrilled at the idea of having a local tour guide with no ties to my father.

We exchanged numbers, and she told me she knew a place near the trails where I could rent a bike. I was so excited on the way back to my hotel that I didn’t even think about my dad until his number popped up on my phone as a missed call.

“Shit,” I muttered, and I waged a private battle about whether to call him back before or after my biking excursion. As I parked the car, I decided my strategy would be to deal with the bad before getting on with the good. I dialed his number.

“Hello, darlin.” His familiar greeting twisted the knife a bit deeper.

“Hi,” I replied. He paused, as if waiting for me to continue the conversation. “I saw I missed your call…”

“Yes. Molly stopped by on her way out to the store. She wondered if we’d decided on dinner.”

The corner of my mouth lifted as I considered. Easing Francis back into my life might be easier in a group setting. There’d certainly be less pressure with a buffer like Molly around.

“Sounds like fun,” I heard myself say. “Ask her if I can bring a bottle of wine.”

I heard him laugh as clearly as if he was sitting next to me. “You’d be better off bringing beer.”

MY LITTLE SISTER Molly could turn raw shoe leather into a meal to die for. That comes from growing up with a father who was one of the all-time great barbecue pit-masters. I normally have a standing invitation to Molly’s and Joe’s regardless of who’s going to be there. So when Joe said they were having Kelly and Francis over, I thought my reaction was pretty suave.

“Y’all got room for one more?” Joe stopped dead, doing one of those slow turns, normally reserved for horror villains in the movies. The look of maniacal glee that appeared on his face made it clear to me that he’d seen right through my clumsy attempt at subtlety.

Joe looked at the ceiling, making a big show of considering my question. “Well…Molly did say that she wanted to keep it simple. I’m not sure if she made enough food for more than four people.”

My face flushed, and I glared at the jackass. “When, in the history of the world, has Molly ever made too little? Your fridge is a forest of Tupperware!”

Joe kept his face turned away from me for a second, and when he turned back he had that annoying, shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m just busting your balls, Mac. You know you’re always welcome. Maybe Molly can put in a few good words with Kelly for ya.” He waggled his eyebrows like some old vaudeville comedian. I resisted the urge to slug him and turned to look out of the front window of the shop.

“Molly couldn’t think up a good word about me if someone paid her million dollars to do so,” I said irritably. I could feel him watching me as I pretended to sort through tools. A few minutes later, he took the hint and went back upstairs. I figured his half-assed invite was good enough for me. It was worth putting up with a bit of Joe’s razzing for a chance to roll up on the hot number I’d met out front yesterday. It’s not often that a woman makes a big impression on me, but when I turned around and saw her, she damn near stopped my clock. That long hair framing those beautiful eyes got to me. It begged to be tugged on. Her jeans hugged her tight body, and the words “Life Is Good” were emblazoned across her perky breasts.

Hell yeah, life is good. I can think of one thing that would make it even fucking better.

I knew she’d only be around for a few days, and it’d be a shame not to give her a proper Texas welcome before she split town.

I smelled like a dead animal, so I ran home for a shower before heading back to their apartment. Molly was banging around in the kitchen with her back to me as I came in. Joe was sitting over on the couch with Francis, where they were gabbing like a couple of hens. The old man gave me a bit of the stink eye when he saw me, so I headed in to talk to Molly. She turned with a pot in her hands and almost dropped it in surprise when she saw me.

“Mac? What the hell are you doing here?” I tried not to wince at the question. She said it loud enough that I had no doubt that Francis heard. My suspicion was verified a second later when I heard a chuckle from Joe.

“What,” I asked as nonchalantly as I could, “a brother can’t just stop by to have dinner with his sister?”

Molly scowled at me, before understanding dawned on her face.

“For fuck’s sake.” Molly dropped her voice to a whisper, brandishing her chopping knife at me. “She’s here to mend fences with Francis, and you’re trying to bird-dog her? Can you not act with your dick this one time?”

I glanced back over my shoulder, but Francis and Joe seemed oblivious to us. They were in the middle of a conversation about advertising for another employee and whether they should put an ad on Monster.com.

“Look, Short Shit…” I said, popping the lid off the beer I had snagged from the fridge. “She seems cool. I don’t see the harm in asking if she is interested in me showing her around town. In fact, it would be downright unfriendly not to offer such a nice girl a personal tour.”

Molly looked like she had just smelled something rancid and mimed vomiting in the sink. She looked like Betty Boop would if someone had penciled tattoos all over her, and pissing her off was one of my favorite pastimes. When she got angry, she was about as threatening as a freshly hatched chick.

“Ugh! Shut up, Mac. I don’t need to picture your skeevy ass trying to get on anyone, much less that poor girl. Why don’t you just get a gold chain and a crushed red velvet suit?”

“Mind your business, kid.” I hip checked her. “Watch and learn.”

She glowered at me, pausing in her chopping in a way that made me slightly fearful for my life. “I swear, if you make Kelly feel uncomfortable about being here tonight—”

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman, Molly.” I raised my hands in mock surrender. “You have my word.”

Molly shook her head, but the frown left her face, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to kick me out. Grabbing another beer out of the fridge, I popped it open and handed it to her. I hung out with her in the kitchen until there was a knock on the door. Joe went and answered it, and my brother, Mason, and his wife, Robin, walked in. Looking over at Molly, I raised an eyebrow. “So, what? I’m the only one who didn’t get an invite?”

Molly shrugged and never stopped mixing her signature coleslaw.

“I figured having a few, non-horndog types here for dinner might make it a more welcoming environment for Kelly. And for Francis. From what I understand, they’re having trouble reconnecting. There’s a lot of ugly to sort through between them.” The pointed way she said this made it clear that she knew a lot more than she was willing to share. Not surprising. Molly had a way of wheedling her way right up inside people’s defenses.

Mason joined Joe and Francis in the living room, while Robin came into the kitchen. She gave me a curious stare and bumped my shoulder with hers.

“Hey there, Mac, fancy meeting you here. I figured you would be out on Sixth Street showing the young bucks how it’s done.”

Molly cocked an irritated eyebrow and shook her head. “Make no mistake, Robin. He isn’t taking a day off of his prowlin’. He just figured it was easier to shoot fish in a barrel.”

Robin looked from Molly to me and then shook her head with an amused grin. “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky victim?”

“Francis’s daughter, Kelly.” Molly gave Robin a knowing side glance. “The poor girl came to Texas to see her father, and Mac’s trying to give her ‘the bonus package’.”

I shot her a deadly glare, knowing they were about to double-team me.

Robin laughed. “Well, I guess you can’t blame a hound dog for wanting to hunt.”

“Y’all are hateful,” I stated. Having had enough, I left the two of them in the kitchen to chatter and took a beer out to my twin brother, Mason. He accepted it with a grateful smile and clinked bottles with me.

“How the hell do you do it?” I asked.

“What?” He tipped back his cowboy hat. “Wake up an awesome, sexy beast?”

“No. That’s understandable. We have the same genes. I mean how do you stay married?” I asked, my snark purposeful. “Especially to that mouthy broad?”

My brother smirked, and I’d seen his expression a million times in the mirror.

“I say ‘Yes, Dear’ a lot,” he replied.

By the time Kelly showed up, I was feeling a lot more relaxed about the entire evening. Could probably have something to do with the three beers I’d downed. She was even better looking than I remembered, all long dark hair and lean muscle. Mason’s eyes bugged out when he saw her, and she did a double take from him to me and back again. I thought Robin was going to stab Mason with a fork when Francis introduced him to Kelly and he got all tongue tied. Molly stepped in and introduced Joe and Robin, and Kelly’s gentle smile and wide, innocent eyes seemed to soothe Robin’s ire.

Kelly had brought a twelve-pack of Budweiser along, which I relieved her of during introductions. It was a good call on her part because we were already running a little low on adult beverages. Robin took the beer from me and led Kelly back into the kitchen with her. Mason leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“Holy shit, dude,” he blurted, and I shushed him. He continued much more quietly. “No offense to Francis, but her mom must have been a Playboy Centerfold.”

Robin returned to the living room with several cans of cold beer. She handed one to Mason and one to me.

“Francis, would you like one?” Robin asked. Francis smiled and shook his head.

“No, thank you, dear. I’m four months sober as of today. I’m fine with my sweet tea.” Robin’s smile froze on her face, and then her hand went to her mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Robin looked like she wanted to sink into the floor.

Awkward. Even more awkward since it was his daughter who had brought the booze.

I looked for Kelly and noticed she’d re-entered the room just in time to hear the exchange. Her expression was guarded, but she popped the top on her beer-can right on the heels of his comment.

Francis ignored this, and he rose, crossed to Robin, and patted her arm. “That’s quite all right. The world is full of alcohol, and people are going to drink it. Believe me, I’ve had more than my share. But I do need some more tea if you don’t mind.”

His glass was still half full, and it was an obvious ploy to either vacate the viper pit or smooth things over. Robin nodded gratefully and took his glass, retreating to the kitchen for a refill.

“I understand you two have already met,” Francis said to Kelly, nodding in my direction. His tone wasn’t typical Francis. He was normally very jovial, but tonight he sounded level and calculating.

“Not officially,” Kelly replied, tucking a strand of her long wavy hair behind her ear as she crossed to shake my hand.

“Mac Hildebrandt.” I clasped her tiny hand in mine, and she batted her eyelashes at me shyly.

Nice.

“Kelly. Palmer.” Her sweet voice made her sound like a schoolgirl. I wish I could say it was a turn off, but I’d be full of shit if I did. “You look different when you’re not covered in sawdust.”

Robin had distracted Francis by handing him his tea, so I leaned in a little.

“You look good enough to eat,” I whispered. Her cheeks flashed red, and somehow it made her look even sexier.

“If y’all want to, you can make up your plates. I thought we’d eat up on the roof, since it’s so nice out tonight,” Molly announced.

I let the rest of them file into the kitchen and stayed behind to talk to Kelly. She hadn’t released my hand immediately and when she realized this she blushed even deeper. The effect was so damned adorable, I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from saying so.

“So, how are you liking Austin so far?” I asked.

“I love it! It’s so different than what I expected,” she said enthusiastically.

She talked about all the things she’d seen and done in the past twenty-four hours. I enjoyed listening to her accent which made her sound like a hot weather girl. Hearing she was outdoorsy made her even more attractive to me, but I had a little trouble focusing on some of what she was saying. She was talking so fast, it made her a bit breathless. I liked the way her chest heaved when she was excited. I decided right then and there I would like to see her out of breath again. And again.

We talked the entire time we were fixing our plates and when we headed up to the roof, I let her go ahead of me, as any gentleman should. Plus, her ass was a work of art, and I got to inspect it up close all the way up the stairs.

Priceless.

“Oh my God!” Kelly gasped. I hurried topside to see what made her react so dramatically. Once I stepped out into the night air, I understood immediately. Joe had talked about fixing up a pergola for Molly since she missed her patio back in Seattle. It was my first time seeing his masterpiece, and I have to admit, the man’s a genius.

The seating looked like something out of a Japanese garden, and Molly had strung white lights and added bunting and bright cushions. Their rooftop was like a spa at a five-star resort… a tiny oasis in the middle of downtown.

“This is amazing,” Kelly was saying. Her earnest doe eyes looked to me for confirmation. I realized a man could get lost in those eyes very easily. As if she read my mind, her smile broadened, lighting up the night around us.

Molly made a big point of sitting Kelly between Francis and herself, banishing me down to the far end of the table with Joe. I decided that if she wanted to be a pain in the ass, I was more than up to the challenge. But I did make a mental note to search the joke shop downtown when next I got a chance to see if they still sold itching powder. If so, Molly was getting some in her bed Christmas morning. Short Shit wanted to irritate me? I could irritate her right back, and I’d had more years to perfect the art form.

We had a great meal, as expected when Molly was in the kitchen, and after dinner we quickly burned our way through the twelve pack Kelly had brought. When she offered to go get some more down at the corner store, I insisted I’d walk with her.

“So, you teach?” I began, having caught the part of her story about how she’d gone biking with a fellow teacher she met at the flea market.

“I do.” She was twisting a long strand of her chestnut hair, and it taunted me. She had a gracefulness about her that I found fascinating. The more I watched her over dinner, the more apparent it became that she outclassed me, but I figured I could still show her how we have a good time Deep in the Heart. “Third grade. I love the kids, but the parents? Forgetaboutit.”

“I can imagine. People suck,” I admitted.

“Yes. They really do.” Her quiet response was accompanied by a glimmer of despair. It vanished quickly, and I wondered if I imagined the whole thing. “And you? You make all that amazing furniture I saw in the window?” Her broad smile was sure to be my undoing. I watched the way she moved, all cat-like and confident. I decided I could watch her smile all night and never get tired of it.

I shrugged, but I felt the smug smirk creep onto my face. “I love using old stuff to make somethin’ cool. It’s recycling at its finest. One man’s junk…”

“I wish I had your talent.” The light turned yellow, and I gripped her arm on reflex. Her amber eyes traveled down to my hand then back up to meet mine.

“Tell me something,” I said. “I want to know more about you.”

“Like what?” She blinked her long lashes shyly, turning away to look ahead at the light.

“Favorite color,” I demanded.

She laughed, and it bowled me over. It was a sultry, sexy sound I hadn’t expected from her. She was certainly something different. And different in a most excellent way.

“Red.” She confessed, turning to look up at me. “Yours?”

“Brown,” I replied, taking advantage of the shadows we were passing through to let my gaze roam her body. I was still staring when we came back into the light and she caught me looking. I gave her a grin that I knew was completely unapologetic.

“My turn,” she said. “Favorite band.”

“Can’t narrow it down to one. AC/DC, maybe? Not a big fan of rap. Or yodeling. You?” I replied.

“Same here.” She sighed. “I’m a little bit country, and a little bit rock n’ roll.”

“Ditto. You’ve come to the right place. We’re—”

“The Live Music Capital of the World?” she finished.

“Yep,” I concurred, ushering her across the street with my hand on the small of her back.

“So I hear,” she chirped, her arm briefly coming around my waist before dropping away.

“Movies,” I announced, looking down at her, and loving the way she felt beside me… “Go.”

“I like happily-ever-afters,” she replied. “You?”

“Action,” I admitted. “But the hero has to save the day, so I guess you could call that a happily ever after, right?”

“Sure.” She nodded.

“Siblings?” I asked.

“Only child,” she answered, leading me into the store. “Are Molly and Mason your only siblings?”

“Yes, thank Christ,” I responded, pulling a cold case of Shiner Bock from the cooler. “So…now that we know all about each other, how about you let me give you a ride?”

The corner of her mouth curled, and she looked as if she were on the verge of laughter or something seedier.

She’s whisky in a teacup, that’s for damn sure. We’re as unlikely a pair as they come, but there’s no denying that together we’re as hot as the Fourth of July. Soaked in booze and playing with fireworks.

“Literally, or…” She turned her amused eyes on me, and I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to my place.

“Lady’s choice.”

She looked very capable of getting up to no good.

“Tempting…but I think I’ll take a raincheck.”

I COLLAPSED ON my couch and gazed at the remaining boxes littering my tiny apartment. It was a freshly painted, one bedroom in a converted home. Because it was so small I’d had to get rid of half of my stuff before making the 1400-mile journey south. Still, it was in a safe neighborhood and within biking distance of my new job.

And, most importantly, I was in Austin.

Jerry was in my kitchen, doing her best to unpack what she deemed were the ‘immediate necessities’.

“Where do you want the salad spinner?” In her coordinating pink sweat-suit, she looked like she belonged in a Nordic Trak ad, not my closet-sized kitchen.

“I said ‘the necessities’, Jerry,” I called to her, too tired to move.

“The way you eat, that is a necessity,” she clucked.

I snorted. I could tell working with Jerry was going to be a blast. She and I had kept in touch through Facebook since my vacation ended. Two weeks after I’d flown home, she’d called to tell me that one of her school’s first grade teachers was retiring. She insisted that I get my resume in ASAFP.

I was immediately tempted as I’d returned from spring break to tragic news. One of my students had been killed by a stray bullet in a drive-by shooting. Cleaning out her locker was rough, and I questioned for the thousandth time what I was accomplishing. My contract was up in May, and I was ready for a permanent change. I’d done my bit, fought the good fight and all that, but after five long years I still had no real ties to the community except Annette, and I had a feeling she’d understand.

Jerry’s inside information about the vacant position in Austin was perfectly timed. When I’d left for home after my initial visit, I was already in love with the city. The job opening was too much of a coincidence, and though I sometimes questioned my sanity, I have to cling to the belief that things happened for a reason.

“Where is everyone?” Jerry asked, tossing newspaper aside as she loaded my plates into the dishwasher. “I’m surprised your dad isn’t here with donuts and coffee directing traffic.”

“Yeah…about that…” My sheepish expression caused her to stop fiddling with the box she’d been unpacking and head in my direction.

Jerry’s green eyes honed in on me. “What?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here.” Her brow knitted in disbelief, and I hurried to explain. “I didn’t want him reading anything into it. I’ll tell him I’m here when I’m ready. Our relationship is…complicated.”

Jerry shrugged before ducking down to stow something in a lower cabinet. “Sorry, wasn’t trying to pry.”

“You’re not. It’s just…honestly I’m not really sure how I feel about being in the same city with him.” I replied, trudging into the kitchen. “My mom’s furious. She thinks I’m choosing him over her. She actually hung up on me when I told her. That was like six weeks ago, and I haven’t talked to her since.”

“Doesn’t your mom live in Colorado?” Jerry asked.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“So you lived nowhere near her when you were in Detroit,” she noted.

“Nope,” I confirmed.

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow.

I raised my hands in a theatrical gesture. “Yep. It makes no sense to normal people, but that’s my mother.”

Jerry shook her head. She crouched down and rifled around the nearest cardboard box. When she popped back up, she was holding a cake pan.

“I’m surprised you own one of these. You don’t look like you’ve eaten a piece of cake in your entire life.”

I huffed out a laugh. “You should have seen me at thirteen. I was “the chubby kid.”

She smirked and placed the pan in a cupboard. “So what do you want to do this weekend?”

“Sleep.” The drive had been excruciating, even with the hotel stop halfway through. I never wanted to get into a car again, and I was ready to slip into a coma.

“So it’s too soon for me to set you up on a blind date?” She shot me an evil grin.

I groaned and she chuckled.

“I found us a couple of cowboys,” she sang and giggled like a tween on her way to a One Direction concert.

“Where’d you find them?” My sarcastic tone was fueled by my exhaustion. “Cowboys R Us?”

“I met them at this line dancing bar. You’ll love it!” Her sales pitch was as dedicated as one of the lotion peddlers at a mall kiosk.

I sighed heavily. “Jerry…”

“You said you wanted to do something Texasy.” She tossed a dishtowel at me and a wicked grin spread across her face. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll do someone Texasy!”

I sighed once more, and she stuck out her bottom lip.

“When?” I groaned.

The bar where we met our ‘dates’ can best be described by my reaction, which was to hope I was up to date on my tetanus shot. Don’t get me wrong, I love Austin’s quirky joints, but some of them make me wonder if anyone inspects anything other than the food trucks.

In the dim lighting, I could see the place was packed. The wood paneling appeared to be from the 1970’s, and the floor was worn down to the concrete in places. There were enough ceiling tiles missing to make me wish that I’d worn a hard hat. I briefly wondered if so many patrons were wearing cowboy hats to get into the Country/Western spirit, or if they were merely trying to keep plaster out of their hair. The band onstage was playing some Reba McEntire tune, and they didn’t sound half bad. The area set aside for dancing had a well-worn floor, but it was shined to a high gloss, and the dancers utilizing it seemed to take their hobby very seriously. The space was packed with couples, and I was glad I’d worn my cowboy boots, which allowed me to blend in a little with the Western motif.

Jerry spotted our dates, and we waded toward the table they’d claimed directly next to the dance floor. Both of them stood when they saw us, and I gaped up at the two men. They had to be over six and a half feet tall and were clad in matching cowboy hats. They looked at least ten years older than we were, and I was tempted to wring Jerry’s neck.

In her defense, Jerry’s date was way better looking than mine. The one who sauntered in my direction looked like he wanted to be John Travolta in Urban Cowboy. Instead, he looked like Jon Cryer from Two and a Half Men.

“Kelly, Todd, Todd, Kelly,” Jerry said, sidling up to her date.

“Hey there, little lady. I hear you’re new in town,” Todd said, and I could tell by his bad accent that he was about as new to Texas as I was.

“Yep.” I tried to be polite but I wasn’t feeling it. Besides, I couldn’t stop watching the dancers. I’ve always been obsessed with dancing; in fact, I’m a closet Dancing with the Stars fan. I never miss an episode. For this, I blame my parents. They were accomplished swing dancers and two-steppers when I was very young, and I grew up watching them rehearse with rapt fascination. This was one childhood memory of mine that had somehow never been tainted, not by absent fathers or grieving, angry mothers.

I fondly recall sitting on my mother’s bed as she primped for their nights out. I loved watching her curl her long hair. She had mountains of blonde hair, and I thought if I wished hard enough, I’d grow up to have golden curls like hers. I always wished I’d inherited her creamy white complexion instead of my father’s olive skin. Mom had since cut her hair into a practical pixie cut, but even after all these years her skin was still amazing.

She’d spritz on the orchid-scented perfume my father bought her in New York City, and I thought she was the epitome of glamour. Even now, I own a bottle of that perfume, and I wear it on very special occasions. Back then, when Mom was all made up, she looked like a movie star. That was before the late nights, chain smoking at the table while sifting through piles of bills. Before that, she smiled all the time, and the way my father whistled when she walked into the living room…I was sure that was what love was all about.

Then they’d dance, and their dancing always held me spellbound. They moved like a perfect unit, and at times it was impossible for me to discern where one of them began and the other ended. They tried to teach me when I was little, but at the time I had two left feet. I didn’t mind; I was perfectly contented to observe, and the flawless way they moved was like magic. By the time I was coordinated enough to learn, dad was long gone.

I was vaguely aware of my date wandering away as the band launched into a Luke Bryan song. Jerry squealed with delight and pulled her cowboy out onto the dance floor. Even though he was about a foot taller than she was, they made an adorable pair, with their matching million-dollar grins. Jerry could really dance, and I silently cheered them on. My date reappeared with a pitcher of beer and two glasses.

“You look like you could use one of these,” he said, sitting the pitcher down.

I nodded. If I was going to have him hitting on me, I definitely was going to need a few beers. The cloud of his obnoxious body spray made my eyes sting. With an effort, I forced a smile, not wanting to be ruder than I’d already been. “Thanks.”

“Wanna dance?” he asked, stroking his overly thick mustache. It was an awfully suggestive gesture for some reason that made my skin crawl.

“Nah. I’m good.” I picked up the glass he’d just poured for me.

“Maybe that’ll loosen you up,” he teased, pouring his own beer. I noticed he was leering at my cleavage, and with a blatant eye-roll, I turned away from him and back to the dancers. I’d just placed my glass to my lips when I saw Mac on the dance floor, and I nearly choked on my beer.

I thought he looked hot straddling his bike, but seeing him in boots, tight jeans and a button up shirt gave me momentary heart palpitations. He’d forgone the cowboy hat, which only made him stand out more amongst his peers. Based on the looks on the faces around him, I wasn’t the only woman who’d taken note of him. That was hardly surprising. He may as well have had a spotlight trained on him.

The band was still playing Country Girl, and the thunder of boots striking the ground in unison punctuated the bass line. My attention was focused on Mac and the rest of the room seemed to vanish. I was glad he was too busy to notice me staring.

The trashy girl dancing with him was doing everything she could to keep his attention. Tossing her over-teased hair, she shook her ass like she was working a stripper pole. Mac didn’t seem bothered by her display. His athletic body gyrated, twisted, and spun to the music, making my mouth water enough that I blindly reached for my beer and gulped it down. Every once in a while, he’d break out of the line to do some quasi-dirty-dancing with the blonde, and I had to admit they really were impressive. I gaped at him in shock, not only at how well he danced, but how good he looked doing it. Luckily, he was so focused on his date’s fake tits, he didn’t see me drooling.

When the song had drawn to a close and Mac had stopped swinging that ass of his, I realized that my date had been trying to engage me in conversation for the entire song. Unfortunately, that was about the time that he noticed that I wasn’t paying attention to a word that he was saying. He lapsed into silence, a look of annoyance on his mediocre face. I took a deep drink of my beer using my glugging time to think of a way to diffuse the situation. I was grateful for Jerry’s timely return with her date in tow.

“So how are you two getting along?” Jerry asked in a breathless voice. Todd made a noncommittal grunt and walked off into the crowd. Jerry shot me a quizzical look, and I shrugged, unconcerned. Between the noise and my utter lack of interest in ‘String-bean Cowboy,’ I really couldn’t find the energy to come up with an excuse. Jerry took the hint and whisked her date to the bar for a drink. I let out a relived sigh and picked up the pitcher, pouring myself another beer.

“Well now, small world.” Mac’s easy drawl sent shivers up my spine, and I sloshed some of the beer I was pouring. I turned to look up at him, and I’ll be damned if he wasn’t ten times more attractive than I remembered.

“You missed me so much you couldn’t stay away?” He flipped Todd’s empty chair around backwards and straddled it with a flourish. I decided he was a straddling expert, which made my mind wander to what else he might be an expert at.

“You found me out,” I joked, taking another long drink of my beer.

“Francis didn’t mention you were coming into town.” His pale eyes swept over me, and when they lingered on my cleavage, I found myself far less judgmental of him than I had been of Todd.

“He doesn’t know,” I replied. Mac’s eyebrow rose, and his lips slid into an infectious smile. I briefly wondered if his lips tasted as rich and delicious as they looked.

“I can keep a secret.” The way he said it made heat spread across my chest and up my throat. This man was always pushing, and I was surprised to realize that I liked it.

I quickly explained about my new job and that I’d just been in town for a few days.

“Well, welcome to the neighborhood. If you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar, I’m your guy.” He held out his beer bottle, and I clinked my glass against it. He pinned me with his gaze as we both lifted our drinks to our lips. It was clear that Mac could make anything look sexual, even swallowing.

“Where’s your date?” I asked, clearing my throat. I glanced around for the trashy girl, but she was nowhere to be seen. When I turned back to him, his watchful blue gaze was still on me.

“Where’s yours?” he asked, laughter evident behind his eyes. His deep voice was a major turn on, and I caught myself twirling my hair.

“He’s around here somewhere,” I responded. Surprise overtook his features, and I realized he’d presumed I was alone.

“It’s a blind date,” I blurted and immediately felt like an idiot. His lips twitched with a ghost of a smile.

“He must be blind if he walked away and left you sittin’ here alone.” Mac leaned forward and brushed a tendril of my hair away from my cheek. I told myself to laugh it off, but I was held captive by the probing way he was looking at me. The moment went on and on, and just when I thought he might lean in closer and kiss me, he sat back.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Mac drawled, and seeing some commotion over his shoulder, I ripped my gaze from his. My stomach plummeted when I realized Todd had spotted Mac at our table. He purposefully strode in our direction and dropped his hand on Mac’s shoulder.

“Hey there, Mac. Move along now, this little lady is with me,” Todd said tightly in his affected Texan accent that seemed to come and go. Mac twisted in his chair, and he looked pointedly down at the hand on his shoulder. Then he smiled, but his eyes remained stone cold.

“Todd,” Mac tilted his head sideways a bit. “Kelly and I are catching up. We’re old friends.”

“Is that so?” Todd gave me as suspicious look. I ignored him, I didn’t need to explain myself to a guy I’d known for all of fifteen seconds. “Well, I think you can catch up later. She’s my date.”

“Seems to me, the ‘little lady’ can decide who she wants to sit with. I don’t see a ring on her finger…and I know you’re not her father. Though now that I think about it, you’re probably around the same age he is…”

Todd’s face turned bright red, and I felt hands on my arms. Jerry had appeared out of nowhere to pull me away from the two men. I looked at her like she was off her meds, but then Mac slid out of his seat and rose to face Todd, and I realized Jerry was far more in tune with the undercurrent of the situation.

Mac blinked hard a few times as he stepped closer to Todd and I realized he had just crossed into the ‘body spray zone’. He waved his hand between the two of them as if to disperse the stench, and Todd shot him a dirty look. As they stood face to face, I noticed that even though Todd had a few inches of height on him, Mac was much broader and way more intimidating. Todd seemed to notice this too and appeared to be rethinking his territorial claim on me. After a glance in my direction, he cracked a crooked grin.

“Well, hell. I didn’t realize you were a friend of hers.” His accent had vanished once more, and he looked over Mac’s shoulder at Jerry’s date and jerked his head toward the door. “I’m gonna call it a night, man. See ya later.” Nodding to Mac, Todd made his exit, giving me a tip of the hat as he walked away.

“What the hell just happened?” Jerry asked, her eyes following Todd as he scurried out the door.

“Jerry, meet Mac. Mac, this is Jerry,” I said with a sigh.

“Wait! The Mac?” Jerry gave me a sideways smile, as she moved in to offer her hand to Mac.

“Oh, she mentioned me, did she?” Mac asked, giving her his signature Captain America grin. Or perhaps Captain Morgan might have been a more fitting description.

“Only about a hundred times,” Jerry confided, her dazzling smile revealing her perfect dimples. “I’ve heard all about you.”

Feeling betrayed, I was tempted to pour the remainder of the pitcher over her head. I might have gushed a little to her about how funny and hot he was after the night at Molly and Joe’s rooftop extravaganza, but she didn’t need to tell him that.

“Nothin’ but compliments, I hope.” Mac raised he eyebrows at me, and I folded my arms, not amused.

“Hmmmm…well…everything she said could be construed as good in the right context,” Jerry affirmed, and with a deeper, pointed look my way, Mac released her hand and turned to me. He casually slipped his arm around my shoulder, and his touch made every nerve ending he came into contact with tingle pleasantly. He smelled very nice. Clean, musky, masculine. He was eyeing me thoughtfully, and leaned closer, opening his mouth to speak. That’s when BleachBlonde McFakeboobs reappeared.

“There you are,” she purred, her raccoon eyes assessing and dismissing me immediately. “Ready for another dance?”

“Actually, I was fixin’ to dance with her,” Mac replied, pulling me closer against his side. I put my hand out on instinct, and when it came into contact with his hard chest, I felt my temperature shoot through the roof. McFakeboobs suddenly decided I was worth a second glance, and after she re-evaluated me, she huffed.

“Whatever,” she spat and walked off in the direction of the door.

“Mac, I don’t…” I started to explain that I didn’t dance when the current song ended. The crowd roared, and the band launched into a ballad.

“Come on,” Mac insisted in that panty-dropping drawl of his. Before I could protest further, he was guiding me out onto the dance floor. Once there, he took my hands, draping them around his neck.

“That was a bit harsh,” I said, cautiously watching his date storm out the front door.

“What?” Mac turned his ear to me, as if he were having trouble hearing me. I leaned in so I could put my mouth closer to his ear.

“First you get my date to leave, then yours,” I replied. “What’s next? Are you planning to pull the fire alarm?”

He pulled back and nodded.

“Well, it is getting hot in here,” he murmured, and I couldn’t suppress a smile.

“She’s probably outside looking for my car so she can key it. Good thing I didn’t drive,” I said, trying to keep things light. My intense physiological response to him disturbed me, and I worked to keep myself in check.

“She wasn’t my date. I came here alone,” he said in a distant tone, his expression hardening a little. He said it just loud enough so I could make out the words. As we moved in a slow circle, I noticed Jerry and her date inching toward the door. She mouthed ‘bye’ and gave me a little wave. I glared after her as I watched them leave. She’d driven, and now I was trapped.

“Looks like I’m chasing everybody’s dates away,” Mac said, with his signature Cheshire grin.

“She’s no longer my friend,” I grumbled. “I don’t suppose I could take you up on that raincheck.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t catch that.” He presented his ear to me once more, as the band decided to bring home the ballad, and the lead singer was wailing at the top of his lungs.

“I said, ‘I might need to take you up on that raincheck.’” I paraphrased. He turned his face suddenly toward mine, and our faces were just inches apart. His eyes uncrinkled, and his devious grin evaporated. I saw need in his eyes and something far more elusive. For one very long moment, I was certain he was going to kiss me. I may have even closed my eyes in anticipation of it. The sound of his laughter jolted me out of my trance.

“Oh…yeah. The ride.” His chuckles died down with a sigh, and I felt relief radiating off of him in waves.

What the hell?

“Sure.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the door. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Minutes later, he led me out of the bar and into the sweltering August evening. A crowd of people crossed our path on the sidewalk, and he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me aside so I wouldn’t get trampled. He maneuvered me down the block with his arm around me. He did it comfortably and confidently, as if we’d been out together a thousand times before. When he stepped off the curb, I recognized his black motorcycle, and my heart thudded in my chest. I wish I could say it was because it was so cool and he looked so sexy climbing on, but in truth I was scared shitless. Minutes later, we were zipping along through heavy traffic. Thankfully, Mac had insisted I wear his helmet, and having never been on the back of a bike, I clung to him as if at any moment I’d blow off into the night.

I cannot express the relief I felt when we finally pulled into the driveway of my place. He’d taken some back way there, and I had no idea we were close until we were parking. Or it might have something to do with the fact that I’d had my eyes smashed shut for the entire ride. I hurried off of the bike and nearly tripped over my own feet. Mac grabbed my arm to steady me.

“You all right?” he asked, as he easily dismounted from the bike.

“Yeah.” I tried to take the helmet off, but my hands were shaking too badly to manage the job.

“Here.” He reached out and undid the snap with one swift movement and helped me remove the helmet. His eyes roamed my hair, and he snickered.

“What?” I was getting a little tired of being laughed at, and my frayed nerves made me an easy target.

He hooked the helmet onto the bike and ran both of his large hands over my hair, smoothing it. There was something foreboding blazing behind his cool eyes. Something raw, masculine, promising. “I never thought someone could make helmet hair sexy. Should’ve known you’d pull it off.”

Though I fixed him with a disbelieving frown, I was thoroughly charmed by him, and it made me want to kick myself.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “Is this the part where we make small talk until you invite me in?”

An incredulous laugh escaped me. “I’m not asking you inside.”

He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, and his eyebrow cocked skyward. “Why not?”

“Because,” I scoffed, “classy girls don’t invite men into their apartments on the first date.”

His eyes lit with amusement. “Is that so?”

“It is.” I nodded. “Though based on the company you were keeping at the honkey tonk, I can see how you wouldn’t know this rule.”

“Hey now.” He mocked a serious expression. “Let’s not talk about people who aren’t here to defend themselves.”

“You didn’t seem too concerned with her defense back at the bar,” I pointed out with a smirk, turning toward the house.

“I was distracted,” he said, his long strides catching up to me easily.

I pursed my lips. “That’s too bad. I bet she would have invited you up if you’d taken her home.”

He squinted his eyes at me. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous of her.” I laughed at the idea.

He stopped walking, and on instinct, I did too. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” I admitted. “She’s pretty…in a slutty kind of way.”

“Sluts are people, too.” He shrugged, and I couldn’t help but snicker as I continued toward the house. “So about this rule of yours…is it written in stone?”

“Yep.” I sounded remarkably committed to my morals considering that inside of my head, I was trying to remember where I had packed my condoms.

“But this…” He gestures between the two of us with his fingers. “This wasn’t a date. So I think that renders your rule null and void. Technically speaking.”

We’d arrived at the front door, and I turned to face him. I stuck out my hand.

“Goodnight, Mac. Thank you for bringing me home.”

He took my hand, but instead of shaking it as I’d intended him to, he brought it up to his lips. He kissed it, and the warm, wet contact jolted a direct line from his lips to between my legs. His smoldering eyes belayed their icy cold color, and I couldn’t decide whether to focus on his eyes or his lips.

Then just like that, it ended. He released my hand.

“Goodnight, Sugar,” he replied, gifting me another of his condescending grins.

I watched as his strutted in the direction of his bike. I was a little sad to see him go, but the view of him from behind was truly astounding.

“I bet you call all the girls that,” I called after him, wanting to have the last word.

He stopped and turned, a wry small barely visible in the faint light of the streetlamp.

“Only the sweet ones, Kelly,” he said. He turned back to his bike, and I got to see his signature move as he swung his leg up and over it once more. I watched him ride off down the block until he was swallowed up by the night.

AUGUST FLEW BY, and we were halfway into September before I had a chance to relax. That’s when Joe and Molly announced that they were having twins, and Joe said we needed to hire another guy for the shop. I kept my mouth shut, but inside, I rejoiced. We were so busy at Good Wood that I didn’t have time to do anything more than eat, sleep, and shuttle my kid to PeeWee football.

Things were starting to get ugly with Junior’s mom again, only this time it wasn’t about money. Patty had started dropping the ball on a regular basis, and now even the school had begun to complain. The first time I met Principal Higgens, I knew things had gone too far. The principal was a matronly woman with gray hair and a no-nonsense stare, and I remember thinking that I’d have been on the honor roll if I’d had to contend with the likes of her.

Junior was coloring in her office when I got there, and the icy look she shot me told me I’d been tried and found guilty. After sending Mac Jr. off to collect his things, she ushered me in and closed the door.

“Mr. Hildebrandt, I hope you’ll forgive the intrusive nature of my question, but is there something going on with M.J.’s mother?” I kept a poker face, not wanting to let on how angry I was with Patricia. When I finally answered the principal, I did my best not to lie.

“I’m not really sure where she is.” It was true and alarming beyond words. “Normally she would’ve called me to pick up Mac Jr. if she was running late. Maybe she broke down somewhere without cell service.”

Covering for the mother of my child was one of many small compromises that I’d grown accustom to making for the sake of my son. Sadly, I did it more now than I had during our brief marriage. That’s the thing about compromises: the tiny ones open the door a crack, then the bigger ones start to sneak through. Time and pressure can throw that door wide open, and if you aren’t careful, your entire house gets washed downstream by the flood.

“Yes, well, it’s unusual for us to have a parent ‘no call no show.’ It is unheard of for us to have a child here after school for over an hour with no communication. That’s why we finally called you. I’m very glad that we were able to reach you.” She left it unspoken what ‘official’ actions she would have had to take if I hadn’t answered the phone.

“You can call me any time you have a concern, Ma’am.” I replied. “M.J.’s my number one priority.

For Mac Jr., all of this was a normal Tuesday. He was his usual goofy self, all smiles and joking around. On the way home, he begged me for an after-school snack, and considering it was nearly dinnertime, I obliged. While we waited in line for the drive thru, I tried to call Patty twice, and it just rang and rang.

Junior was already chowing down his chicken strips and chocolate shake when Patty finally called. She was all apologies and tears.

“Oh, Mac! I just woke up! Do you have Mac Jr.? I took some medicine for my cold, and it knocked me out.” She sounded so frantic and reasonable that against my better judgement, I accepted her excuse. I decided to let the issue pass, telling myself it was a one-time mistake. I relayed the principal’s concerns so that Patty knew what was at stake.

I’d tried to talk to Patricia a few times about getting help for her drinking, but these conversations usually devolved. I’d go in with good intentions and come out with her screaming at me to get the hell out of her house. I’d finally stopped pushing when she told me that her life was none of my concern and hinted that if I kept it up, she’d make it hard for me to see MJ. While I doubted she could swing something like that with her record, I’m cautious when it comes to my boy, and I don’t want to tempt fate unless it becomes absolutely necessary. As much as she lets him down, Mac Jr. loves his mom. I backed off, and I made it clear that as long as she was a good mom I’d stay out of her business.

Unlike my sister, I actually tried to mind my own business most of the time. I kept my mouth shut about Kelly being in town, too, but that wasn’t easy. Every time Francis mentioned Kelly, I had to leave the room. Since the night I took her home, she’d been on my mind more and more. Her prim and proper routine didn’t fool me. There was so much more behind that innocent face. She cracked me up, and that was refreshing. A keen sense of humor wasn’t typical with the women I took to bed. I looked forward to seeing her again and was getting tired of waiting around for her to come around.

I kept waiting for Kelly to turn up at the shop; but weeks had passed, and she had yet to show. I was tempted on several occasions to swing by her apartment since I knew where she lived, but I didn’t want to come off as some desperate creeper. I had some concerns that I’d run into Francis there, and I’d have a rough time explaining how I knew where Kelly lived or even that she was in Texas. Finally, Francis came into the shop one morning and informed us that Kelly had moved to town and had started a teaching job. Joe asked all of the appropriate questions, while I just bit my tongue and nodded politely.

It was a couple of weeks more before I saw her again. Finally one day in early October, she breezed into the front door of the shop. My memory hadn’t done her justice, and I ogled her amazing body. She somehow managed to look elegant in faded jeans and a snug green sweater that fit her like a glove. She smiled politely at me, and when she said ‘hello,’ her tone was polished and indifferent. That stung a bit, but I figured it was because her dad was standing right there, as well as my chatterbox of a sister who’d evidently taken Kelly to lunch. Molly’s a known busybody, so I followed Kelly’s lead, though my first instinct was to give her a ration of trash about staying away so long.

She and Molly had been to Franklin’s Barbecue, and they’d been thoughtful enough to bring some takeout back for us. My stomach growled when the smell of the legendary slow cooked meat hit me. We’d been so busy that we hadn’t even taken the time to make a burger run, and we were starving.

Francis turned the sign to ‘closed,’ and we all went back into the break room. He and I dove head first into the amazing brisket, and while we ate, Kelly asked Molly a ton of questions about Molly’s food truck, Wrapgasmic, and the Austin food truck movement in general. I listened carefully, hoping to pick up a few details about Kelly, since every time we were in the same room our conversations weaved around until they dropped into the gutter of sexual innuendo.

What I did gather from her side of the conversation with Molly was that Kelly was a total fitness nut. She went to Barton Springs to swim three times a week, and she was about to quit kayaking for the season because the water was too cold. When Kelly said she wasn’t sure what she’d do with all the extra free time, Molly blabbed on about some singles group that one of her employees belonged to.

“It’s called Capers and Connections. I guess it’s mixers for single people…a way to be in the right place to meet other single people while trying new stuff.” Molly sipped her sweet tea and placed a hand on her growing belly. “Isaac says it’s a pretty cool alternative to sitting on a barstool, trying to pick someone up. If I was single, I’d totally do it.”

Kelly nodded and responded with ‘oh yeahs and uh huhs,’ and I was tempted to put my sister into a choke hold, pregnant or not. Putting Kelly into an environment full of young single men from any walk of life would screw my chances with her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see she was a total catch, and I envisioned my window of opportunity sliding shut.

The food was nothing but a memory when Joe came in, but he didn’t have time to partake in BBQ anyway. He and Molly were house hunting, since there was no way they’d be able to fit two babies’ worth of shit into their two bedroom apartment. They had an appointment with their realtor, and I for one was very happy to see my sister on her way out the door. Molly told Kelly she’d cook her some Hildebrandt BBQ, and Kelly mentioned some 5K that she was running in. After butting my nose in for clarification, I’d agreed to run the race with her. Molly and Joe both had a good laugh; I hadn’t done any serious cardio in a long-ass time, and they both knew it. But I’d cut back on my smoking a few months before, since Mac Jr. had come home from school talking about how it was going to kill me. I’ve been active all my life, and I’ve got a physical job. I figured it was a way to get physical with Kelly and didn’t see running a little over three miles as a lofty goal.

I shoot hoops. I’m in a dart league. I play drunk golf. Okay, those last two are piss-poor examples, but how hard can a 5K be?

Joe and Molly left for their appointment, and a young couple came wandering into the shop. Francis led them back into the showroom, and I saw my chance. I followed Kelly out of the front door and caught her before she could close her car door.

“Hey!” I called. She turned, and her wide smile and soft eyes welcomed me to start a real conversation.

“‘Hey,’ yourself,” she replied as I rested my hand on the open car door.

“Where you been, girl?” I asked, surprising myself. I hadn’t expected to bring up her absence, but I guess that’s what happens when you have someone on your mind for weeks on end.

“Setting up my classroom…unpacking all my crap.” She climbed back out of the car, and I didn’t bother to back up. I liked being this close to Kelly. It was a mild afternoon, and in the sunlight, I could see the small scattering of freckles that spanned her cheeks. Her eyes were light brown, like the muddy water of the Colorado River, and I watched her blush with satisfaction.

It’s not all in my head. She likes me, too.

“It still takes me a while to get anywhere since I’m new in town.” She looked up at me from under her lashes. She didn’t seem uncomfortable with my closeness, so I stayed put.

“I thought about stopping by, maybe taking you out for a beer. Or a cup of coffee,” I told her. A sudden gust of wind blew a long strand of her hair across her lips. I had to actively resist the urge to brush it out of her face.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Her girlish lilt made what she said sound extra naughty, and I couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Yeah, well…” I had no comeback, and that was a strange state of affairs.

“So you’re really going to run this race with me, right?” She fed me a thread to run with, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and out of her face.

“Hell yeah. I’m going to smoke you, too.” The flash in her eyes spurred me on. “But don’t worry, Sugar. I’ll give you a head start. I want you to feel like you’ve got a sporting chance.”

“Keep talking smack.” She wrinkled her nose and put her hand on her hip. She looked so damned adorable, I kicked myself for not camping out on her doorstep weeks before.

We exchanged a few more friendly barbs, and I somehow conned her out of her phone number before she left. When I walked back in the shop, Francis was behind the counter, his dark eyes trained on me in disapproval. I greeted him casually, and he pointedly ignored me as if I were a ghost.

That same night, I borrowed Robin’s old treadmill, and I forced myself to get on the stupid thing every day for an hour. I damned near had a heart attack the first few times, but it made giving up the smokes a hell of a lot easier. Kelly and I texted each other every night, comparing miles ran, how long it took us, and calories burned. The night before the race, I finally called her.

“Calling to back out?” That was how she greeted me, the little minx.

“Nah. I thought you might be feeling shy about your concession speech, so I thought I’d break the ice. Lend you my thesaurus to help you out with the big words.”

“Dream on, Smack-talker.”

“What do you say we make this interesting?” I asked, popping a Lean Pocket in the microwave. “If I win, you go out on a date with me.”

There was a long pause.

Fuck.

“That depends.” She sounded far too serious for my taste. “You remember my kissing rule, right?”

“No kisses the first time I bring you home on the first date. No problem. I’ve already brought you home, so I should be grandfathered in.” I reached for a beer and thought better of it, grabbing a bottle of water instead. “We’re in the clear.”

“I’m not sure there’s a grandfather clause in this situation.” The sultry edge in her voice made me want to ask what she was wearing.

“We could always skip the kissing and go straight to the good stuff.” I offered.

“Oh, no.” Her voice was even huskier this time. “I really like the kissing.”

My throat felt dry, and my pants felt tight. The microwave dinged, and I nearly gave myself third degree burns retrieving my dinner since I wasn’t thinking clearly. “Maybe I should just come over now and we can practice.”

She laughed. “What happens if I win?”

“You won’t.” I said without missing a beat.

“Let’s say I did.” She pressed.

I smiled. “Hell will freeze over.”

She sniffed. Then in a sassy tone, she dismissed me. “Goodnight, Mac.”

“Night, Sugar.”

Since the race was called the Howl-O-Ween 5K, I borrowed Mason’s dog, Bones. He was a little out of shape just like me, but Kelly had mentioned that we’d be the odd folks out if we didn’t have a dog. When I found her at the starting line, she looked amazing in black running pants that clung to every curve and a red shirt that said “I run to burn off the crazy.” She gushed all over the old hound dog as if he were a tiny baby puppy she could put in her purse. Bones ate that shit up, which just proved Kelly’s appeal to the male gender, no matter what the species.

When we actually crossed the finish line, we were neck and neck. It’s my belief that she was purposely hanging back with me. She had to be sandbagging; she was a finely tuned machine, and I was nothing more than a weekend warrior.

No one could declare a winner, but that didn’t stop my asshole brother and Joe from dumping an entire cooler of cold water over my head. My nieces and nephews pointed and laughed, so I chased the little shits around until Robin threatened to kick my ass if I got anything on them. I caught Kelly laughing about it too, so I picked her up and rubbed my freezing wetness all over her clothes. Rubbing up against her was pretty awesome, but making her squeal and wrinkle her nose was the real prize.

“I’m impressed, bro.” Mason rocked his shoulder into mine. It was the first time in a while that I’d seen him in the light of day. He looked old, and since he was only a few minutes older than I was, I wondered if I did, too. We weren’t identical, and that definitely showed in his hairline, which is why he was rarely seen in public without a hat. I decided to make my brother and his family more of a priority now that we didn’t see each other at work every day like we used to. “I figured you’d give up halfway through and call me for a ride.”

“I was tempted,” I murmured, glancing over at Kelly, who was chatting with Robin a few feet away. “When are we grillin’ next?”

“Name the day and bring the beer,” he replied.

“Next weekend. We’ll tailgate.”

“Hook ‘em, Horns!” He made the Longhorn symbol with his hand, and I smiled. We may not have gone to a four year university, but if we had, we’d have worn orange.

“Where’s Mac Junior?” Mason asked, glancing around. “I thought Patty was bringing him down.”

“Yeah, me too.” I mumbled, and my brother gave me his knowing look. People think we can communicate without talking, since we’re twins. The truth is, we just know each other well enough to make intuitive leaps that are right 99.9 percent of the time. My brother knew more about my sordid divorce than anyone else and knew about my growing concerns regarding my ex. Mason shook his head and tipped his cowboy hat back out of his eyes.

“That sucks, dude. You know the day is coming you’re gonna have to take her back to court, right?”

I cracked open my second bottle of Gatorade and chugged part of it. “I’ll burn that bridge when I have to, Mason. I want her to be in his life. That’s what’s best for M.J.”

“I know what you want. It’s good to want things.” Mason shrugged and took a sip of his Coke. “But reality’s reality, bro. What’s best for Mac Junior is stability.”

I knew he had a point, but I had to change the subject. Patty had put me through the legal ringer when we first divorced, and neither of us wanted to repeat that dance anytime soon. I tried to brush aside Mason’s comments and enjoy the rest of my evening, but my mind kept revisiting his words.

After we’d sampled some of Molly’s BBQ from her nearby food truck, Kelly and I realized that our cars were still at the starting line, and neither of us had the energy after gorging ourselves to retrace our steps.

“I”ll give y’all a ride,” Joe offered, and I could tell by the way he kept looking over at Molly (like a Chihuahua with its tail between its legs) that they were on the outs. As for Molly, she seemed to be ignoring Joe as if he were a Jehovah’s Witness pounding at her door.

“What about Short Shit? Don’t you need to wait for her?” I asked. Joe’s expression darkened, and had Kelly not been standing there, I would have pressed him to go have a beer with me.

“She drove separately…and she’ll be here long after I’m in bed.” The way he studied his steel-toed boots cinched it. There was something going on with them.

“But we’re sopping wet. We can’t get in there!” Kelly exclaimed when we arrived at Joe’s restored classic truck.

“We’ll ride in the back.” I explained.

“But isn’t that illegal?” she asked, looking all of twelve years old in her wide- eyed horror.

Joe and I chuckled, and I picked her up and deposited her in the back.

“Ah! Mac! Ooooo…look at the wood.” Kelly ran her hand over the gleaming wooden truck bed, polished to perfection.

“That’s what she said,” I quipped. Joe gave me a crooked smile, and shaking his head, he hopped in the driver’s seat. Kelly lay back in the bed, and my eyes widened.

“What are you doing?” I asked, wondering if I sounded as horny as I felt.

“Shhh…” She hushed me.

“Why are we whispering?” I whispered back loudly.

“I don’t want to get arrested for riding illegally.” She kicked at me with her tiny sneaker.

I lost it at that, laughing until my gut hurt.

“You’re not going to get arrested for that. Maybe a ticket…” I responded dismissively.

“I can’t get in trouble with the law. I’m a teacher, I have an example to set.” Her delivery was very goody-goody and such a contrast to the way she looked, laying before me, all sweaty in the clothes that fit her like a second skin. I have to admit, fantasies about her in the back of my truck popped into my head. I filed them away for a later date.

Joe barely waved goodbye as he dropped us off and then we were alone by her car.

“So about that date…” I started, determined to hammer out the details.

“What date?” Her face was blank, as if she were truly clueless about what I was referring to.

I advanced on her, and she took a step back against her car. “You know what date.”

“You didn’t win.” She smiled sweetly.

“I didn’t lose, either.”

“It’s not the same thing, and you know it.” She tossed her ponytail superiorly.

“If we go out, everyone wins.” I explained. “If we don’t, the terrorists win. Is that what you want, Kelly? Al Qaida to win?”

She bleated an embarrassed laugh. “You’re relentless!”

I shrugged, a cocky smile on my lips. “So relent already.”

She blew out a breath, and it looked for a moment as if she was puckering up for a kiss. “I think we’d make much better friends.”

I couldn’t stop myself. “Friends with benefits, then?”

“That depends. Who’s Mac Junior?” All signs of fun had vanished from her face. I hadn’t realized until that moment that she didn’t know I was a dad.

I squared my shoulders and looked her in the eye, needing to see every nuance of her reaction to the news. “He’s my seven-year-old son.

Her eyes flitted back and forth as I watched her process the information. She seemed to be waiting for more of an explanation.

“His mother and I have been divorced since he was a baby.” I added. “We share custody.”

Kelly nodded thoughtfully.

She moved forward, and I thought she might be coming in for a kiss. I closed my eyes, preparing for the impact of her lips, when I heard her car door open, and I realized she’d just been moving far enough away from her vehicle to open the door.

She started the car and rolled down her window, the impish smirk plastered on her face once more.

“I’ll see you later, Smack-talker.” She shouted over her blaring stereo.

As she drove away, she turned right out of the parking lot, and I noticed someone had keyed the word “bitch” into her car door.

MAC IN THE role of father was hard for me to wrap my brain around. Oddly, when he explained that he shared custody of his child, I found it made me like him even more. That was troubling…because I didn’t want my feelings for him mixed up with my daddy issues. Still, I considered his interest in his child a checkmark in the plus column. I told Jerry about this turn of events during our bimonthly mani/pedi. It served two purposes; we were always ready for open toed shoes, and we could talk about our personal lives which was practically impossible at work. The school secretary, Paula, was always eavesdropping on people and couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything. Within the first week of my starting at Porter Elementary, she’d told me that the principal’s son was addicted to pain killers and that the music teacher was a lesbian and her two kids were “test tube babies without souls.”

When I opened up to Jerry about Mac, she imparted more of the pop psychology wisdom that I’d come to expect from her.

“Men who are good with kids are straight up lady-porn.” She insisted. “Give me a man cradling a baby, and it’s better than oysters and Spanish Fly.”

“You know that’s right,” her manicurist nodded. Her straight black hair bounced as she worked on Jerry’s tiny feet.

“Kelly. Why are you fighting this so hard?” Jerry tucked her red hair behind her ear and fixed me with an interrogative gaze.

“Mac and I wouldn’t last a week,” I replied biting my lip to keep from laughing. I was so ticklish that I had to actively fight to keep from kicking the little Vietnamese man in the face as he exfoliated my heel.

“Oh yeah. He’s got none of the qualities you want in a man.” Jerry’s sarcasm was thicker than her newly applied polish. “He’s gorgeous. He hysterically funny. He looks at you like you’re a piece of strawberry cheesecake. And you talk about him all the time. Go out with him already.”

The thought of being alone with Mac was so overwhelming that I’d doubled my workouts to deal with the pent up frustration. We were still texting back and forth a little, sending each other jokes and memes a couple of times a week. Still, I’d decided to stay away from Good Wood (pun intended), at least for a while. I needed to do a little soul searching, to figure out exactly what the hell I was looking for and I couldn’t see Mac until I could explain my lingering resistance to myself.

I knew I came by my hang ups with men honestly. Since I was old enough to date, I’d sabotaged almost every relationship I’d had. From the moment I was officially “with” someone, I began the process of harvesting their hidden flaws, like a gardener tilling soil for a new crop, or an archaeologist sifting for buried clues to the past. I didn’t mean to be this way; in fact, I actively fought against it. I’d give myself pep talks as I prepped for dates, and I always went in with a smile on my face. Still, I’d ferret out inevitable deal breakers like some women search for the perfect pair of heels. Usually, I could find at least three reasons not to agree to a second date before our waitress brought the entrees.

I hadn’t always been so jaded. Once upon a time, I believed in fairytale endings. I dreamed of a big family, a house in the ‘burbs, and a dog to happily greet me at the door. I very much wanted to defy the odds. To do better than my parents had. To not only achieve the white picket fence, but actually keep it.

When it came to romance, I’d always been quick to cut and run. I had a tendency to move on before most guys even knew we had a problem. They weren’t smart enough, handsome enough; they were too boring or too irresponsible…you name it. This wasn’t something I was proud of, but it seemed I was powerless to change it. Abandonment can do that to a girl. If there’s anything more screwed up than a woman without a positive male role model, it’s one who had one and lost him. For years, I fought against being a cliché…a woman who bends and twists herself so that she molds to fit with the man of the day. I’d been conditioned that nothing lasts and that it hurts far more to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all. So I’m always the one to end things.

Even before I’d moved to Austin, I’d ruled Mac out as a potential boyfriend. He didn’t fit my mold at all. The truth of the matter was that no one really fit because it was a malformed, constantly evolving mold that had a tendency to leak. I’d pretty much decided I’d end up an old maid living in a condo with seventeen cats, and I was oddly okay with it. Sure, I missed sex (the good kind, at least), and sometimes cuddling when it was chilly outside or when I was watching a sappy movie. Otherwise, it didn’t bother me much.

Since returning to Texas, though, something in me had seriously changed. I couldn’t decide if it was the constant exposure to my father who still hadn’t bothered to explain himself or his fourteen-year vanishing act or Mac Hildebrandt, whose steamy overtures seemed to be picking at some aged scab I didn’t know I had.

He’d surprised me one Saturday, texting me that he needed to come over and borrow my car. I didn’t have any plans, so I said it wasn’t a problem. When he arrived, he looked particularly delicious in ripped jeans and a black sleeveless shirt. I caught myself roaming his tattooed arms with my eyes. On one side, he had a sexy cowgirl on the back of a Harley and on the other, he had a heart wrapped in barbed and razor wire. I’d seen the bottom of them peeking out of his sleeves before, but in full view they were well done and surprisingly attractive. I cleared my throat and stuffed my hands into my pockets.

“Why do you need my car?” I asked.

“Come along and find out,” he replied, gesturing to the door. I tried to read his expression, and in response, he just tilted his head, eyeing me expectantly.

“Alright,” I replied, slipping on my flip flops. The fact that it was nearly Halloween, and I was still able to wear open toed shoes was my favorite things about Texas so far. Well, it tied with the sight of Mac’s arms in that shirt, anyway.

“Mind if I drive since I know where we’re headed?” He asked. I shrugged and tossed him the keys. It was a gorgeous Autumn day, or at least what Texas calls Fall. It was just a hair too cool for swimming, and Austin only had three shades of foliage: orange, yellow, and lighter orange. Still, I’d give up the deep burgundies and bright reds for weather in the seventies and eighties any day.

With Mac driving, I was able to enjoy the scenery, a rare treat for me. Being single and new to the city, I was either watching the traffic around me or my GPS every time I climbed in my car.

We’d been on the road for several minutes when I realized neither of us had spoken. I turned to look at Mac and caught him looking at me.

“It’s a beautiful day,” I blurted, unable to ignore the way his eyes matched the sky behind him.

“Sure is.” He replied, and his eyes dropped to my mouth and lingered before he turned back to the road.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice sounding reedy and airy. Something about his presence in these close quarters made me feel fidgety and shy.

“Mason and Robin’s,” he responded.

“Oh.” I replied, studying his profile, baffled by how attractive he was.

His eyes shifted in my direction, and he turned his head toward me.

“What?” He asked, a tad self-consciously. I decided to have a little fun with him, since he was stonewalling me on the car business.

“You’re really cute,” I replied and watched as his face bloomed red. He said nothing, which for Mac was a small miracle. I kept watching him, enjoying the opportunity to observe him in a controlled setting. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you stop staring at me?” His husky voice dropped even deeper than usual. “I’m tryin’ to drive.”

“Why?” I blinked innocently, but a wicked smile crept onto my face. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

He turned those baby blues on me. “You’re makin’ my pants uncomfortable.”

It was my turn to blush.

Robin and Mac lived in a sprawling suburban brick home on a large corner lot. It had a three-car garage, and I could see Mason in the side yard, working at an electric grill. The backyard was surrounded with privacy fencing, and I recognized his kids riding up and down the streets on scooters.

“Hey!” Mason called, waving a spatula.

“Hey,” Mac called back and ushered me into the yard. Bones trotted up to me, and I knelt down to greet the old hound dog.

“Kelly!” Mason smiled, and I was struck by his similarities to Mac. They were both the same height, about six feet tall, and their features were spot on. Mason’s eyes were more hazel, and he had a few extra pounds on him, but their mannerisms were eerily similar. “How’ve you been?”

We caught up a little, Mason asking about my job and me asking about his family. Then the screen door slammed and Robin appeared, pulling a rolling cooler.

“Well, hello!” She cried, dropping the cooler handle and hurrying over to me for a friendly hug. “Mac, you didn’t say you were bringing Kelly.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he drawled, and his eyes seemed to take in every inch of my face.

“Kelly, come on inside.” Robin insisted. “I’m working on the side dishes, and I need another set of hands.”

She led me into their lovely home, with its cream-colored walls, sand-colored tile, and vaulted stone fireplace. I complimented her light color pallet, and she laughed.

“It’s hell with kids. I buy Clorox Wipes by the crate.” I wandered for a couple of minutes, admiring the family photos, which included one of Mac, Mason, Joe, and Robin at Robin’s wedding. Mac and Mason had matching haircuts, and they looked nearly identical. They all looked so much younger it was unbelievable.

The rest of the house was just as nice. She’d framed a lot of the kids’ artwork, and she’d finished with decorative crosses and over the mantle, a barbed wire shaped into the state of Texas.

I returned to the kitchen, and as we plated the side dishes, I enjoyed chatting with Robin. She talked about her job in the ER (which she said she “loved to hate”) and where she got her hair done (her highlights were amazing and I was long overdue for a hair appointment). When we finally went outside with the rest of the food, I saw that the burgers were covered with foil and Mac and Mason were in the garage with my car.

“What…” I started, and then I saw that they were polishing my passenger door. Mason turned around and I realized they’d made the keyed vulgarity on my door vanish. “Oh!”

Mac waggled a little black bottle in his hand. “Good as new. This stuff works fast. But no touching; it has an hour or so to dry.”

My mouth fell open, and I turned to Robin, who gave me a lopsided grin. “They may be huge pains in the ass, but they come in handy sometimes.”

Mason bumped Mac’s shoulder. “You can owe me for the bottle. And a favor to be named later.”

Mac nodded with a derisive snort. Robin yelled for the kids, and we all loaded our plates. I asked Robin how they made the repair so fast, and she laughed.

“Oh, honey, they do stuff like that all the time. You can’t get a Hildebrandt to sit down for more than thirty minutes, unless there is a game on. They’re all hyperactive. Even Granny, and she’s going to be ninety in June.”

I smiled and stole a glance at Mac. He was bent down talking to his tiny blonde niece, who was showing him her missing bottom tooth. I tried not to stare, but the sight of them together was picture-perfect. The way he handled her, all soft-voiced and sweet, was incredibly endearing.

“Though it is out of the ordinary for Mac to worry about anyone’s paint job. Or to willingly owe Mason a favor—for any reason whatsoever,” Robin whispered, giving me a thoughtful look.

Mac drove me home after lunch, and though he flirted as always, he made no attempt to come inside. Of all the things that had happened that day, that one in particular made the biggest impression. I wondered if he was growing tired of the game…losing interest in me.

I didn’t like that idea. Not one little bit.

I decided to give it a little time to see if I was overreacting and whether he’d come around or call. Neither happened, and I knew that the ball was in my court. If we were still playing ball.

One overcast afternoon, I found myself pulling into a parking space right in front of Good Wood. It was drizzly, and my windshield wiper was sticking. I sighed, wishing for a brief moment that I’d gone into a more lucrative profession. It would be nice to be able to just throw money at problems once in a while.

Though I’d struggled to resist the temptation that was Mac Hildebrandt, the weather had been gloomy all week, and I needed a little of the sunshine he could provide. We’d only had a half day at school, and I had the following week off for Thanksgiving. Fall break was a wonderful bonus to teaching in Texas, though my parents both did their best to overschedule me.

Mom had been pestering me about flying up to Colorado to spend Thanksgiving with her. I’d tried to tell her we only had a week off of school and that I’d already made plans, which was a stretch. I planned to go rock climbing, read a couple of books, and maybe binge watch some old sitcoms on TVLand. I’d clean my tiny apartment and do a little laundry. Most of my peers would call that boring, but it sounded deliciously drama-free to me.

Still she kept pushing, but I told her I just couldn’t get away.

“You’re having Thanksgiving with him, aren’t you?” I knew immediately who she was referring to.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Even though I was telling the truth, she’d instantly reduced me to the awkward teen I’d been when my parent’s marriage came apart at the seams. I could feel my heart racing and suddenly had the mad urge for a king-sized Snickers. “I told Francis I wasn’t ready to play ‘family holiday.’”

“Good.” I heard her exhale loudly and knew she’d given up her nicotine patches again. It wasn’t surprising. She had always been a chain-smoker. My stepdad Bart had tried everything to get her to quit, but it was the one thing my mother wouldn’t give up. “We’re dying to see you. Maybe we’ll just fly down when Bart can get away.”

“You should,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. I missed her, even though she drove me bonkers. My stepdad was a pretty cool guy, but I didn’t see Austin on his top fifty list of places to visit. There was a reason I lived far away from my mother. She had a way of making me question every decision. There was also the fact that she seemed to revel in pointing out my shortcomings. She would always tell me that I got from my flaws “from my dad.” She made me feel small, pointing out the downside in any accomplishment that wasn’t a direct result of her guidance.

My biggest concern was keeping Francis and my mom away from each other. If they ended up in the same room (or within a five mile radius of one another), it was sure to be the start of the apocalypse.

As I sat in the car replaying the conversation in my mind, I noticed my dad in the store window, and he waved to me, all cheerful and enthusiastic. I felt frown lines forming on my face. He’d pestered me to join him for Thanksgiving, volunteering at a shelter, serving meals to the homeless. Though it was incredibly uncharitable of me, I couldn’t stand the idea of him introducing me to his fellow philanthropists as his daughter. I told him I had plans with Jerry. This was a total fabrication; she was meeting the cowboy’s family in San Antonio. At least one of us was getting laid.

Dad gestured for me to come into the shop. I took a deep, cleansing breath and opened my car door. I’d come here to get my flirt on with Mac, not force politeness with Francis so he could have his Lifetime Movie holiday moment. He’d still offered no explanation for his absence all these years, and I was done waiting for one. I planned to corner him and speak my mind. A heart-to-heart with my father had been on my ‘to do’ list since I moved down south, and there was no time like the present to mark it off.

“Hi, darlin!” My father’s smile was radiant. “Happy Thanksgiving a little early.”

My eyes shot to his horrible holiday sweater with a giant turkey stitched on the front. I’m not sure what came over me, but I realized I was shaking with rage. Where did he get off being so happy? How was it fair that I was spending the holiday alone with a Cornish hen and cranberry jelly from a can while he got to experience all that good cheer serving his fellow man?

I’d never wished unhappiness on another person in my entire life, but at that moment I was thinking vile thoughts about my father, and racking up decades worth of bad karma.

“Where were you?” I demanded, and my jaw hurt from clenching it. It was suddenly very hard to for me to breathe; but my back was up, and there was no way I was letting this conversation get pushed aside like it had been so many times before.

“What?” he asked, but I could tell by his apprehension that he knew where I was headed.

“Where the fuck were you, Dad? Where were you when the kids pelted me with candy bars because I’d gained so much weight? Or on prom night, when my date didn’t want to take no for an answer? I kicked him in the nuts just like you taught me. I had to walk three miles home in my stocking feet, because Mom was working a second job at the mall!”

He looked stunned…he sputtered, as if he’d just done the Ice Bucket Challenge. I’d love to say that it made me feel better to see him that way, but it didn’t.

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but they were angry tears and I welcomed the release. “I looked for you at my high school graduation, can you believe that? Even though I may as well have been looking for the fucking tooth fairy or Santa Clause or some other mythical creature I should have outgrown when I was little!”

“Kelly…I—” he started, but I wasn’t done. My rage was like a cancer, and I needed it out of me.

“Couldn’t you just stay away and let me believe you were dead?” It was the coup de gras, and when he grabbed his chest, I was sure I was going to have to dial 911.

I turned to storm out and ran face first into a man’s chest. I stepped back, mortified, and looked up to see I’d just smacked into Joe. His handsome brow was furrowed, and he couldn’t move, as he was carrying a five-gallon can of stain in each hand. By his bashful expression, it seemed like he wished he was anywhere else in the world.

“Sorry,” I blurted, as I sidestepped him, hurrying out of the door and into my car. I was a couple of miles away before it occurred to me that Mac might have been in the shop, and if he had been, he was sure to think I was a total psycho. When Joe told him about my rampage, I’d never hear from him again.

Once I was home, I changed into sweats and a halter top, ordering my very own small Philly Cheese Steak Pizza, and breaking out a pint of Godiva ice cream. I’d just sent the delivery boy off with a decent tip when my phone rang. I picked it up to deny the call, when I saw it was Mac’s name and number on the screen.

“Hello?” I managed, after spitting my very first mouthful of cheese and meat into a napkin.

“Hey,” he sounded all business. “I’m downstairs. Can you buzz me in?”

“O…Okay,” I replied, and I hurried over to the intercom to do as he asked. The monotonous drone sounded, and it dawned on me that Mac was about to be inside my inner sanctum. I glanced around at the minor clutter and then in the mirror at my sloppy ponytail and red-rimmed eyes and groaned.

I heard the boards creak outside my apartment door, and I swung it open. Mac had his hand raised to knock. He looked amazing in a white button up shirt and black jeans. His light eyes scanned my blotchy face, my hair, and my state of dress, and he held up a case of cold Shiner Bock.

“Joe called. Said you could probably use a friend.” He brushed past me and turned sideways in order to fit into my tiny kitchen, where he opened the fridge and stuffed in the beer. He took a moment to pop the end and pull two cans from the case, and crossing back to me, he handed me one. “I hope you like Shiner.”

“I have pizza.” I replied, turning and walking back to the couch. He disappointed me when he took a seat in the nearby chair. I opened my beer and took a long pull. It was divine, and I relished the taste as I tried to think of what to say. It was hard to talk about Francis, even after all this time.

“So what did he do?” Mac asked. My confused eyes shot to his, since my mind was still stuck somewhere between the past and present.

“What? Who?” Looking decidedly uncomfortable, but resolute, Mac took a swig of beer before answering.

“Francis. What did he do to piss you off?” I realized that he was searching for an obvious reason for what triggered my outburst. It was male logic at its finest, and I was going to have to explain myself.

“He was happy.” I mumbled, swigging deeply from my beer.

Mac’s face scrunched up into the cutest expression of confusion. Then he reached out and casually snagged a piece of pizza.

“Well,” he deadpanned, “nothing’s more irritating than a happy father.”

“That’s just it,” I sat forward angrily. “What the hell does he have to be happy about?”

Mac’s light blue eyes locked on mine, attempting to penetrate my carefully maintained walls.

“Okay, we’re not talking about him being in a good mood.” he acknowledged, pausing before taking a bite of the pizza. He chewed thoughtfully and made a face that implied the pizza wasn’t bad. “Start at the beginning and tell me, Kelly.”

I wanted to refuse…to tell him that it was all too personal. Or maybe ask him to leave, as long as he left the beer behind. But I couldn’t. Instead, I sat there on my second-hand couch and began to talk. Once the words started, it was like I couldn’t get myself to shut up.

“When I look back, I can see when things started to go horribly wrong. I remember it vividly. I walked into the den and saw my mom slap my dad.” I looked at Mac and all I saw in his eyes was concern. If I had seen pity, I could have stopped. Instead, I kept spilling my guts. “They’d never fought in front of me. There’d been tense words, but never like that.”

All of it came rolling out of me after that. The good times before things came apart. How I’d never doubted my family life and how to this day I still have dreams about my childhood home.

The arguments they had about him being constantly on the road, the screaming matches about who she was seeing while he was gone, and his unexplained absences, which grew more and more frequent. My mom sobbing in her room long after she thought I was asleep. I talked about Francis leaving. How I didn’t realize that it was the last time I’d get to say goodbye. That I’d blown him off for my friends and a pointless trip to the mall.

I tried to explain the hollow feeling after, the hope I held onto that my dad would come back and that we’d somehow be a family again. How after that hope faded and my mom had started dating again, that I’d hoped he’d at least resurface to fight for us, or at least for a chance to be a dad to me. How that pathetic delusion managed to survive (even if it was only a minuscule sliver) until my graduation day. I explained to Mac that that was when a sense of closure came over me. My father was probably dead, and I just needed to move on.

All the unleashed resentment, anger, and loneliness boiled to the surface. I ranted. I raved. I think at one point I blew my nose onto one of my pizza napkins. I was sure Mac regretted his decision to volunteer his shoulder to cry on, but I was already on a roll.

Through it all, he just sat and listened. He handed me beer cans and shared my ice cream. Once in a while, he would ask for clarification or comment on something. Usually he’d just say ‘that sucks’ or ‘Damn!’

“And then he just…called me.” My voice broke. “Mentally burying your father and then having him turn up all smiles and okay…that’s surreal. I wished him dead, Mac. How do you think that makes me feel? I’m a disgusting person, because I’d rather have believed he was dead than hear that he just chose not to come home.”

By that time, I’d drained my fourth beer. The empty pizza box was stuffed in the trash, and I was starting to settle down enough that I wished I hadn’t over-shared. While we were sitting in silence, I wondered how quickly he would bolt for the door. Mac rose from the chair and finally joined me on the couch. He put his arm around me and gave me a side hug, pulling me to rest against him. It was friendly and non-threatening, and I welcomed it.

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking bad thoughts. Sometimes it’s the only relief valve you’ve got, especially as a kid. It isn’t really something you should beat yourself up about. I can’t imagine how I’d have reacted if my father had vanished.”

We sat in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“Did I ever tell you about my old man?” His voice was soft and tentative.

I shook my head, stealing a glance up at him. Obvious pain was etched in his incredible features, and I felt terrible for unloading my petulance on him.

“No. I mean…I know he passed away. Molly mentioned him a couple of times.” My words came out a little slurred. I didn’t usually drink that much, and my overindulgence was showing. “Usually when she was talking about food.”

Mac smiled.

“Yeah, he and Molly had a pretty tight bond. She was the sous chef he always wanted…someone to follow in his footsteps, so to speak. He was a workaholic like your dad was. Mason and I…we mostly raised hell, snuck beer, and hit on the waitresses. Pop and I locked horns more than once over my shenanigans. We argued a lot, and I wasted a lot of time being mad at him.” I looked into his eyes and saw the sorrow reflected there. “I can only offer you the advice of a son who misses his dad. A lot. You only get one father in this life. They aren’t perfect; they’re human. All of us make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes are too big to forgive. I’ve only known Francis for a short time, and I know he’s had problems. But I also know that he’s been a stand-up guy as long as I’ve known him. He’s always been ready to help anyone he could, even when it costs him something.” I nodded slowly, my buzzed mind slipping and sliding around his argument.

Mac bent down to meet my eyes, forcing me to peer at him by his sheer will. “He’s trying, Kelly. That’s the best any of us can do, isn’t it? Forgive him if you can. Do it for you, not for him.”

I considered how my father must have felt when I’d attacked him, and more tears welled in my eyes. I hated crying in front of Mac, but after months of trying to act like none of it mattered, I was exhausted from the fight.

Mac’s arm came around me once more, and he pulled me to his chest. I buried my face against him, and his amazing scent enveloped me. I felt my entire body relax as I melted into him, and the overwhelming sense of déjà vu made it impossible to speak or pull away. His fingers stroked my hair, and I felt his large hand on the back of my neck. His chest rose and fell deeply under my cheek, as if something was making him struggle to breathe. I felt his face in my hair as he kissed the top on my head, and before I could think twice, I turned my mouth up to meet his.

I leaned into him, seeking out his lips. The moment his soft mouth met mine, I knew what I wanted and that I’d wanted it since the moment he’d first spoke to me.

I wanted Mac.

I needed to escape into him, for him to consume me. I wanted him to help me drive all the bad memories away. Craving more, I reached for him, raking my fingers into his hair, fusing his mouth harder against mine. He let out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, immediately returning my kiss with equal fervor. For several long, glorious minutes our tongues lashed against each other’s, as our hands roamed freely. We were on the verge of combustion, and driven by instinct, I pulled myself up onto his lap, straddling him. Just as my hands were reaching for his belt he captured them in his own.

“Whoa, Sugar.” He murmured against the hollow of my neck.

“Mac…” I urged, rocking gently on top of him. I watched as he shut his seductive eyes and winced.

“Kelly. Stop.” He said the words, but I could feel how hard he was against me. I pulled a hand away from his grasp and caressed the mound beneath the crotch of his worn denim. He groaned, and grabbed my wrist again, holding it out so I couldn’t touch him. “You…you shouldn’t do something you might regret when your head is clear.”

I froze, studying his face in disbelief. “You don’t want me?”

“I didn’t say that.” His voice was thick, and his eyes were glassy.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?” I asked.

To his credit, he seemed completely stunned by the suggestion. “No. I came here ‘cause I thought you could use someone to talk to.”

Feeling like a fool, I climbed off of him and smoothed my haphazard hair out of my face. I tried to think of something dignified to say…a graceful way out of this awkward situation, but the section of my mind that strategized had apparently turned in for the evening.

Fortunately, Mac didn’t seem to have the same issue. Turning to me, he guided my chin in his direction so that I had no choice but to face him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to choke on the words. Moving in for another kiss, this one delicate and sweet, he nearly took my breath away. He pulled back and pressed his forehead to mine with a troubled sigh.

“I’m gonna go.”

“Don’t.” I frowned, the image of his crumpled body in a ditch flashing through my mind. “You’ve been drinking, too. I can’t let you get on that deathtrap of yours. Just wait here. I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.”

“I’ll call a cab.” He stood and stretched, his muscles straining against the material of his shirt. The sight of all that rugged masculinity made me twice as frustrated as I’d be when I was writhing on top of him, and I crossed my arms over my chest, fighting to steady my breathing.

“It’s no big deal,” I said. “It may not look like much, but the couch is pretty comfortable.”

“It is a big deal.” He fixed his sights on me, his gaze unrelenting. “If I stay here, I’m gonna end up in your bed in between those legs, and I’m not gonna be one bit apologetic about it.”

My lips parted in surprise at his candidness, and I realized that my posture felt artificially straight and tense.

“Let me take you out, Sugar. Like, Sunday afternoon? What do you say?” His shy tone was a stark contradiction from his dirty proclamation just moments before, and I nodded. There was not a doubt in my mind that I wanted more of what I’d just sampled. This date needed to happen. His lips turned up in the hint of a smile, and then he strode in the direction of the door, leaving me with swollen lips and a whirling mind.

I didn’t sleep well that night. It’s hard to say whether it was because of all the beer or because of the vivid images of Mac that I kept replaying on a loop. I couldn’t stop dreaming about his eyes and his mouth. Finally at 5:30 a.m., I dressed in my running clothes, though considering my hangover, I figured I’d just walk a couple of miles.

Mac’s bike was still parked in front of my building, and I heaved a sigh of relief that he’d actually listened to me about staying off of it.

I pushed my muscles to acclimate, and the more I moved, the more I wanted to move. Soon I was jogging at a fairly decent pace.

Usually, I distracted myself with carefully crafted iTunes playlists, but I’d been half delirious from lack of sleep when I’d struck out for my run, and I had left my phone sitting on the kitchen table. Music usually drove my pace, and kept me from realizing just how much a seven mile run sucked. Without Ke$ha and P!nk, even two miles would be pretty dreadful.

Observing the breathtaking scenery helped to divert my attention from my aching legs. Town Lake Trails was one of my favorite things about Austin. The endless opportunities for an active lifestyle had been a major motivator in my decision to move. If I’d stayed in Detroit, I’d be slaving away on a treadmill or elliptical while staring out at a foot of snow, no doubt. While doable, running indoors wasn’t my cup of tea, and the fresh air revitalized me on a daily basis.

When I finally made it back to the house, Mac’s bike was gone. I was bummed that I’d missed seeing him, but remembering that I’d agreed to go out with him on Sunday, my stomach was overrun by butterflies. Recollections of his stubble against my neck made me shudder as I undressed for my shower. I let down my ponytail and decided to treat myself to a trip to the salon. I wanted to look my best for this. Maybe I’d even get a new outfit. Remembering his helpless grimace as I groped him, a seductive smile overtook me. I wanted him to stay with me this time around, and I planned to make it very hard for him to argue.

As I rinsed my hair, I wondered what my father would say when he heard about us going out. Sometimes I thought that half the reason I was interested in Mac was to spite my father. I wasn’t oblivious to his concerned glances at the 5K, nor did I fail to notice how he’d made a point of hanging around nearby every time Mac and I chatted at the shop. Knowing how uncomfortable we made him had me wondering if this Mac thing was some time-released version of teenage rebellion. Then I remembered the strong first impression Mac had made, and I knew the theory was bullshit.

I spent the next day and a half prepping for our date in every possible way. Highlights and layers, eyebrows waxed, everywhere else carefully and extensively shaved, teeth whitened. It had been a long time since I’d been excited to go out with someone. I’d always had fun with Mac, and after sampling what else he had to offer, I was sure he’d be worth all of my efforts.

I was painting my toenails that evening when I got a text from him.

Mac: Still on for tomorrow, or did you chicken out?

I legitimately had tingles all over just seeing his words. I bit my lip to combat the goofy grin I felt threatening to emerge, even though I knew he couldn’t actually see me.

Me: Yes. We’re on. What time?

Mac: I drop off Jr. at his mother’s at 11:00. Any time after that. Work for you?

I immediately wondered what Jr.’s mom looked like and then kicked myself for being such a girl. I found it impossible to imagine Mac married, but my curiosity about his son kept mounting.

Me: Sounds good.

Mac: Where do you wanna go?

Me: Surprise me.

There was radio silence for about thirty minutes, and I was about to call him, when he responded.

Mac: Alright. I’ll pick you up at 3:30.

I was jittery after our conversation, and I knew I’d have another restless night. I kept waiting for his ‘cons’ list to start overwhelming me like it usually did…our six-year age difference, his previous failed marriage, the fact that he worked with my dad…but it never did. I was like a kid on the night before Christmas, and not wanting to yawn my way through our date, I broke down and took a Tylenol PM to help knock me out.

The following day, I woke to discover I’d slept through my alarm. I was only running an hour behind schedule, so I hurried to get in an abbreviated workout, and when I finally got back to the apartment, I was starting to panic about the time. Rushing around to get ready, I stubbed my toe. I swore like a sailor and even after putting some ice on it, I wondered if heels would still be an option. I came up with a Plan B for an outfit, forgoing my peep-toed Mary Jane’s and short skirt for dress jeans and boots. The upside was that I would still get to wear my burgundy top. The cut of it made me look like I had boobs, and it was obvious from his choice of dance partners that Mac was a boob man.

I was in my bra and underwear blow-drying my hair when I heard someone banging on my door. At first I thought it was my imagination, but just as I switched off the blow-drier, a second round of pounding confirmed it. I glanced at my phone and saw that it was only 2:00.

No way! He wouldn’t show up that early!

I tossed on my robe and tied it as I rushed to the door, ready to strangle him. When I flung it open, I saw my father standing in the hallway, wild-eyed and out of breath.

“Dad?” He was the last person I expected to see. He’d only been to my apartment once, when he’d brought me a blooming cactus and a card that said “You’re a Texan now!” It’d been a brief and awkward visit, but the cactus was pretty, and I kept it on my windowsill.

“We have to talk.” He sounded frantic.

I crossed my arms and didn’t move. “I’ve said what I had to say.”

“I know. I’m trying to work the steps, Kelly. I know I have no right to make demands, but I’m begging you to hear me out.”

I thought of Mac and how little time I had left to get ready. “This isn’t a good time.”

He scoffed, but it didn’t sound mean-spirited. “When is it ever a good time?”

He reeked of desperation, and though I was tempted to slam the door in his face, I couldn’t. He was still the man who’d given me life and taught me to tie my shoelaces. Shaking my head at my weakness, I stepped aside to let him in.

“So by ‘the steps’, I assume you mean twelve steps. Alcoholics Anonymous?” I shut the door and turned the lock before turning to look at him. He was as thin as a scarecrow, and I’d never seen him in such disarray.

“Yeah. And Narcotics Anonymous. Why quit at one?” His self-deprecating smile vanished when he saw I wasn’t amused. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “They give us twelve steps that we use to step our way out of addiction. One of them, the ninth step, is where we try to make amends to those we have wronged. I realized, after your little visit to the shop, that I’ve been so focused on rebuilding a relationship with you that I haven’t actually apologized. Without doing that, I can’t give you what you need.”

“And what exactly do I need?” The A.A. didn’t surprise me at all, but his assumption that he knew anything about me did. His eyes raised to meet mine, and I saw only sorrow in his expression.

“Truth, Kelly. I owe you truth. The one thing I haven’t done is answer your questions. Both the ones you asked me and the ones I suspect you haven’t wanted to ask.” He took a deep breath and motioned for me to sit. Against my better judgement, I did. Something about the situation held me almost mesmerized. Not enough to forget about Mac, though.

“I have a date to get ready for. I don’t have much time.”

Francis looked uncertain for a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think that you might be busy. I can come back later. When would be a good time?”

I sighed, glancing back at the clock. I had demanded answers from him, and here he was hat in hand to tell me. I suddenly flashed back on my inopportune trip to the mall the day that he had left. I motioned for him to sit.

“No, dad. You’re right. I asked you to explain yourself. I don’t have a lot of time, but I can spare twenty minutes for us to talk.” Francis looked relieved and took the offered seat.

“This won’t take long. I should have told you all this before. You more than anyone deserve to know what happened to me when I left. But…it’s hard to talk about. I’ll admit, I’ve been avoiding it.”

He ran his left hand over his face, his right hand unconsciously tracing random patterns on his pant leg. “The first thing that you need to know is that I was already a full-blown addict when I left you. That isn’t an excuse for my behavior; it’s simply a fact. It started with alcohol. I always was a bit of a drinker. But the changing marketplace put me under a lot of stress to adapt. The economy was in the toilet, and what had worked for me for years no longer produced the numbers. Technology was changing faster than I could keep up. I was competing with these younger, more tech-savvy guys, and to do so, I had to travel a lot more and at the drop of a hat. Business travel is exhausting, and soon I needed downers to sleep, uppers to get out of bed. My problem started small…a drink here, a pill there, but by the time I left, I was already racing down the hill toward ruin.”

None of what he said was terribly surprising, though my mother had been incapable or unwilling to level with me about the specifics. I knew they were fighting about money and things mom took for granted…things that I took for granted, like piano lessons we could no longer afford. I vaguely remembered my mother storming out of a department store when the clerk cut up her credit card. She was furious, but at the time, I assumed it was at the clerk, not my father.

He inhaled, and it drew me out of my introspection. “That last trip was a Hail Mary pass on my part. A last ditch effort to make a big sale that would pay off all of our outstanding debt. Somehow, in my drug- and alcohol-addled mind, I thought that if I could woo back a former customer, all of our problems would go away. I realize now that it was just a web of lies. I lied to myself every day…that I was in control…that I didn’t have that big of a problem. The worse things got, the more I lied.

“The deal was never going to happen. Your mother and I had had a huge fight that morning over the phone, and I don’t even think my former client knew I was coming that day. He refused to see me, and I made a huge scene. Security threw me out on my ass. They called my boss, and I was fired before I even made it back to the hotel.”

My stomach sank as a very vivid memory of my mother surfaced. After getting the blow-off from Dad’s boss for a solid month after his disappearance, she dragged me down to his corporate headquarters. I sat outside the office, and I could hear the sound of her shouting through the door. I noticed that none of the employees, many of whom I’d known my whole life, would make eye contact with me. I was about to turn thirteen, but I wasn’t an idiot. Bad things were going down, and they all knew a lot more about it than I did. Red-faced, I picked up a magazine, and forced myself to get lost in the beauty tips.

Things quieted down on the other side of the door, and when my mother finally reappeared, she looked a bit disheveled. Her eye makeup was gone, but her lipstick was too. She had my father’s final check in her hand. Severance, she called it, thrusting it at me as she started the car. He’d tried not to pay it, she’d informed me, saying my father had ‘outstanding expenses.’ I knew my mother could be persuasive, but looking back with adult eyes, I wondered just exactly how persuasive. Considering Dad’s former boss was her first boyfriend a few months later, I imagine the answer was ‘incredibly.’

“I couldn’t call home.” Francis sounded emphatic. “I didn’t even consider it, not after the way I’d left things with your mom. I ended up going on a bender, worse than any I’d been on before. I ordered a double and the next thing I knew a month had disappeared. I woke up in a pile of garbage in an alleyway not far from where I’d been staying. I had no wallet, no watch, and no identification. I was stone-cold broke. My keys were gone, and the hotel clerk explained that my car had been towed a couple of weeks before.

I tried calling your mom, but the phone had been disconnected. It took me a few weeks, but I managed to find a job for cash, unloading semi-trucks. I made enough money to get a bus ticket home.

When I got there, the bank had already taken the house. We were several months behind when I’d last been home, so without my paychecks, it wouldn’t have been long before the eviction notice came. You and your mom were long gone.”

I realized I was holding my stomach, nausea gripping me as I recalled packing to leave the only home I’d ever known. We left the piano behind, because we had no room for it in our new apartment. I went to say goodbye to my friends, but none of them were home. They’d gone to the mall without me.

“I went to your Aunt Susan’s house to see if she could help me find you. She ripped me a new one and threw me off of her porch. Nothing she said was untrue. I wasn’t much of a man. I couldn’t support my family. She refused to tell me where you were. I know now that she was in the right.

I should have gone and gotten help right then, but I wasn’t that smart. I left her porch in search of the only friend I had at the time. A bottle of whiskey. It was nearly a year later before I was sober enough to check the date. I was in Memphis then, in a court-ordered, church-run rehab facility. I was sober long enough to talk my way out onto the street on a work detail. Then I blew town, jumping on a rail car and riding the rails south into Alabama. It’s warmer there, so sleeping on the streets was a lot more doable.”

I was stunned to hear that he’d been homeless. I’m not sure what I expected. A string of affairs, maybe a second family somewhere. I had a vivid imagination, but the father I remembered would never have survived on the streets. Not the guy with the quick smile who always charmed our waitresses and the one with the money clip full of cash. The man who made my piano teacher giggle and danced so well with his pretty blonde wife.

He sat back, running both hands through his hair. I could tell by the discomfort in his features the story was about to take a turn for the worse.

“I ran with a rough crowd for a while. Drug dealers, drunks, prostitutes…thugs. I remember doing some pretty horrible things back then. I’m sure I’ve forgotten more than I remember. Then I was asked to go past my line in the sand, and when I refused, I ended up on the outs with a heavy hitter. A very bad guy…

“His boys beat me pretty bad. I had a concussion, and my right knee hasn’t worked well since. They took what money I had and left me in the middle of the road. The cops found me, and I ended up in the hospital. Once I healed up enough to realize what was what, I played possum, making sure that the hospital staff thought I was more hurt than I was. Playing sick kept a roof over my head, got me round the clock pain meds, and I could order whatever food I wanted. The staff was kind, and they treated me well. It was the first time in a long time I felt safe and slept through the night.

“I repaid them all by sneaking out in the middle of third shift, but not before I went into the staff lounge and took all their wallets from their purses. I hit their cart on the way out, stealing a drawer of painkillers. I’m sure someone lost their job over that stunt.”

It was the first time he paused, and I could tell he was reliving that night. He looked broken…overcome with grief by his own actions. Enthralled, I said nothing, for fear he’d stop before I heard everything. My mind was effectively blown to hear the struggles he’d gone through, which made my own stories seem like child’s play.

Moments later he continued. “The drugs kept me going until I got down to Florida. In The Sunshine State, I scammed tourists for what money I could, begging on boardwalks to get the money I needed to feed the monkey on my back.

“Florida was a constant reminder of all I’d lost. Vacationing families playing in the sand. Fathers and daughters sampling toffee on the boardwalk. I wondered about you all the time…what you were doing, if you were happy, if your mom had met someone…if you had a new father to take you on roller coasters or buy you souvenirs. I finally got someone to show me how to search the internet at a cyber cafe, but I couldn’t locate your mom, so I assumed she’d remarried.

“The only solace I found was in the bottom of a bottle. My crimes got more flagrant the more I drank. I’m not sure if I ever would have stopped, but then one day I stole a wallet from a tourist sleeping on the beach. I watched as he and his wife had a panic attack about how they were going to get home. They were screaming at each other, and it all came back to me. Your mom…me. Then I saw their little girl, sitting on the sand nearby. Their little brown haired girl who couldn’t have been more than five. She had a little red polka dot swimsuit like the one you had, do you remember it?”

I shook my head, having no idea what he was talking about.

He smiled distantly. “Yeah, you were probably too young to remember it. Anyway, that little girl had her hands over her ears, like she was trying to block out their shouting.

“Seeing her, the uncanny resemblance to you…it broke me. I couldn’t just walk away. I gave the wallet to the little girl and left Florida just a few minutes ahead of the cops. I hitched my way around the gulf, trying to outrun the memories somehow. I finally ended up in Galveston. I stayed there for a long time, doing a little temp work. Same day cash, no questions, no paper trail. I was determined I was done taking things that didn’t belong to me. I wanted to get by on hard work, but I still found myself taking leftovers off of people’s abandoned trays at restaurants just to keep myself fed.

“That was until the hurricane came through. I fled north along with all the other refugees, managed to grab a ride with a church bus. It was on that bus that I met Father Yancy. He was an old salt like me and recognized me for the lost soul that I was.

“He asked me to come with him to the shelter they were destined for. He was the reason that I tried, this last time, to get clean. His interest in me restored some sliver of my faith in humanity. I stayed in the shelter, attended the meetings and sobered up. But the shelters here were crowded before the exodus from the hurricane. After all of the refuges, people were packed in like sardines. I moved to an abandoned hotel nearby, to clear at least one bed for a woman or child. The hotel was something…like a window to an older, more elegant era. I had the place to myself for a long time. Most of the homeless believed it was haunted. No one had the heart or the urgency to tear the place down. So I stayed. I kept going to meetings and hanging around the shelter, and Austin became my new home.

“After a few years of living in the old hotel, a construction crew turned up. Someone had purchased the place with the idea of restoring it. That’s where I met Joe, who was working construction with Mason and Mac. Later, Molly rolled up in her new food truck and parked it out front. She and I hit it off, and she decided to see to it that I got something to eat every day. Because of my friendship with her, I got Joe’s attention. With his help, I went from being a broken man who was just barely clinging to sobriety, to a new man who could hold his head up. For the first time since I left home, I could think about more than where my next meal was coming from because those two took an interest in me.

When I got a phone, I called Aunt Susan and I think the only reason she took my call was that I didn’t call her collect. I told her my story, and she challenged me on every last thing that I said. She kept me on the phone for hours, grilling me, waiting for me to screw up. In the end, she looked up Good Wood on the internet and called the store.

Joe talked to her for quite a while, then she asked to speak to me again. In the end, she realized how serious I was about getting my life back together. She never would have given me your number if she didn’t believe that I was turning things around.”

He went silent, and watched me expectantly. I fidgeted, unable to process even a fraction of what I’d just heard.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I managed. I realized I was clinging to a throw pillow as if it were some sort of shield against his tale, and I tossed it aside,

He stood, and sighed deeply, and I figured he must have felt fifty pounds lighter, because his story had me feeling that much heavier.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe I should have stayed dead. That might have been the kindest thing I could have done. But I love you, darlin’. I never stopped. Not a sober day passed that I didn’t think of you. I know I’ve hurt you, and I may never be welcome in your life. But I’m truly sorry that I wasn’t there for you. You don’t know how much I wish I could change it all.”

When Mac showed up, I was waiting for him on the couch. Though my make-up was on point and not a hair was out of place, inside I was a hot mess. I’d tried to push all of Dad’s junk aside, not wanting it to color our long overdue first date. Even so, moments of it kept oozing out into the forefront of my mind.

Mac looked amazing in his casual jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt. One look at him and I knew I’d overdressed. I had opted to go with the skirt and the heels, injured toe or not. I figured at the time it would be worth the pain to see the look on Mac’s chiseled face.

“Damn, you’re beautiful.” He leaned on the doorframe, and spent a full minute taking me in as if I were a sunset or a painting in a museum.

I liked it. A lot. I really did. A couple of hours before, I would have loved it. I probably would have reveled in it. When I didn’t, I should have called the date off because my response was a flashing hazard sign that I wasn’t in the right state of mind. But I was desperate to feel good, so I ignored those early warnings. As far as I was concerned, Mac equaled good, and I deserved some good. So I dismissed my mood as unimportant. Ancient history was just that, and it was not going to put a damper on my evening.

“As much as I hate to say this, you’d better change out of that skirt.” He told me, his eyes meandering from my ankles up to the place that the hem hit my thigh. I blinked at him in disbelief and he frowned regretfully.

“I brought my bike.”

Within minutes, I’d changed into plan B, and we headed down the stairs. I bit back a snarky comment as I stuffed my hard earned good hair day into his helmet, and once again I found my cheek pressed to his back as we whipped through the streets of Austin. It occurred to me only after we were zipping through traffic that I should have suggested we take my car. My mind reeled with my father’s tales and the way they measured up with the version of reality I knew from my mother. The stories didn’t exactly jive, but oddly, Francis’s had the ring of truth. It didn’t absolve him of his sins, or make him less of a fuck up, but it sure didn’t paint mom in the role of the victim that she was so fond of.

All those times she screamed at me in the car, telling me things I didn’t want to hear about him. When I came home smelling like schnapps, her thundering at me that I’d be just like him if I wasn’t careful. How she made me retake the SAT, because I hadn’t worked hard enough, just like him. How it was “just like a Palmer” for me to cut myself so much slack and lose sight of the prize.

Mac came to a stop, and I felt the impact of his kickstand. I loosened my grip on him and sat up. We were parked alongside of a tiny white building that looked like a Vegas wedding chapel. I looked around at the seedy area and cocked an eyebrow as I removed his helmet. I wondered just how badly it had destroyed my hairdo, and tried not to fret about it.

“I hope you like hot dogs.” Mac said, and the statement was so jarring after where my mind had been that I assumed it was some euphemism for a particular part of his anatomy. The remark wasn’t up to his usual standards of wit, and I made no comment in response.

“What is this place?” I narrowed my eyes at the rundown little building. I could hear the familiar sound of a steel guitar, but the building didn’t seem big enough for line dancing.

“You’ll see,” he smirked, offering me his hand. We rounded the building, and I read the lettering over the front door. A homemade sign with a large long horn symbol spanned the middle of the chapel-esque facade. It read “LITTLE LONGHORN SALOON.” Off to the left, in tiny black letters, someone had added “Welcome to Ginny’s.”

My eyes slid sideways to Mac, who looked incredibly pleased with himself as he pulled me inside, out of the sunlight.

“Hey there, handsome!” the woman seated just inside the door greeted Mac with a giant smile.

“Mary.” Mac nodded, his deep voice muffled slightly by the bluesy music reverberating off the walls. “How’s Sissy today?”

“She’s rowdy and ready to put on a show.” She giggled, as if there were some inside joke between them. “Y’all want tickets?”

“Sure do.” He replied, his deep voice sounding a bit like Sam Elliot in Tombstone. I loved listening to him talk and was already wishing we’d gone somewhere quieter so we could have some real conversation. I wanted so badly to tell him about my dad’s visit, to use him as a sounding board for the questions it raised. Upon further reflection, I’d probably used up all of his patience Friday night, and he’d most likely decided to bring me someplace loud so he didn’t have to listen to any more of my sob stories.

Mac pulled out his wallet, and Mary seemed to notice me out of the corner of her eye. She whipped her head in my direction, and she got the strangest expression on her face as she looked me over. I suddenly felt incredibly insecure. I wasn’t sure what about my appearance caused the middle aged woman to react so strongly, but I smiled awkwardly in hopes I’d win her over. She smiled back pleasantly enough.

“You’d better get back out there and grab some dogs. The first bunch are coming off the grill now.” Tucking his money away she handed him a few sheets of paper. Mac folded them and tucked them into his back pocket then pulled me back outside.

“Why did she look at me like that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I never bring anyone when I come to Ginny’s.”

As he pulled me to the other side of the parking lot, I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or embarrassed.

“Where are we g—” I started to ask, but as we walked around to the left side of the building, I saw an oversized grill and several casually dressed people milling around.

“Hey, Mac!” the man operating the grill called out, smiling widely. It seemed everyone in Austin was familiar with my date.

‘Hey!” Mac waved, slipping an arm around me. The man gestured to a tray of franks. “We’ve got all the fixings. Help yourself.”

“How do you take yours?” Mac asked, and I realized he’d literally been referring to these when he mentioned hot dogs.

I had asked him to surprise me.

Apparently he’s an overachiever.

I realized he was still waiting for a response. Speechless, I glanced at the spread of condiments laid out. I hadn’t eaten a hot dog since I was a kid, and honestly I’d never been a fan. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I improvised.

“Anything but onions.” I blurted. As far downhill as this day had gone, I was still holding out hope for kissing later and didn’t want it ruined by nasty breath.

“No onions!” The man behind the grill cried, as if I’d just proclaimed the world was flat or that the moon landing was all filmed on a sound stage in Hollywood.

“Onions make everything better.” Mac agreed, slathering his first dog with a large pile of them. I tried not to cringe, and I quickly busied myself pouring a little ketchup on the bun on my plate.

Once we were back inside, Mac led me to a small table near the far end of bar. The interior of the place was a far cry nicer than I expected, and though it was smaller than the place we’d been in when he was line dancing with the blonde, it was a huge step up from it.

“Is this alright?” he asked. “Or do you want to move closer to the dance floor?”

“This is fine,” I replied, forcing a smile. I wanted to be able to hear him, and dancing was the last thing I wanted to think about today. I frowned when I realized that Francis’s stories had left a fresh bruise on every memory of my parents, making me question if anything I remembered had a shred of truth to it.

Mac’s smile faltered, and I felt bad. I wasn’t being good company. I needed to think of something worth talking about and fast. “How’s your son doing? Did you have a good visit?”

His frown deepened, and discomfort appeared on his handsome face. We’d never talked about Mac Junior, other than when Mac had confirmed his existence.

“It was fine.” His tone was unusually curt, and it effectively closed the conversation.

Well, I guess that subject is off limits. Now what?

He reached for his hotdog, and I snatched my phone off of the table.

“Oh, I need to get a shot of this.” I smirked, trying to liven up the mood. Mac grinned suddenly, and then fixed a mock serious expression on his face as he posed with the overdressed dog. I quickly tagged him as I posted it to Facebook, captioning the post “Onion Dogs and First Dates. #nokissingforyou”

The waitress brought our beers and Mac brought up the topic of Molly and Joe’s house hunt. He explained that Molly was freaking out that she’d have to try to manage two babies in a second story apartment. He had concerns that they’d hurry into a house they weren’t happy with just because she was panicking. He went on to say that Joe was burning himself out working constantly in the shop. They’d finally hired a new guy, Nick, and Mac thought he was a mistake too.

“The kid’s got more piercings than the villain from Hellraiser,” he said.

“Who?”

“Hellraiser? Pinhead? Oh…you’re probably too young to remember that movie.” He rolled his eyes, and I realized that I was officially the bimbo who didn’t get her date’s reference. Before I could dwell on the remark, he continued. “And he hit on Molly at his interview. Molly, who already looks like she’s about to drop a baby any moment now. And Joe hired him anyway! I’m starting to wonder if his mind has finally snapped.” He sipped from his mug of beer. He had foam all over his mustache, and I bit back a smile.

“What?”

I reached out and dabbed at him with a napkin. His eyes darkened, and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. I don’t know what it was about a man’s neck, but I’ve always found it incredibly sexy.

He started to speak, but the music stopped and the man behind the microphone announced they were bringing out Sissy, and that we should all give her a round of applause.

“That’s us.” Mac perked up. “Come on. Bring your beer.”

He pulled the papers he had tucked into his pocket out and picked up his mug, scooting out of the booth. I grabbed my mug and followed suit. Our hotdogs were gone, so we didn’t have anything else to carry. My phone chimed, and I saw that Annette, Molly, Robin, Jerry, and some girl from high school had all liked my picture of Mac.

We wandered toward a large table I’d been too self-absorbed to notice when we’d first come in. A woman was stuffing a live chicken into a wire cage atop the table, and people were gathering around with sheets of paper that I realized were some sort of bingo cards.

“What is all this?” I called to Mac over the ambient noise.

“Chicken Shit Bingo,” he replied.

I laughed nervously, assuming he was kidding. Then the man with the mic confirmed it. “Gather round, y’all! Wherever Sissy does her business is the winning square!”

Mac started to explain the origin of the game, and I flushed. A looming feeling of humiliation overtook me. I hadn’t given him a very good impression if this was where he’d decided to bring me. He seemed completely relaxed, and it dawned on me that he didn’t care if he impressed me. Considering all the time I’d put into getting presentable for him, it was pretty clear we were on way different wavelengths. I could feel my heart hammering, and I kicked myself for misreading the situation so badly.

My phone chimed again, and as I put it on silent, I noticed my mother had commented on my Facebook post. I tapped the alert to see she’d said. “My, what a handsome fella! Make sure to run an extra mile if he’s treating you to one of those!”

My blood boiled, and I was sure my hotdog was about to come back up all over Sissy and her fabulous bingo board. Mom always loved to rub my former fat kid in my face. She had a knack for turning harmless fun into a stomach full of boiling acid. As I stood awkwardly between other excited patrons, I reexamined my date through the ‘Kelly’ filter, and I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I quickly deleted the post from Facebook, deciding I’d rather forget the entire experience and didn’t need anyone else knowing about it.

The fact that he actually thought that this place would be somewhere to take anyone on a date showed how very different we were. I stepped back from the cage.

“Excuse me, I need to use the ladies room.” I cut Mac off mid-story, and the look of concern on his face made me feel even more nauseated. Blindly stumbling away toward the bathroom, I screeched when a large man stepped back from the bar and onto my injured toe. He tried to apologize, but tears sprung to my eyes; and I hobbled away and locked myself in the restroom. Now that I’d had a moment to think, I felt a little teary anyway, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. This thing with Mac was going nowhere fast, and I was unprepared for how much the reality of that disappointed me.

Sitting in the odorous bathroom stall of the little hokey tonk, I knew I should have stayed home. I kept thinking about my father and how I’d hurried him out the door to get ready for this sorry date. Once more, I tried to fight back the bile that was building in my gut. My priorities were totally fucked up. It took a minute for me to get myself together, then the real panic set in.

How am I going to get out of here? Think, Kelly! Think!

Pulling out my phone, my eyes settled on the Austin Cab application, and the weight fell from my shoulders. Jerry had insisted that I download it so I could catch a ride whenever we went out drinking. Opening up the app, I selected the pickup option. I saw there was a cab nearby. Once the app showed me that my fare was accepted and the cab was pulling up outside, I went back out into the bar.

I dropped some money on the table for the beers and went to find Mac. A cougar in tights jeans and an AC/DC t-shirt had his attention, and that typical panty- dropping grin was on his face. I approached just in time to hear him say “Nah, we’re just friends.”

I was livid. To think I’d spent one second concerned with this man’s opinion filled me with blinding rage. Mac wasn’t serious about us; that much was obvious, and based on the way he’d dismissed the girl at the line dancing bar, I’d joined his little black book of girls he could take or leave as the mood suited.

I had to go, to get as far away from this place as the cab driver would take me before I ended up on Cops or Maury Povich.

“Mac,” I called, and he jumped about a foot in the air when he realized I was standing right there watching him flirt with the next notch on his belt. “I’m not feeling well. I’m heading out.”

“Wait,” he said, turning to set down his beer. I ignored him and rushed out to the cab. I heard him trailing after me shouting over the crowd, but before he could catch up, I was in the cab.

“Drive,” I blurted, when I saw Mac had followed me out of the bar. I couldn’t even bring myself to wave to him as we pulled away.

MURPHY’S LAW SEEMS to have a standing reservation to mess with my ass. Since high school, that little demon has tried to make me its personal bitch. Nearly burning down Granny’s garage the first time Mason and I snuck a cigarette was a good example. She took a switch to us, and that was nothing compared to what we got when Dad found out.

The one time I actually drank during high school, the superintendent dropped by for a surprise visit. That got me suspended for a week and more than one whack with a wooden spoon at home from Mom. Then there was what I laughingly refer to as my marriage. Other than my boy, that entire experience was textbook Murphy’s Law. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

Still, I’d go through it all over again if it gave me Mac Junior. Truth be told, I’ve gone through more shit with Patty since the divorce than I did during our short time as man and wife. She’s had a lot of problems over the years, and her problems usually ended up as my problems.

When I first met Patricia, she was the only bartender I’d ever met who didn’t drink. I thought it was funny at the time, and that very first night, I teased her into doing a shot with me. I figured it was a harmless icebreaker. She was hot, and I was trying to get into her pants.

It wasn’t long before I understood exactly why she didn’t drink. She was a lightweight, and when you added even a pinch of liquor, she transformed into a wild animal. We went out for a smoke on her break, and the next thing I knew she had me pinned up against the side of the building with her hands down my pants. It was plain to me that she knew what she was doing, and at the time, I considered it a major victory. In retrospect, that simple decision to go out back with her was probably the biggest mistake of my life.

For three weeks straight, I repeated my tactics, sitting at the end of her bar, telling her dirty jokes while Mason lost us game after game of pool. Patty was really something to look at back then, before she had bleached her hair blonde and taken to three-day benders. She was bubbly and fun and had an infectious laugh that I did my damnedest to hear as often as possible. Soon, other patrons were buying her drinks so they could see her dance on tables and do tricks with the bottles while she poured. Patricia wasn’t above doing body shots with me for all the world to see, and then she’d stumble around spilling drinks on people and generally being useless as an employee.

One night, her boss caught on when he stopped by to pick up the deposit, and she was on top of the pool table actin’ a fool. He canned her on the spot, and I gave her a ride home. She asked me inside, gave me a ride of her own, and the rest was history. By then she was a hardcore partier, just like me.

I sometimes wonder if I hadn’t pushed the booze thing, if she would have turned out to be a raging drunk. Guilt, and MJ had kept her in my life long after I’d have given her the boot. It may have all started out as fun and games, but the amusement ended years ago. All that was left were obligations.

In the past year, I’d had to bail her out of jail twice. She has run the gambit of illegal stupidity. Bounced checks and driving off without paying for gasoline. The second offense was what I spent Saturday morning cleaning up. Mac Junior had been with Patty, and the arresting officer was nice enough to let him call me on their way to the station.

When I arrived, Junior was seated at a desk with a uniformed female officer. He was drawing her a picture and wearing her police hat. The sympathetic way she looked at my son was nearly as upsetting as the cheerfully undisturbed reaction he’d had when he saw me approaching.

“Dad! I got to ride in a police car!” M.J. gushed. “I even got to turn on the siren.”

“That was supposed to be our little secret,” the officer reminded him, and Mac Junior gave her a flirty smile that would have made me proud any other day.

It killed me when the kid got caught in the middle. I did my best to keep him from knowing as much as I could, but he was a smart boy. I had decided not to pay Patty’s bail that time and let her spend the night in jail. I figured mom could watch M.J. while I was out on my date if necessary. When I told Mac Junior this, he shrugged.

“Bill will get her out,” he said, stuffing a potato chip in his mouth. A bag of chips was another thing he’d conned out of the officer before I’d arrived.

“Who’s Bill?” I asked.

“Mommy’s ‘special friend,’” he replied. I started to feel my blood pumping. I knew where this conversation was going, and I knew I’d end up pissed off.

“Have you met this Bill guy?” I asked, keeping my voice jovial. Junior took a long drink of his can of Big Red and smacked his lips.

“Yeah. He comes over for sleepovers a lot. Mommy locks her bedroom door, and I have to knock if I need her.”

Not that the boy would have known it from my outward appearance, but I was beyond pissed. I didn’t give a shit who Patty screwed, but the last time I’d had a girlfriend, she had been a raging bitch about it. When I was seeing Molly’s cashier, Stacy, Patty had filed paperwork with her lawyer to enforce a ‘morality clause’. Stacy wasn’t allowed to be at my place when I had Mac Junior from 9:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Luckily, Stacy and I were pretty casual, but it was a cheap shot by Patty. Her sneaking around with this Bill fellow showed what a hypocritical bitch I’d been married to. I decided it might be time for me to get a lawyer again, if for no other reason than to keep Patty’s psycho ass in check.

When I talked to Mom about watching M.J. later that day, she got very excited. She’ been wanting to take M.J. to The Thinkery, which she informed me was the Children’s Museum. As soon as I mentioned it to Junior, he was psyched about it. I love nothing more than to see him interested in using his brain.

The next day, when I dropped MJ off, my mother was ready for me. The interrogation began before I even set MJ’s bag down on the kitchen table.

“So who’s this girl you have a date with?” Mom asked. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes that let me know I was in for some shit. Ruffling M.J.’s hair, I waited for him to run off into the house before turning to face her.

“Why do you want to know?”

She shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance that was totally forced.

“Molly says she’s pretty. She says you actually like her. And she says she’s too nice for you.” I felt my face get hot.

Nothing like the loving support of your family.

“Molly has a big fucking mouth.”

“Malcolm!” Mom smacked me with the newspaper, and I snorted. Granny came in from the other room, like a shark sensing blood in the water.

“Malcolm’s got a date? Is there a hooker convention in town?” I resisted the urge to tell the old bird off.

“Mother,” Mom said in a scandalized tone.

“Her name’s Kelly. She’s Francis’s daughter. She’s a teacher at M.J.’s school. She is nice. And very pretty. And I do like her. And everyone needs to back the hell off and leave me alone.”

“You just keep it in your pants, Malcolm.” Granny Hildebrandt demanded. “You have a baby to think about.”

“He’s not a baby; he’s seven, Granny.” I snapped. “And he’s always my number- one priority.”

“Good to hear it,” Granny sniped, plopping down in her recliner and flipping on Fox News.

I rushed home to get ready for my date with Kelly, but I kept thinking about what Granny had said. Kelly was a teacher, so she surely liked kids. Insecure, I wondered if I should introduce her to M.J., but it seemed a little early in the game for that. I didn’t want to disappoint him if something happened with Kelly, and I didn’t want to scare Kelly off either.

I’d already decided to take Kelly to Ginny’s, since it was more than dinner (which I felt was boring and cliché) and not a movie (where you can’t talk). After our conversation the other night about her dad, I thought she might like to have a little fun, so Chicken Shit Bingo seemed like a light-hearted option. I wasn’t prepared for how bad a choice it was.

When I picked her up, she was done up for a real date. I kicked myself for not dressing nicer, and not having a reservation for some darkly lit French restaurant with decadent desserts. Her legs looked stunning in a skirt and heels, and I felt stupid for not bringing my truck instead of my bike. I tried to play it off casually, but I already had the vibe that I’d disappointed her.

Later, when I ran into Monica while Kelly was in the ladies’ room, I went into immediate damage-control mode. Monica was Patty’s best friend, and I hadn’t seen her since shortly after the divorce from Patty. Monica slithered up to me nice as can be and started her heavy handed 007 routine.

“Who’s that pretty young thing you came in with, Macster? New lady in your life?” She smiled her yellow smoker’s grin that made me glad I’d finally quit the cancer sticks.

I made the spontaneous decision to lie my ass off. With Patty and her morality clause bullshit, I wasn’t about to have her or any of her spies knowing my business. I’m no idiot: Monica would have Patty on the phone before Kelly and I left the bar. My good intentions ended up paving my road to hell.

“Nah. She’s just I friend.” I lied, and as luck (or Murphy’s Law) would have it, Kelly appeared next to Monica. I wanted to roll back time, but I could tell by the look on her face that Kelly had heard enough.

I chased after her, but she jumped into a cab in the parking lot. That stopped me in my tracks. The waiting cab told me two things. One: she already hated the date enough to leave, and two: she didn’t even want me to take her home. I’ll admit that it was a kick in the ass. More than anything, I’d wanted to show her a good time and take her mind off of the drama with her dad, or at the very least, give her a shoulder to cry on again, if that’s what she needed.

I’d been tempted to fuck her senseless a couple of nights before. She was so beautiful, and she tasted amazing. Until that make-out session, I worried that she might be all form, no substance. A lot of beautiful girls just lie there and look good and expect that to be enough. But I could tell by the way Kelly moved and by her incredible enthusiasm on the couch, that I’d misjudged her terribly.

The problem was that by that point I really liked her. Hearing the shit she went through as a kid made me want to take her to my house and guard her like the princess in that Mario Brothers game. I needed to take things slower. I wasn’t just going to fuck her and move on now that I knew her like I did.

I’d tried to call Kelly a couple of times since Bingo and texted her several messages. I got no response at all. After a few days passed with no response, I figured I’d go over and explain myself. She either wasn’t home that night, or she was actually hiding from me.

The holidays were a welcome distraction. My entire family had a Thanksgiving getaway planned with Joe’s family, a sort of “Sorry y’all are knocked up, and she’s refusing to marry you” kind of deal. Joe’s sister, Tamryn, and her husband Robbie were hosting all of us at their ranch out in Driftwood, and I decided I could use the fresh air to think the whole Kelly thing over.

Going to Tamryn Jensen-Wright’s house is not something you do lightly. These people operate on a completely different level than my family does. When the day is also a mash up of the Jensen/Hildebrandt clans, it’s best approached through a haze of alcohol.

Mason planned to pick up M.J. on his way out of town, so I took the opportunity to ride out on my bike. I’d never been up to Tamryn’s digs, but the memory of Joe’s parent’s place was forever branded into my brain. I’d never been around that much money until Joe started running with my brother and me, and the first time we crashed at his house was like visiting a four-star resort. I’d had dreams about being in a place like the Jensen’s; but it’d been the Playboy mansion, and I was surrounded by bunnies.

The closer I got to Tamryn’s, the more I understood just how much money Robbie Wright had. The houses kept getting bigger and bigger, some larger than small hotels. One had an entire driveway that looked like it was made out of high end marble squares.

By the time I pulled my Harley into their circular driveway, I was starting to feel a little bit Beverly Hillbilly. As I rang the doorbell, which probably cost a few months of my salary, I realized why Tamz always had an unattainable air about her when I hit on her as a kid. That girl had been going places, and she’d known it.

I was glad when Molly answered the door, ‘cause if it had been a butler, I’d have been tempted to jump back on my bike.

The room I was staying in was the size of my living room. At least it gave me a place to hide out until I adjusted to the idea of being in Buckingham Fucking Palace. I guess I wasn’t the only one whose nerves were jangled. Molly and Joe both seemed anxious and out of sorts.

I made Joe drink a beer with me in hopes of loosening him up, but his mother called him out of the room for a private powwow, and I gave up and wandered out to the heated pool.

Joe’s parents had cut him off after high school, when he refused to go off to pursue a pre-law degree. They’d basically abandoned him right when he was going out into the world. When he met his first wife, Jessica, they’d mended fences a bit, but after she died in an accident, Joe was in no condition to be around anyone. His parents vanished on him again, though with the way he’d dissolved, it was hardly surprising.

It was a blessing that they hadn’t been around for the times it got really bad. When he’d been so drunk he’d broken into the house he’d owned with Jess. Luckily, the guy who’d bought the place was an antiques dealer I knew, and he called me instead of the cops. I dragged Joe’s sorry ass out, promising to fix the door frame he’d obliterated. Seeing him that out of it, sobbing for Jess and his baby boy haunted me even now.

It was hard to stomach watching Joe’s parents trying to play the doting mother and father now. It bugged me that they’d be grandparents to Molly’s babies, and I was afraid I’d lose my catered dinner all over their designer shoes if their posturing went on much longer. I stepped outside to get some country air and check on M.J., who was still in the pool. I swear that kid is part dolphin.

The pool was the fucking American dream on a cracker with caviar, and the kids begged to swim for another hour. Mom and Tamryn’s husband had it under control, so I went back in and dished myself up some desert. Then my grandmother opened her mouth and stepped in it.

The old bat had been hard on Molly since she hit puberty. As always, Molly took her barbs quietly, but this time things went down a bit differently. Granny told Molly to step away from the sweet stuff, telling her she was gonna get a fat ass. I probably shouldn’t have laughed, but old habits don’t die easily.

Joe flipped out and unloaded on Granny for disrespecting Molly. Tamryn tried to intervene, and he started in on her and her overbearing advice. Then he turned on everyone in the entire room one by one. I was secretly glad to see him get stuff off his chest after watching him stew for months. Of course, I would have liked it better if he hadn’t had a choice bit of advice for me as well.

“...if you like the girl, you should tell her. God knows, you aren’t getting any younger.”

Love him, or hate him, Joe Jensen knew how to cut through the bullshit.

That night I tossed and turned thinking about the Kelly situation. I hadn’t had a girl on my mind so much since Patty, and that had been such a massive mistake that the correlation made me automatically want to walk away. I picked up my phone to text her and then I remembered the angry way she’d flipped her hair as she hopped into the cab, and I tossed the phone onto the bedside table.

The next morning, I took off right after breakfast. Angry Joe or no…I wasn’t missing Molly’s cooking. The girl made pancakes like no other. Crispy on the edges (from cooking with bacon grease on a cast iron skillet), and smothered in butter and Karo syrup. They were like heaven on fine china, and my sister’s candied bacon assured that me that I’d never be confined in a nursing home, since I was sure to die from a heart attack long before my time.

I wasn’t surprised when Joe called me later that holiday weekend. I could read between the lines that he regretted his outburst. The truth was that he’d chewed his sister Tamryn’s ass way worse than anyone’s, and that was going to be a tough bridge to repair. He offered to take me and Mason out to make up for things. He rambled on about something else, but I wasn’t really listening. He had me at ‘beer.’

I rounded up Mason, and we all met at Banger’s. Joe apologized, we apologized, and we moved the fuck on. We drank some beer, chowed down on way too much processed meat, and I got to hear the guys’ perspective on my failed date with Kelly. Both Joe and Mason agreed that I was an idiot for taking her to Ginny’s. They told me to beg for a Mulligan and to step up my game.

A little while later, some past piece of ass sent some pretty boys after Joe to start a fight. A bar brawl ensued, and I got to take out my frustration on several little pissants. The Austin PD showed up, and we were nearly hauled off to jail. Luckily, many witnesses stepped up to say we were minding our own business when The New Kids on the Block came looking to rumble. While the cops were sorting things out, Mason confided in us that Robin had had a recent breast cancer scare. I was pissed that they had kept this from me, but then I realized I hadn’t really been making myself available to anyone lately. It was a wake-up call and reinforced the fact that I needed to quit being so self-involved. If the closest people in my family didn’t feel like they could confide in me, I wasn’t being a very good brother.

Mason said Robin had found a lump a couple of months before, and they hadn’t told anyone. Mason claimed they’d been worried about the stress it would cause Molly, since her pregnancy was high risk. As for Joe, he was still reeling from the news of the twins. With his past history, they figured he was trying to sort out enough without adding their shit. They didn’t tell me because they thought I’d blab to Joe.

Once the cops let us go, my brother and I cabbed it back to Mason’s. He looked pretty surprised when I followed him into the house. Robin was kicked back in the recliner drinking a glass of wine and watching Bravo. She took one look at our beat up faces, sighed, and slowly set her glass down.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Flipping her foot rest down, she went into full nurse mode. While she gathered her first aid kit, I followed after her. I needed to hear from her that she was really okay after the bomb Mason had dropped.

I’d been a fan of Robin since she’d first taken care of Mason’s stupid ass in the ER. He’d been riding on an inner-tube while I pulled him behind the boat. He refused to put down his beer can. I’d been drinking a little myself, and I thought it would be a good idea to play ‘crack the whip’. I jammed the throttle down and whipped a tight turn by the beach. Mason lost his one handed grip on the rope, went flying into the shore, and came to an abrupt halt when he hit a metal garbage can. To his credit, he somehow didn’t spill a drop of beer. Dad had to drive us both to the hospital, since he was the only sober adult around.

Robin hurried into the exam room, all blonde and sassy and uninterested in taking any crap. Mason waggled his eyebrows at me when she wasn’t looking, and I busted a gut. She looked like Marilyn Monroe in black scrubs, and Mason was practically drooling on her when she assessed him.

When she started his IV, Mason winced like a little bitch and joked that she was the Angel of Death, not the Angel of Mercy. He asked for a sponge bath, and she told him she’d be back with a Brillo pad. Later, she returned to take his blood pressure. I’d been trying to find something to watch on television. I’m not sure what happened, but Mason winced loudly, and Robin told him to watch his hands or she’d give him an enema. Mason called her a kinky little minx as she left the room, and by the time the doctor decided he didn’t have any more brain damage than he’d been born with, Mason had Robin’s phone number in his wallet.

Thinking back on all the times Robin had saved my bacon with Mac Junior (since my ex-wife was useless as tits on a boar), I got a little sentimental and gave her a big bear hug accompanied by a loud kiss on the cheek. She eyed me with suspicion, and her usual saucy disapproval.

“Are you drunk or something?” she asked, her frown lines appearing instantly. “If you drove my husband here while intoxicated so help me Malcolm—”

“We took a cab,” I replied. “Your husband told me about the lump.”

Her face softened, and she looked a little surprised. “Oh.”

“Explain how you know everything’s okay.” I insisted.

“They did a diagnostic mammogram and a biopsy,” she replied, and I could see relief radiate from her as if she were outlined in neon. “It was benign.”

“Shouldn’t you get a second opinion or something?”

“Settle down, McDreamy. I’m a friggin’ nurse. I know when to worry and when not to.”

“Good.” I kissed her on top of her bleached-blonde head. “Nothing better happen to you. You’re like the sister I always wanted before I got saddled with Molly.”

“Shut up, Mac.” She slapped me on the arm, but she was grinning as she did it.

After that night, things were pretty much back to normal all the way around. I threw myself back into making money, but Kelly was never far from my thoughts. Since her revelations about her childhood, I’d had a hard time being around Francis, and I’d been extra thankful that Joe had hired Nick so he could run interference.

Molly signed her franchise deal for her restaurant, not only for a brick and mortar version of Wrapgasmic in Galveston, but one in New Orleans as well. It seemed to take some pressure off of Joe, knowing The Kid could stay home with her feet up. She’d be making lots of money without lifting a finger now that Robbie Wright had helped her iron out a solid contract. Knowing my sister like I did, I doubted she’d take advantage of the situation. She was a Hildebrandt, and we can’t ever just sit.

Kelly didn’t come around the shop at all, but I did catch sight of her at Parent Night at M. J.’s school. I couldn’t approach her; Patty was there with me and that combination would have been disastrous. I don’t think Kelly noticed me, anyway. She was at the other end of the hall, and she seemed entirely focused on her students. I didn’t want to cause an issue at her job, but seeing her like that, all pretty smiles in a long red dress, made it hard to stay away. She looked especially beautiful with all those adoring kids around her, and bearing witness to it was like rock salt in a gaping wound.

When I got a moment to breathe, Kelly usually slipped into my thoughts. With Joe burning the candle at both ends, I’d stepped up to take on extra work. Between that and M.J., about the only time I had to myself was the short period before I fell asleep each night. That was when the memories of that ruinous date tormented me. Saddened about how things had ended between us, I would lie there brooding before falling into dreams about her.

I didn’t see Kelly again until a few weeks later when Molly and Joe moved into their new house. Mason and I were trying to help, and my sister was a bundle of hate and hormones. I was about to chew her out when Francis walked in with Kelly. They had their hands full, carrying a bunch of pizzas and some cases of Coke.

I’d thought that seeing her at Parent’s Night was hard, but coming face to face with Kelly in the intimate foyer of Molly and Joe’s cottage knocked the wind out of me. She’d come ready to help in worn jeans, her hair pulled back in a braid. The sight of her, glossy lips with a light bead of sweat on her brow, was intoxicating. The memory of how she smelled and the tasted flooded my mind. She was water-boarding me just being in the same room. When she spotted me, she couldn’t leave my presence fast enough. She hurried out into the back yard, and in a fit of frustration, I nearly ran after her in front of my entire family. I wanted to lock her in a room until she talked to me, but kidnapping is a serious offense in these parts.

Francis evidently picked up on her horror (and my psychosis), because he cornered me in the house when everyone else was outside eating.

“Mac,” he started. “Can we talk?”

“Do we have to?” I ran a hand over my beard and sighed.

“I’d appreciate it. I think we have someone’s mutual interest at heart. Or at least I hope we do.”

I had no desire to have a heart-to-heart with Francis. But it would have been rude to ignore him, and I had made enough of a spectacle of myself for the day. I nodded.

“Son,” Francis said quietly, “I know I’m probably the last person you think should be offering advice on just about any topic under the sun. But if you really like her, try to do right by her. Please give it your all. She’s been failed by everyone she should have been able to rely on.”

Stunned, I peered at him with nothing but admiration. His self-awareness was humbling. This seemed to bolster his confidence, and he proceeded.

“That is one kind-hearted girl out there in the backyard, and she’s got a lot of love to give.” Francis’s dark eyes glistened as he spoke about his daughter.

I can’t remember ever feeling as awkward or embarrassed, but I met his eyes. He wasn’t wrong. I knew Kelly was special. I’d known it since our beer run the night after we met. Truth be told, I probably knew it a hell of a lot better than he did.

“Now, I don’t know what happened. All I know is she seemed excited that you were taking her out, and she’s been awfully quiet ever since.”

I exhaled, as if the world was resting on my chest. “Francis, listen—”

“No, you listen. I stopped by her apartment that day to talk and she was getting all dolled up for you.”

This was news I hadn’t expected. “What?”

The charged look he shot me shut me up.

“I owed her some answers. I made a lot of mistakes…caused her a lot of pain over the years. I let her down, Mac. I can never take that back. Her life has been a lot harder than it needed to be because I wasn’t strong enough. I have no right to ask it of you, but I will anyway. If you don’t really have serious intentions, you ought to do the right thing and stay away.”

I opened my mouth to protest, and he held up his hand.

“If you are serious about her, you need to prove it. Her school is looking for volunteers to help with some facility projects. That kinda stuff is easy for you. I think the gesture would mean a whole lot to her.”

The day ended without the conversation I wanted to have with Kelly. I tried to call her a couple more times, but she never answered. I was convinced she’d changed her number, but I didn’t have the guts to ask Francis for her new one.

On the day of Molly’s baby shower, I showed up to meet Mason and Joe. As much of a team player as Joe is, he’d declined to be a part of the hen fest. We thought the shower would be a great excuse to go to The Drafthouse for a showing of the old movie, Roadhouse. It had been Mason’s idea, but Joe and I were on board for watching Swayze kick some ass while getting our buzz on. As we were leaving Joe’s, we crossed paths with Kelly, who was coming up their walk with a gift for the babies. Her panicked eyes and flushed cheeks broke my heart, and had I been alone, I’d have cornered her.

We were on our second beer when Joe got the call that Molly’d had a seizure, and they were rushing her to the hospital. Watching Joe go through that type of situation again, on top of my baby sister being in danger, was enough to make me light up my first cigarette in months. After coughing and hacking for about five minutes, I decided my body was done with smokes, even if my brain hadn’t caught up yet.

The docs convinced Joe to let them take the babies by emergency C-section. Luckily, Molly and the twins were fine, though the babies were in the NICU, since they were still premature. Knowing everyone was out of the woods, I drove over to Molly and Joe’s house to pick up Mason and Robin’s kids, who’d been at the shower when all hell broke loose. I wasn’t expecting Kelly to be there, but apparently she’d hung around to help Molly’s friends keep an eye on the kids. The children were a little shell-shocked after witnessing Molly being hauled away by ambulance, and it took me a little while to reassure them that all was well. Without my having to ask, Kelly stepped in and helped me talk them down. After they were all buckled up and ready to go, Kelly and I stood awkwardly by the minivan for a few seconds. She broke the ice, reaching out to place a hand on my arm. I swear, the heat from her touch lit a fire inside me. When her welcoming and sympathetic eyes locked with mine, I knew I had to do whatever I could to earn a second chance.

I took Francis’s advice the following week and contacted the school to inquire about volunteering. Turns out they needed people who were handy for a few small projects. The weather was starting to improve enough for the project manager to have a couple of things on his calendar, and the school secretary, a creepy lady who always leered at me when I came in to get M.J., was more than willing to pass along my information.

On the first warm day of March, I went to help install some new windows in the school’s library. I was up on a ladder, loosening the trim around the old window, when I spotted Kelly unlocking her bike and climbing aboard. As always, she was a vision of fitness and the human form. I watched her eagerly as she waved to a couple of students. She looked so pure with her tidy ponytail and pleasant smile, that I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her.

She just happened to look my way, and her eyes widened with shock. I waved, and she nearly rode right into some old folks walking their dog. Instead, she ended up ass over elbows at the bottom of a ditch.

As I jumped down and ran in her direction, I had a growing sense of dread.

Way to go, Numb Nuts. One look at you and she tries to off herself.

WHEN I SAW Mac working on the ladder that Friday afternoon, I nearly had a heart attack. I knew the school board was asking for volunteers, but it hadn’t even occurred to me that Mac’s son was one of our students. The weather was beautiful, and I’d looked up to admire the sky and glimpsed him instead, all rugged and smoldering, waving to me. He took me by complete surprise, and I’d almost run an elderly couple down. I veered to the left, careening head first into a grassy ditch.

The impact with the ground didn’t hurt, but the two thousand burs impaling me through my workout clothes did. I cried out, and when I saw Mac jump down off of his ladder and rush in my direction, I covered my face with both hands.

This cannot be happening.

“You okay, Sugar?” He blurted, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it away and struggled to push my bike off of me. I was desperate to escape before the humiliated tears brewing in my eyes began to fall. I hate that I cry when I’m angry, and I was furious that he’d witnessed my blunder.

Standing in the ditch in front of my workplace covered from head to toe in dirt, I wished for the power of invisibility. Instead, Mac stood next to me, brushing grass off of my shirt and whistling at the bleeding pedal gouge in my calf.

“We need a first aid kit. You think the nurse is still here?” He sounded a little frantic, so I snuck a peek up at him and nearly melted into the ground at the genuine concern I saw in his gorgeous eyes.

“I’m fine. I gotta go,” I stammered and reached down to pick up my bike.

“Let me drive you home.” He grabbed my bike one handed, as if it was made of cardboard. I shook my head.

“No. Thank you.” It sounded like high-pitched squeak.

“Kelly…” he started, but I snatched my bike with both hands, yanking it away from him.

“I don’t need your help, Mac!” I hated the shrillness of my own voice. My face felt like it was on fire, and the retired couple I had nearly run down were pointing and whispering. Mac blinked at my outburst in surprise.

“A...alright,” he whispered, and I didn’t wait for any more commentary before I straddled my bike and rode away as fast as my wounded leg would carry me. I made sure I was out of sight before I dismounted, pulling several burrs out of my backside.

For the entire weekend after my embarrassing wipe out, I fought the urge to text Mac. I lounged in my yard, drinking iced tea and trying to get into the novel Oprah was raving about. When that failed to happen, I moved to the couch and ordered a new- release movie on demand. All I could think about was how much hotter Mac was than the Hollywood A-lister starring in the film. I buried my face in my throw pillow and groaned.

I walked down to Whole Foods for some groceries and found myself scanning passing traffic for his bike. Sorting through my closet for Goodwill Donations, I decided to toss the shirt I’d worn on our first non-date. I played around on Facebook and saw a message from my friend Annette, asking about the good-looking guy with the hot dog and why I’d taken down the post. I paced the floor and bit my nails to the quick, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get Mac out of my head.

I’d been avoiding him ever since I ditched him at Ginny’s, and the more time that passed, the more idiotic I felt about the way I’d handled things. I realized how tangled up my head had been with all my dad’s revelations, and leaving Mac there so abruptly was bitchy, even by my standards. I couldn’t hash out a way to make things right. As weeks passed, I struggled for a way to casually be in his presence again, but I’d not found a graceful solution.

Since Dad had disclosed his past to me, I’d had a lot of soul searching to do. I’d called him up on Black Friday to ask him out to dinner. Over Tex Mex, I explained that I’d formulated a plan for us to work on this father/daughter thing. I wanted to work on getting to know him, but I could only handle so much at once. We agreed we’d do dinner one night a week, and we’d each get to ask three questions about the past. The rest of the time, I wanted to focus on our current lives…who we were now and our plans for the future. My idea was that though we needed to understand pieces of the past, the goal was to move forward. He happily agreed, and so far it’d been working out, except for the fact that when it came to the topic of my mom and their fights, he always clammed up. He refused to tell me much of anything about their relationship.

“I won’t speak badly about your mother, Kelly,” he’d say. “That doesn’t do anything but build resentment, and it’s not my place to tell her secrets. She picked up all of the slack with you after I was gone, and I’ll always love her for that.”

The topic of Mac came up on more than one occasion. I was honest about how things hadn’t worked out, but that I wasn’t happy about it and that I really had liked him. Thankfully, my dad seemed to understand that any and all Mac conversations were protected by parent/child confidentiality.

I’d been firmly ensconced in work, and loving every second of my new job. My classroom moms kept me hopping. I wasn’t used to such active parent involvement, and it was truly a breath of fresh air. If I even hinted that it would be nice to have something in the classroom, the following day some blinged-out mom would show up with the item in question.

Molly and Joe had finally found a house, and I was eager to help them move, since Molly had no business doing anything strenuous in her condition. I told myself that if I ran into Mac, I’d just be civil until I could get away from him. There’s a quote about how the best laid plans survive until the moment of battle. When I’d run into Mac on moving day, he’d looked so damned good that I felt like someone had stabbed me in the chest. He seemed surprised that I was there, and when he opened his mouth to say something, I zipped out the back door before he had to come up with anything polite. I delivered the pizza to the back yard and kept the kids busy for the rest of the day so that I could avoid interacting with Mac all-together.

Dad and I actually spent Christmas Day together, and I’d even gone to the trouble to bake a ham. I made him promise not to get anything, but on the sly I’d bought him some new seat covers for his new car. It was a multicolored travesty of an economy car, and only my father could think that it was anything to be proud of. Still, he’d worked hard and saved up for it, and it was a significant milestone for him.

I’d been in the act of putting the green bean casserole into the oven when he turned up at my place with a wrapped box. My hands went straight to my hips, and I gave him a disapproving frown.

“Dad…we talked about this.”

“I know we did.” He looked mildly sheepish. “But I missed a lot of Christmas presents, so you’re just going to have to be mad at me and accept the gift anyway.”

I placed the package under the tiny tree which I’d strung with multicolored lights, and it was his turn to scold me for his gift that blatantly stuck out like a sore thumb.

We ate and watched It’s a Wonderful Life, which is something we’d always done when I was little. As always, I got pissed at the character of Uncle Billy when he misplaced the money, and my dad had a laughing fit.

“Some things never change,” he said with an approving smile.

I made some hot chocolate while he tore into his present, and the genuine delight he expressed at the seat covers warmed me all over. He insisted I open his gift right away.

“You remembered!” I exclaimed, seeing the lovely picture frame I knew Mac had fashioned out of the remnants of an old tin ceiling tile. Sadness crept in since seeing it reminded me how it came into existence. All of the other tiles Mac had reclaimed from that tear-down made it through the cleaning process, but this one had a huge gouge in the center.

“I decided to just cut the middle out and made it into a frame.” Mac had explained with a shrug. “Then I painted it red, since it’s your favorite color.”

I’d always admired the one of a kind piece when I went to the shop and then one day it was gone. I’d been bummed because I’d been saving up for it.

“I set it aside after you told me you liked it,” Dad replied. “Now you just need a picture for it.”

“Let’s take one right now!” I said, and reversing my camera, we posed together for a picture in front of my silly little Christmas tree.

Winter break came and went, and I tried to keep myself busy. My student’s parents had spoiled me, and though I told Principal Higgins I wasn’t comfortable with the number of gifts I had received nor at the extravagance of some of those gifts, she assured me that my haul was par for the course at Porter Elementary.

I found out about a marathon/half marathon that was coming up in January, and though it was too little time for me to prepare (even for the half marathon), I decided I’d train for the following one.

In February, Molly invited me to her baby shower. I had no choice but to go. I’d been dying to see everyone again and to meet more of Molly’s friends. What I hadn’t considered was that Mac’s mom, Betty, and his grandmother, Elizabeth, would be present and that they were not only aware that Mac and I’d gone out once, but that they knew that it hadn’t worked out.

Since we’d already been introduced at Molly’s on moving day, Molly just reminded them that I was Francis’s daughter. They both eyed me knowingly.

“Ah, yes. The girl who was too good for Chicken Shit Bingo,” Mac’s grandmother bellowed. All conversations in the room came to a screeching halt. I froze, my hand outstretched, and felt heat all the way up to my hairline.

“Pay no attention to her, dear.” Betty sympathetic smile was surprisingly warm. She wrapped her arm in mine and led me in the direction of the punch bowl. “Who amongst us isn’t too good for that? I need to apologize for my son. I tried to bring those boys up right, but sometimes I think my womb only had enough oxygen for one baby. That would certainly explain Mason’s hairline.”

Things got even more awkward when Molly’s gorgeous employee, Stacy, introduced herself as “the girl who dated Mac before Kelly went out with him.” Stealing glances at the ample-chested blonde, I was beginning to see just how off-type I was for Mr. Hildebrandt. I contemplated sneaking out the back door, but things leveled off quickly after that.

Molly’s friends were a riot, and watching her two gay friends, Dan and Jay, snark at each other was highly entertaining. They both seemed interested in Molly’s employee, Isaac, who was a very pretty young man. He seemed oblivious to them both, having just stopped by to present Molly with her favorite gift of the day, a black baseball cap for her to wear on the food truck that had the words “Mother Trucker” embroidered on it.

Things had taken a dire turn when Molly had a seizure in the middle of opening Dan’s presents. My heart raced as I grabbed hold of one of Joe’s nieces, who screamed and sobbed hysterically when Molly hit her head on the coffee table and started bleeding. Once the ambulance took Molly away, I was left at the house with Molly’s friends Lisa and Jay. The other adults all left for the hospital when we volunteered to stay behind with the kids. I figured that was the best way I could help, and Lisa and I spent the afternoon trying to talk the kids down from the traumatic experience. Jay silently cleaned up the urine spot on the couch and Molly’s blood off of the coffee the table.

We’d convinced the kids to play hide and go seek, and soon they were laughing and carrying on in that resilient way only children can. I was searching for a couple of them in the foyer when the front door opened and Mac slipped quietly into the house. Finding myself face to face with him again was unexpected, and my mouth went dry at the site of his tired eyes.

“I’m here to pick up the kids for Robin,” he explained in a hushed tone.

“How’s Molly?” I asked, unsure what to do with my hands.

“She’s good. So are the two rug-rats. The docs did a C-section. He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. He seemed fatigued, and though I knew he and Molly had a rocky relationship, I could tell he’d been worried. “They’re cute as hell, Sugar. Tiny, but perfect”

Suddenly all the children surrounded us, and they collectively flipped out when they found out Molly had delivered her babies.

Mac had handled them well, and I backed his play. We had a moment afterward, but I told myself it was just a physical reaction to the stress of the day. I hadn’t been able to move on from Mac, and I still refused every offer Jerry made to set me up with someone. Now that she and the cowboy (whom I discovered actually had a first name, which was Chuck), were engaged, she was pulling an Annette, trying to fix me up every five seconds. I’d brushed her off every time, informing her I could find my own cowboy, thank you very much.

Reflecting back on all the months between our botched date and my colossally embarrassing collision with the ditch plunged me into a dark place. Two days after I’d nearly killed myself crashing my bike outside the school, I came to the decision that I should just let well enough alone. If Mac didn’t already dislike me for my rude exit at Chicken Shit Bingo, my display with the bike had surely sealed the deal. I tossed and turned all night on Sunday, replaying the look on his face, and when I rolled into work Monday morning, I went straight for the coffee maker in the teacher’s lounge.

“Too many margaritas this weekend?” Paula, the secretary asked, taking in my sunglasses and messy ponytail with obvious delight. That woman just loved seeing other people miserable.

“I wish,” I murmured.

“Hey!” Jerry appeared, all peppy and perfect. Her red hair looked like it had been professionally blown out for the school day. Her voice was rich and musical, like a long-lost Disney princess. Being engaged suited her, and I tried to brush the little green devil of jealousy off of my shoulder. At that particular moment, though, her perkiness made me want to pour my coffee over her head. “There’s something pretty in your mailbox.”

“Huh?” I asked, dumping a third of a bottle of creamer into my cup.

“Come look,” she insisted, and as I followed her in the direction of the teacher’s mailboxes, I noticed Paula was trailing along behind us like the paparazzi.

“See?” Jerry pointed to the bright red petals of a long-stemmed rose sticking out of my mailbox. I shoved my sunglasses up on top of my head, and my face hurt from scrunching it.

“What the h—” I started, pulling the rose from the slot and noticing a crisp white envelope that had my name scrawled across it. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, but I strongly suspected it was Mac’s. I thrust the rose at Jerry, who took it and immediately stuck it to her nose, inhaling deeply.

“Secret admirer?” Jerry asked, as I ripped open the envelope.

I felt all of my blood rush to my face, and my head pounded like a bass drum.

Shit.

“No.” I took the rose back from Jerry. “It’s no secret who it is.”

“Don’t be stingy!” Paula demanded, snatching the card and scanning it. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to me. “Mac? As in Mac Hildebrandt?”

“Mind your own business,” Jerry scoffed, ripping the card out of Paula’s hands and leading me away.

When I got home, I stuck the half dead rose into a crystal vase that Mom had bought me as a housewarming present. It seemed fitting that the flower was in its death throws, kind of like Mac and I. After gazing at its wilting leaves and drooping petals, I decided to grade some papers and turn in for the night.

I tossed and turned, the idea of not seeing Mac again unbearable. I’d been in a terrible mood going into that unfortunate date, and I’d taken it out on him. I was amazed that he was interested in a second date, and what paralyzed me was that I wanted a do-over as badly as he did. I needed to summon up the courage to contact him, but the prospect was daunting.

I busied myself with errands and prolonged workouts, trying to think of some smooth way to call him. After my behavior during the bike debacle, it was a hopeless cause. I asked myself if it was worth begging forgiveness, and discovered it just might be. After dragging my heels for nearly a week, I texted him.

Me: Are you serious about a second date?

I tossed the phone onto the bed and left the room. I went into the kitchen to make some lunch. The butterflies in my stomach were the size of something from the teasers for Jurassic World, and I somehow scorched my tomato soup. Frustrated, I went back into the bedroom to retrieve my abandoned phone.

There was a new text from Mac. My heart leapt into my throat and it was cutting off my windpipe.

Mac: Dead Serious. Name the time and place and I’ll take you there. Or anywhere else, for that matter. ;)

I was powerless to stop the smile that overtook me at his characteristic double entendre. My fingers flew across the tiny keyboard as I hurried to respond.

Me: You pick. But don’t bring your bike. I’m wearing a dress, so you’d better make it good.

I hit send, and I was in my closet, already planning my outfit. Twirling my hair as I searched through the hangers, I yanked out a recent purchase, surveying it with a critical eye. It seemed like just the right dress for the occasion. My phone buzzed, and I snatched it up.

Mac: Yes, ma’am. This Friday at 5:30 work for you?

Me: Sure does. I’ll see you then.

I put my phone on the charger with shaky hands. As much as I wanted this to happen, I was terrified that I’d find a way to sabotage it again. I collapsed on my bed and tried to imagine where Mac was and what he was doing. Considering where he had taken me on our previous date, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.

Mac arrived five minutes early, brandishing a bouquet of gerbera daisies. Dressed in dark jeans, a white button-up shirt and a navy suit-coat, he looked exquisite. The way he smiled when his eyes roamed over me left no doubt that he approved of my little dress

I’d gone with a sleeveless dress in pale yellow. I’d paired it with my cowboy boots and gold necklace and tossed my hair up in a messy top bun. I wanted to show him that I cared about how I looked, but I was leery to go all out after the last time.

Mac seemed nothing but pleased, and when I accepted the flowers from him, he trailed a finger across my hand.

“Let me put these in water,” I murmured shyly, but he shook his head.

“Bring ‘em along.” He replied. “Fresh cut flowers have a short life. Let’s take advantage of their sacrifice.”

I felt my flush begin, and there was no hiding it in the dress I’d chosen to wear.

“I missed you, Sugar.” He moved as if to place his hands on my shoulders and then stopped himself. Instead, he shoved them into his pockets and took a deep breath.

“I owe you an apology.” Frustrated at the situation of my own making, I needed to squelch his hesitation. “I was dealing with new issues with my dad that day, and a lot of it spilled over onto you.”

He nodded. “I was a bit distracted myself. I’d just picked my kid up from the cop shop the day before.”

I gaped at him in response, realizing for the millionth time since I’d known him that his universe didn’t revolve solely around me. If I was going to see him, I needed to get used to that concept. Mac stepped a little closer to me, and when he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, I felt my blush intensify.

“I wasn’t exactly Don Friggin’ Juan that day.” His finger trailed along my cheek. “Let’s put it behind us, okay?”

I nodded.

Minutes later, he opened the truck door for me and helped me up onto the side rail. His truck gleamed inside and out. I knew he used it as a work truck, but it looked like he’d had it detailed just for tonight.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said as he started the engine. “Molly recommended a place, and that girl knows her food.”

“I could eat.” I stole a glance in his direction. His cool confidence made it nearly as sexy to watch him drive as it was to ride on the back of his bike.

After a short ride to West 5th Street, we entered the restaurant. We didn’t have to wait when Mac gave them his name at the charming establishment. They ushered us to an intimate table in a dark corner. When I saw the restaurant’s name was Fixe, I smiled. Mac noticed.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for symbolism,” he mused.

Fixe had an eclectic beauty, with bare wood and strung lights, crown molding, and empty gold frames on the walls. The light fixtures looked more like sculptures, and they perfectly accentuated the burnt orange modern booths and farm-style tables. Smaller tables, like ours, housed a mix of booth benches and dark wingback chairs. It was what Jerry would have called “Austin upscale,” comfortable, but a bit gussied up.Mac chose to sit next to me on the booth bench, instead of sitting across from me. He turned to face me, and the intimacy of his decision to sit so close to me had me aroused.

He waited for the waitress to walk away before he spoke. “I need to explain where I was coming from on our last date.”

“No…” I shook my head, feeling like a complete jerk about it all over again.

“Yes.” His eyes were insistent, so I shut my mouth and let him continue. “I used to go to Ginny’s when I was really down about things. It’s just so laid back. It always puts me at ease. I figured it would be fun. I wanted to give you a chance to relax, after the talk about your mom and dad. Honestly, I wanted to take some of the pressure off too…back off the physical stuff a little.”

He must have seen my troubled expression, because he rushed to add, “Don’t take that the wrong way, Sugar. I loved getting’ physical. I just wanted you to feel comfortable. I hoped taking you there would help to get your mind off of things, and we could get to know each other better. I choose poorly. I’ve got no experience doing any of this the right way. Know what I mean?”

I nodded gravely. “I can relate.”

“Can we please just pretend like it never happened?” Mac asked. I took a long moment to consider his request.

“Maybe. But I need you tell me about the woman. The one you were talking to at bingo.” Though I sounded firm, my eyes traveled down to the open button of his collared shirt. He made my mouth water, and I hoped I’d get to loosen the rest of those buttons before the night was through. “The one you told I was ‘just a friend.’”

“She’s a close friend of my ex-wife’s,” Mac explained without hesitation. “I knew she’d be on the phone with Patty the minute she walked away. Patricia can be a real piece of work, and I don’t like giving her any insight into my life. She has a track record for harassing anyone I date.”

I had time to hate my penchant for snap judgements before focusing on Mac once more.

“I can handle myself, Mac.” I traced my sugar rimmed glass with my fingertip and placed it in my mouth. Mac’s eyes dropped to my lips, and it was his turn to flush. We locked eyes for a long, glorious beat.

“That I don’t doubt for a moment,” he replied. “But I’d prefer it if you didn’t have to.”

When the waitress returned, I handed her my menu.

“I’d like a salad and an unsweetened tea.” I said with a smile

Mac scoffed. “No you wouldn’t”

“Yes, I would,” I laughed. The waitress raised her eyebrows, and my face felt hot. “I’m training for a half marathon. I’ve probably gained a pound drinking this cocktail.”

“No one likes a salad,” Mac stated seriously. “And I sure as hell know no one likes unsweet tea.”

I folded my hands. “It’s what I’m ordering.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, studying me. “You need to live a little, girl.”

“Fine.” I turned to the waitress. “I’ll have ranch on the side.”

“Fine,” he mimicked me, leaning back against the booth and handing his menu to the waitress. “I’ll have the same.”

“No you won’t!” I objected. The people at the nearest table turned in our direction.

“Why not?” Mac tilted his head, his blue eyes pinning mine.

“Because…no one wants to eat a salad,” I admitted quietly, and Mac turned to the waitress and gestured to me, as if to say ‘See? I told you so.’

“Then I guess you’d better pick something else.” He cocked an eyebrow at me, and with a groan, I reclaimed my menu from the smirking waitress. Mac shook his head and rolled his eyes as he raised his glass to his lips. “Unsweetened tea.”

The derision in his tone was unmistakable.

We spent the rest of the evening catching up over New York strip and red snapper. We had a few laughs about how silly Joe was with the newborn twins, and we discussed how their new assistant, Nick, had really stepped up to the plate at Good Wood. Mac, who’d been so apprehensive about Nick on our first date, had nothing but good things to say about the kid. His new attitude regarding the matter jived with how my dad talked about Nick as well.

I told him all about the “Francis story” and explained how it had been my pre-show appetizer for Chicken Shit Bingo. Understanding was reflected on his handsome face, and I was glad that I’d elaborated. He placed a hand on the nape of my neck, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of his. He moved his hand to my jaw and cupped it gently.

“I wish you’d said something,” he murmured gently, but the look he gave me was anything but delicate. His expression was a complex mix of passion and concern, and it sent a surprising shiver through me.

“Me too,” I replied as the air grew thick around us.

Just then, a familiar face appeared at our table.

“Well, well, well,” Paula, my school’s secretary cooed. Her date, a nice looking blonde fellow, smiled at us uncomfortably. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Her eyes traveled to Mac, and they widened when he turned in her direction. “Mr. Hildebrandt! Hello.”

“Hi, Paula,” he murmured dismissively, his arm settling on the seat behind me. Paula assessed me with narrowed eyes, and though she tried to engage us in conversation, it was futile. Neither Mac nor I were interested in being interrupted. Thankfully, Paula’s date picked up on the signs, and it wasn’t long before he led her away.

“Ugh.” I dropped my napkin onto my plate. “I cannot stand that busybody.”

“She’s something, alright.” Mac agreed, and we went back to focusing on each other.

Somehow, Mac talked me into sharing a Zucchini Tres Leches, which was beyond divine. I enjoyed the taste so much that I dribbled some of the cinnamon meringue on my chin. Mac leaned in and swiped at my lip with his finger. He immediately placed said finger in his mouth, and my heart went wild at the suggestive gesture. He noticed, and he leaned in and captured my lips with his. I kissed him back fervently, oblivious to our surroundings or my lipstick, or anything else that might stop me from enjoying the blissful taste of him. His hand traced along the side of my breast, and for one brief second, I felt his thumb graze over my nipple.

When he finally broke away, I felt blotchy and out of breath.

“You wanna get out of here?” He licked his lip as if to prolong tasting me.

“Yes,” I replied without missing a beat. “Let’s go to my place.”

Once in the truck, he kept his eyes on the road, but his hand traveled up my inner thigh.

“Mac?” My voice made me sound like I belonged in the phone sex industry.

His eyes flicked to mine and then back to the road. “Yeah, Sugar?”

“I may have forgotten to wear panties,” I confessed. The expression that statement earned me made me never want to wear panties again.

We were tugging at each other’s clothing before I could get the door unlocked. I was afraid that if I couldn’t get my key to cooperate, we’d end up having sex in the hall.

Once inside, we didn’t get further than the couch. We were so frenzied and focused on one another that we knocked over the small table just inside my door. I managed to get his shirt entirely off, and his incredible build didn’t disappoint me.

By the faint light from the kitchen, I noticed he had a third tattoo on his chest, just over his heart. It looked like the planet Earth, and as I drew near and placed my lips on his skin, I realized the globe was formed by two letters. M on the left encompassed half the world and J on the right encompassed the other half. Speechless, my eyes traveled up to his face as I traced the ink with my fingers.

“He’s my world.” Mac explained and moved back in to claim my lips. I remembered Jerry’s comment about men who were good with kids and realized that she was a genius and I that I should never have doubted her brilliance.

When I finally got him onto the couch and got into his pants, my eyebrows lifted at the sight of him. He was far bigger than average, and I started to worry about my plan to warm him up with my mouth. First of all, he didn’t look like he needed any warming up. I’d never had to contend with anything near what he had to offer, and it was intimidating. Fighting my cowardly doubt, I exhaled nervously. The reverent way his eyes fell closed in response to my breath on him was encouraging.

The second my mouth came in contact with him, his guttural moan inspired me to overcome my fears. I took my time, experimenting with my tongue and hand, watching for his responses, and taking every cue in order to give him what he liked. Based on the way he gripped my hair in both hands, my performance was satisfactory. Then all at once, he pulled at my hair until I released him from my mouth.

“Get up here.” He demanded, and the virile look in his eyes had me anxious to comply.

I went to climb onto his lap, and he stopped me, rifling through his pockets to produce a familiar square condom package. He quickly removed it, and I helped him roll it on. He hoisted me onto him without further ado, and as he impaled me with his tremendous girth, my gasp was equal parts pleasure and pain. Mac froze, a frown marring his gorgeous features.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I insisted, and I nipped his bottom lip as I rocked forward, pushing myself further down onto him. I couldn’t wait to relieve the ache, the searing tension that had been building between us since the first time I’d met him, even if the reprieve was only temporary. His eyes smoldered as his fingertips greedily dug into my thighs. Between our months of verbal foreplay and his magnificent size and shape (which seemed tailor made for getting me off), he managed to make me come quickly.

I hadn’t been expecting it; it was rare for me to have an orgasm until I’d been with someone several times. Since I was rarely with anyone more than a couple of times, my orgasms had been few and far between. My embarrassingly loud response to this turn of events echoed in the quiet apartment. I’m pretty sure the neighbors heard us, because their TV volume decreased suddenly.

“Shhhh…” Mac chuckled, maneuvering me effortlessly so that I was lying on my back on the couch. “Keep making noises like that, and I won’t be able to hold back much longer.”

“Good.” I hardly recognized my raspy reply, as I guided him back inside me where he belonged. “It’s my turn to watch you come.”

A few minutes later, he had me on the edge again.

“I’m so close.” I gasped, unable to believe it was possible. Mac closed his amazing eyes and threw his head back with a moan. The sound of it pushed me over the brink, and we caused such a racket that the neighbors’ TV went totally silent.

When I could finally see straight again, I noticed that we were both half-dressed, and I still had my boots on.

“I feel very Texan right about now,” I giggled. He smiled, and his hand traveled from my thigh down the length on my leg to my boot.

“I’ve been told I can leave my hat on before, but this is ridiculous,” he agreed.

We relocated to the bedroom and made short work of getting completely naked. Between his incredible kisses and his feathery touch, he soon had me pawing at him unabashedly. I craved more of him.

“I may have created a monster.” He murmured, but he didn’t seem unhappy about the development.

Moments later, Mac was ready for round two. We went slowly that time around, leisurely experimenting. I felt surprisingly comfortable with him, considering how anxious I usually felt being naked in front of anyone. Perhaps it was because we’d known each other for so long or maybe it was because he made me feel very confident with his eager responses.

Early the next morning, I woke nestled against the warm flesh of Mac’s chest. His arms were around me, and when I moved, the soreness between my legs elicited a satisfied smile. Feeling like a giddy schoolgirl, I had to text Jerry, since I’d promised her a full report. When I picked up my cell phone, I noticed many missed messages from her. Instantly on high alert, I swiped at the screen. Jerry’s very first message ruined my entire day.

Jerry: don’t kill the messenger, but look what Paula put on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook!!!

The accompanying picture was of Mac and me kissing in our booth at Fixe. His hand was in a very compromising position alongside my breast, but the angle of the photograph made it look like he was totally groping me.

At least she missed the part where his thumb was on my nipple.

The caption below turned my blood to liquid fire. “What’s the world coming to? Teachers really should know better than to fraternize with parents. #StayClassyPorterElementary”

“SHIT!”

It wasn’t often the sound of swearing woke me from a dead sleep, but the hissed vulgarity from Kelly did just that. I blinked my eyes in an attempt to focus on the bedside table and saw that it was 10:30 A.M. Considering we’d been up half the night getting to know each other better, I wasn’t all that surprised.

I rolled over to see the marvelous view of her naked ass as she picked up her bra off of the floor. I watched in wonder as she hurriedly hooked it behind her back, the white lace hugging her darkly tanned flesh. She had the most amazing skin. She either laid out nude on a daily basis, or she won the genetic lottery. Either way, it was one hell of a feature, and I’d very much enjoyed exploring every inch of it the night before.

Her body was so toned that she could have easily passed for a professional athlete. I hardened again at the sight of her sculpted legs, and I rose up on one elbow for a better look. I purposely cleared my throat, as much to distract myself from my growing erection as to alert her that I was awake, which was the gentlemanly thing to do. Taking in the sight of her pants-less ass, I felt a lot more like a wolf than a gentleman.

Kelly whipped around, and when she saw me watching her, the apples of her cheeks caught fire.

“Mornin’,” I murmured, and the shyness in her luscious brown eyes brought a crooked smile to my lips.

“Hi…” Her regretful manner didn’t thrill me, but I brushed it aside, assuming she wasn’t herself without a couple of cups of coffee.

“I’m awfully lonely. Why don’t you get back over here and keep me company?” I asked, testing the waters.

“I can’t.” She scrambled to pull up her opaque panties. “I have someplace I need to be.”

“Do ya now?” I looked her up and down, noting her shallow breathing and the red blotches forming on her neck and chest. She was keeping something from me. Not only that, but she was doing it badly. She was a worse liar than Joe, and he had a hard time tricking an infant in a game of peekaboo.

“Mmm hmmm.” She refused to meet my eyes as she hurriedly dressed in a sweatshirt and yoga pants.

“You know this is your apartment, right? I should be the one trying to make a break for it.” It was meant to be a joke, but her steely expression never changed.

“Look, I don’t mean to be a rude hostess, but I need you to go.” She folded her arms in front of her, as if waiting for me to comply. This from the lips that had been wrapped around my hard on just hours before. I snorted.

“That’s not rude at all,” I chuckled sardonically, but she didn’t even crack a smile.

She sighed heavily, and her face darkened. “I’ve gotta go. Just lock up when you leave.”

My mouth fell open before I could contain it. I had no idea what had changed while I’d slept, but I was not dealing with the same woman I’d gone to bed with.

“You’re serious?” I hated the sound of my own voice, all surprised and lacking any sense of cool.

“Very.” She turned away, but not before I saw her expression, stony and unfamiliar.

I cocked an eyebrow and tossed the sheets aside. Her brown eyes returned in response to the sudden movement, and dropped reflexively to my junk. They widened, and I wanted to sweep her into my arms and back under the covers. But I resisted my urges. When her eyes met mine again, she looked flustered and immediately turned away, leaning against the wall to put on socks and sneakers.

I dressed quickly, trying to appear calm and fighting to shrug off the scathing rejection. Once I had my pants on and had shrugged into my shirt, I reached for her. Her eyebrows arched, but she allowed me to pull her into an embrace.

“I had a great time,” I whispered into her wildly mussed hair.

“It was…,” she started, and her palm came up to my face, as the fingers of her other hand lightly trailed across my chest where she now knew my tattoo resided. I thought she might open up, but instead, she removed herself from my grasp.

“Amazing?” I offered, watching as she struggled for words. Her hands were on her hips, and she looked like she was struggling for control.

“It was,” she managed, and for a second I thought she might cry. It wasn’t the response I was gunning for. “But I shouldn’t have let things go so far. I like you, Mac. But—”

“I like you, too.” I interrupted, not wanting to hear what ‘but’ she’d cooked up in her pretty little head. I wondered if I’d misread some signals the night before. Everything about being with Kelly had felt so right that I’d stayed the night, which I hadn’t done with anyone since my ex-wife, not even Stacy. Kelly had seemed to feel the same way, and the scratches that stung down my back were evidence that it wasn’t all in my head. “So what’s the problem?”

She shook her head and forced a smile. “Can you lock the door when you leave?’

My instinct was to laugh, not because what she said was ridiculous, though it was. It was her over-the-top politeness that tickled my funny bone. Like she was giving a press conference, not talking to a guy she’d gone down on so enthusiastically the night before. I choked back the laugh, though. A voice in the back of my head told me laughing at her would be a nail in my coffin.

“Sure,” I exhaled. She walked out of the room, and I followed after her.

She picked up her purse and stopped, her back to me. I heard her sniffle, and she raised her hands to her face. I was reaching out for her when she mumbled. “Such an error in judgement.”

My hands fell to my side, as the words stunned me to silence. I watched her walk out the front door without looking over her shoulder. She had already closed the door behind her when I finally found my voice.

“Whatever you say, Sugar.”

I made sure to lock the door handle when I left a few minutes later like she’d asked. When I climbed into my truck, I realized she’d left her flowers on the seat between us. They were already brown and dead from baking in the cab all night. It was hardly a surprise that she’d forgotten them, considering the way we’d been behaving on the way back from the restaurant. Thinking back on the moment I discovered she really was sans panties, a dastardly smile overcame me.

My light mood didn’t last long. In fact, halfway home, I was fuming. Grabbing hold of the flowers, I chunked them out of the window. I knew she’d had a good time with me, and not just in the bedroom. I thought we’d worked out our issues long before we left the restaurant. We’d been joking around by the time they brought out dessert. Her laugh was like butter, rich and addictive, and I was willing to do just about anything to hear it again.

I shook my head and blasted the stereo, trying to push her blow-off out of my head.

Women! They sure have a way of fucking up a perfectly good thing.

I wasn’t sure what kind of lies Kelly was telling herself or why she was telling them, but I had my own problems to deal with without taking on hers. I went home and did the laundry that I’d been too busy to do all week long. Then I set out for the grocery store. I had Mac Junior every other week, and he was due at my place in less than twenty-four hours. The kid was only seven, and he already ate like a teenager. I had to stock the cupboard for my growing boy.

I was wandering down the aisle looking for some of his favorite snacks when I spotted Stacy, reaching for a box on the top shelf. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t check her out. Stacy was an impressive girl, all blonde and stacked. She told me once that my sister had hired her away from Twin Peaks, Texas’s answer to Hooters. It didn’t surprise me a bit. Several X-rated memories of our brief, but steamy, time together flickered in my mind’s eye.

“Hey, Stace,” I said, and she started in surprise. “Let me get that for you.”

“Mac! Hey!” She smiled, and accepted the box of cookies I’d retrieved for her. “How you been? Up to no good?”

“Always,” I quipped, and she giggled. “Tell me something. Back when we were…”

“Were…” She purred, a small smile curling her full lips. “Intimate?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Was it good for you? Or were you just humoring me?”

“Oh, Mac. You were very good,” she replied, her eyes perusing me briefly but pointedly. “If excellent sex was all it took to make me happy, I’d have dug my claws into you and never let go.”

“Huh.” I nodded, satisfied that she was being truthful. “Well, okay then.”

“Baby, I found the Nutella.” Her new husband, Sanchez, came around the corner with a basket containing Nutella, bananas, and spray whip cream. He stopped short when he saw who was talking to his wife.

“Nutella and whip cream? Looks like someone’s having a party.” I joked. Sanchez furrowed his brow, but I gave him a grin. He was an intimidating guy, standing at least four inches taller than me, and built like The Incredible Hulk. But he had nothing to fear from me, and my sister was his boss, so I wasn’t too worried.

“See y’all,” I blurted and turned to leave. I was unpacking groceries in my kitchen before the full impact of what Stacy’s said hit me. I wondered what I didn’t have to make her happy, and I wondered if Kelly had spotted that same flaw in me.

Soon enough, Junior was in the house, and I didn’t have time to take a piss, let alone worry about women or their happiness. Finally, Friday night rolled around, and Mac Junior and I were popping some corn when the phone rang. I picked it up and looked at the screen.

Kelly.

No fucking way.

I took a deep breath and hit answer. “Hello.”

“Mac, it’s Kelly.” Her voice was light and airy, and I instantly wanted to see her.

“Yeah. I know.”

Silence.

Her sigh was deep enough to resonate through the phone. “Hey...what I said...well, I meant what I said. But I hate how I said it.”

It’s wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear. “What do you want, Kelly?”

More silence.

“Are you still there?” I finally asked.

“I want you to come over.”

I stopped what I was doing and looked up at the ceiling. Maybe I thought I’d find my self-respect up there, but all I saw was the smoothed out plaster I’d busted my ass on. “Looking to make another error in judgement?”

I heard her exhale. “Yes.”

I hung up without another word, and I immediately dialed Mason.

“Hey!” He boomed into the receiver. He sounded buzzed, but it was Friday night, after all.

“Hey.” I responded. “Are you at home?”

“Yep.”

“Can y’all watch Junior for a couple of hours?” I asked.

“Why? Gotta hot date?” He huffed. When I said nothing, he perked up. “Shit! Really?”

“I’ll be back by 9:30,” I explained. “Can you do it?’

“Sure,” he chuckled. When he spoke again, his snarky tone made me smile. “Don’t rush on our account.”

Minutes later, I hustled Junior into the car.

“Where are we going, Dad?” he whined.

“You’re going over to Uncle Mason’s and Aunt Robin’s.” I replied, without any need to fake enthusiasm. One of us was going to have a good time.

He scowled, his small face scrunched in disapproval. “But dad! We were gonna watch WWE.”

“Don’t you want to see your cousins?” I pressed, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

“I just saw them last Wednesday.” He grumbled.

I whipped my head in his direction. He’d been with his mother the week before. “You did?”

“Yeah.” He stuffed more popcorn in his mouth from the Ziplock I’d brought for him. “Mom went out.”

Mason had WWE on his plasma screen when we arrived, thank goodness. Junior ran for the TV and plopped down on the couch next to my brother and nephew.

“Was Junior here last week?” I asked Robin, who’d been the one to let us in. She seemed hesitant, but nodded.

“Patty said she had an A.A. meeting.” She replied, and I blew out a heavy breath. Patty at an A.A. meeting was as likely as me at a born-again virgin rally.

“Does this happen often? Her bringing him to y’all?”

“Mac…” Robin raked a hand through her frosted hair.

I fixed her with an interrogator’s stare. “Robin…”

“About once a month, maybe a bit more often lately.” She replied, rubbing her lip with her painted nails anxiously. “We don’t mind having him, but when she leaves him overnight on a school night, I worry. I don’t think he gets a lot of sleep over here.”

“Next time call me.” I sounded curt, and even when I saw the sting in Robin’s face, I didn’t apologize. “I’ll come get him.”

“Mac!” Robin hissed, looking over her shoulder to be sure Mason and Junior hadn’t heard her. “You know we love M.J.”

“I’ll be back before 9:30.” I replied and slipped out of the door. I was livid, and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I was sick of Patty shirking her parental duties and felt like my own family was keeping her secrets from me. Then I felt like a hypocrite for that anger, since I had bailed her out on a regular basis. By the time I got to Kelly’s apartment door, I was pretty spun up, and my knocking seemed to shake the entire building.

When she opened the door, I pushed my way in without a word. Her eyes were bright and a little scared; but she’d asked me to come, and I planned to do just that.

Her face was scrubbed free of make-up, and she was wearing a long white t-shirt. It was obvious that she thought I’d turned her down, and she was ready for sleep. Frankly, the t-shirt was fucking sexy, far hotter than any Victoria’s Secret shit she could have come up with. Her hair was all down around her, and my hands were fisting it instantly. She opened her mouth to speak, but I didn’t allow it.

My mouth was on hers, and though she hesitated for a second, it was exactly that before she gave back what she got. Her hands raked through my hair, tugging my mouth closer to hers, her tongue reminding me just what she was capable of. I slid my hands down to her bare thighs and lifted the shirt over her head.

“Mac…,” she sighed, as if ready to launch into another one of her lectures about how we shouldn’t do what we were about to do. I looked down to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and a primal growl escaped me.

“Shhhh,” I urged, backing her against the wall and caging her between my arms.

“But—” She whimpered, and I froze, cocking my head to the side.

“Do you want this?” I asked.

“What kind of question—” she started, a fire lighting behind her milk chocolate eyes.

“Yes or no, Kelly?” I interrupted. She stopped short, her eyes darting back and forth as she assessed the message in mine.

“Yes.” Her breathless response was accompanied by her hands reaching for my zipper.

I interrupted her attempt to undress me, running my hands down the back of her panties and hoisting her up until her legs were around my waist. Her breath caught, and her arms wrapped around my neck. I moved in to kiss her again, loving the taste of her glossy lips and her sweet tongue. She moaned into me, grinding against my waist. I could feel the heat of her even through my t-shirt, and her arousal drove me to get her naked, pronto. I stumbled blindly in the direction of her bedroom, taking my hands off her ass long enough to feel my way through the doorframe. Kelly clung to me, sucking on my tongue, making all the blood rush away from my brain and in a southerly direction.

I rested her back onto the bed, pulling back from her so I could take in every inch of her beautiful body. She froze, her expectant eyes locked onto mine, glassy and wanton. I hooked my finger in her panties, and she raised her narrow hips, a silent consent that I was taking full advantage of. Once the last slip of material was out of my way, I dropped to my knees between her silky thighs, and the sight of her slick and ready to go was nearly too tempting.

“Fuck me, Mac,” she moaned, but I was fully dressed and planned to stay that way, at least for now.

“Oh, I will, Sugar.” I drawled, trailing kisses up her inner thigh. “But I want to taste you first.”

A frustrated sound escaped her, but the minute my lips were between her legs, she seemed to come around. Alternating meandering kisses and quick flicks of my tongue, I slipped a cautious finger along her wet opening. She spread her legs even wider, and I read her message loud and clear. I slid my finger deep inside her, and she rocked against me enthusiastically, her fingernails gliding along my scalp as she pulled my face harder against her.

She picked up her speed, and I gently added a second finger, driving them deeper into her, massaging her upper inner wall in response to her whimpers. Unable to resist, I pulled back for a moment to watch her, but my fingers continued their exploration. Kelly’s back was arched, and her hands were on her gorgeous breasts. The sight of her working her way to an orgasm nearly convinced me to ditch my jeans and give her what she’d originally asked for.

“Please, Mac,” she groaned, as if reading my filthy mind. I clucked my tongue at her.

“Not yet. I wanna watch you come.” I replied, turning my attention back to the sweet taste of her. Sucking gently on the erect bundle of nerves that she so eagerly presented to me, I could feel her clenching around my fingers. Her pace picked up as she undulated against my hand and mouth, and I lashed my tongue against her, matching my strokes with her rhythm until she cried out. She gripped the back of my neck, bucking wildly. I could feel her insides convulsing around my fingers, clamping down on them in regular intervals. I locked onto her clit with my lips, applying firm pressure as she thrust against my face, crying out unintelligibly.

When she finally released my hair, I kissed her one last time between her legs. She still had a death grip on my fingers, and I gently eased them out of her, eager to get at my zipper. Yanking off my shirt, I hurriedly wrestled with my fly, the sight of her glistening on the bed before me, hair tousled all around her, was enough to drive me mad.

Kelly’s dark eyes were fixed on me, watching as I rolled on my condom, making a lazy attempt to push herself up on both elbows. Unwilling to wait, I flipped her over onto her stomach and when she spread her legs eagerly, I accepted her invitation, shoving myself into her all the way to the hilt.

She sucked in a breath, and I paused, worried that I might have hurt her. When she rocked her ass back against me, I felt a dirty smile appear on my lips. She tossed her dark hair in my direction, I gripped a handful of the long waves, pulling her head back gently.

“Oh yeah,” she gasped, and I knew without a doubt that I’d met my perfect playmate. That’s when I knew it wasn’t going to be so easy for her to dismiss me this time.

Releasing her hair reluctantly, I gripped her hip with one hand and I reached around between her legs, stroking her swollen clit with the pad of my middle finger. She slammed herself back against me again and again, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to lose it right there.

I slowed my pace, backing off the depth of my thrusts as a way of drawing things out. But Kelly would have none of it. She reached a hand back and dug her nails into my thigh, pulling several leg hairs in the process.

I chuckled, and it sounded sinister even to me. “More?”

“Please,” she whimpered.

I ran both of my hands over her ass in slow, deliberate circles. “This is mine.”

“Yes,” she agreed, tossing her long hair across her back once more. I bent over her back so I could whisper in her ear.

“Say it,” I demanded, and she arched against me, turning her head enough to that I could feel her hot breath.

“It’s yours.” Her husky reply was the last straw. I buried myself in her hard and fast until the rush of my intense release overtook me. After, I nearly collapsed on top of her, but managed to move aside at the last second. We lay in the dark, our breathing ragged and labored. Finally, I stood, snagging my pants off the floor and strode into the bathroom.

I ditched the condom and washed my hands, splashing some water on my face and rinsing out my mouth. There was no way I could leave this place with her taste on me. I looked at my weary reflection in the mirror and warred with myself. Mostly I wanted to go back in and get into bed with her, but the rest of me wished I’d never come to her place at all.

Even after the sex, my frustration was at an all-time high. I fixed things. It’s who I was…what I’ve always done. But Kelly didn’t want to be fixed. That was probably for the best, because I was starting to think there was no fixin’ her.

And there I was, throwing my energy at a woman who didn’t appreciate me. Again. Only this time, she wasn’t the mother of my child, and I was the one ditching my kid to go and get laid.

I heard the faint but unmistakable sound of bed springs as she moved, but I ignored it, pulling my pants up and buttoning them. When I stepped out of the restroom, she was in the hall, her sheet wrapped around her like the world’s luckiest toga.

“Where—” she started, but I was already past her, slipping on my shoes. To my astonishment, they were somehow still tied.

“I’ve got somewhere to be,” I snapped, and as I turned in her direction, the look on her face made me regret it. As beautiful as she was, her foundation wasn’t built on level ground. It’d be easier to tear her down and start from scratch than try to fix her. I didn’t have the right tools for the job, and with the problems I had to deal with daily from M.J.’s mom, I certainly didn’t have the time. A darker part of me pushed all thoughts of sentimentality out of my head.

This one could use a taste of her own medicine.

I stood and walked past her out of her apartment. As her front door closed behind me, I thought I heard her call after me, but maybe it was just wishful thinking.

MAC’S ABRUPT EXIT stung, but it wasn’t terribly surprising. I knew I’d hurt him the week before, leaving like I did. I’d been beating myself up about it ever since, imagining how I wished things had gone versus what really happened. I’d wake up in the night, and picturing his wounded eyes made it impossible to get back to sleep.

It had been all I could do to keep from breaking down in front of him after Jerry’s texts. A sickening mix of panic and humiliation had my head spinning.

Paula.

What a bitch.

I still had no idea what I’d done to cause her to do something so horrible and unnecessary. After leaving Mac standing in my living room, I’d hurried away from my apartment, angry tears streaming down my face. I had no destination in mind; I just knew I had to get away. I needed to think, and Mac’s touch made that impossible. I needed distance, and before I realized it, I was jogging down the sidewalk.

By the time I’d exhausted myself, I was in the middle of Zilker Park. People were milling around everywhere, but I managed to find a secluded place to sit behind the outdoor stage, where a sign said The Taming of the Shrew. The irony of seeing that title brought the ghost of a smile to my face, and I sat in the grass beneath a small tree to rest.

My first instinct was to call Annette, back in Detroit. I was desperate to hear a friendly voice, but I discarded the idea almost immediately. I was a sucky friend. It was hard enough to keep up relationships with people when you saw them every day. After leaving town, I’d probably called her four times. I cringed at the thought of calling her after so long, just to tell her about my troubles. I was a pretty shitty long-distance pal, but I could be a better friend than I had been.

I guess that’s the problem with long distance relationships, romantic or otherwise. Out of sight, out of mind is not a testament to how much you love someone from your past. Miles are a very real obstacle to overcome. Lives get busy, things change, and people lose each other in the tide of time. Near tears, I told myself I needed to try harder in the future if I wanted to have anyone worth having in my life.

I called Jerry to tell her I was on my way to her place. By the time she picked up, I was sobbing and barely able to talk. My fury at Paula, and her smug, self- righteousness had me shaking. I felt violated, and there was nothing I could do about it. The craziest part of this was that I wasn’t even her friend on social media, and I would never have even seen the picture if it hadn’t been for Jerry. With all that and my distress about Mac, I was overwhelmed. I knew my retreat was knee-jerk and that he’d deserved a better explanation, but I was far too emotional and embarrassed to give him one. I’d needed to break down in solitude. It was best to distance ourselves from each other anyway, considering. Jerry tried to sooth me, but after a couple of minutes of attempting to get me to spit out anything intelligible, she snapped.

“Don’t you dare drive over here in this state; take a damned cab! I’ll see you in a minute.” The phone went dead.

When I got to Jerry’s, she had fresh- brewed coffee waiting, and she’d pulled out some individually wrapped coffee cakes. She took one look at me and ushered me into a chair. Thought I tried, it was impossible not to think about Mac and everything we’d done the night before. I felt dirty and not in a good way. It wasn’t because I was ashamed of anything we’d done. I’d loved every second of it. I was angry at myself for bolting without finding the nerve to tell him about the post. I still couldn’t wrap my own brain around it.

Jerry’s face was as red as her hair. She dropped the box of coffee cakes on the table in front of me in order to give me a hug. Not realizing how badly I needed one, I broke down again. I couldn’t help it.

When I got myself together, I poured a cup of coffee with a shaky hand. I asked her to tell me anything she could about the Paula situation, and she sighed.

“She’s a meddling bitch.” Jerry snapped, as if she’d been holding it in since she’d sent me the screenshot.

“She came up and said ‘hello’ to us. She was on a date. Why would she do something like this? I’ve been nothing but nice to her.” I felt my face scrunch as I tried to rationalize Paula’s destructive attack on me.

“She told me Friday that she was going to a reception with her cousin last night.” Jerry grabbed her phone and she quickly scrolled though Facebook. “Is this the guy?”

“Yes,” I sniffed, seeing the picture she’d posted of herself and the handsome blonde.

“Paula’s worthless. She does nothing in that office but cause problems.” Jerry seethed, shaking her head. “She probably likes Mac. His kid isn’t even your student, and since he’s older, he never will be. The whole thing is total bullshit. Did you report her?”

I blew my nose for the eleventh time. “Report her? To whom?”

“Instagram.” She replied.

“I don’t even have Instagram.” I sighed.

“I reported her when I sent it to you.” She grabbed her phone. “It’s still up. I should tell Shannon and Kim so they can do it too.”

“No!” I wanted to vomit up the one bite of coffee cake I’d managed to choke down. “Don’t tell anyone anything. Please don’t draw any more attention to this!”

“They can’t do anything to you. You weren’t on school grounds or on school time,” Jerry said. It all sounded perfectly reasonable, but I still wanted to go home and crawl under the blankets and not come out for a week. Only the blankets still smelled like Mac’s cologne.

“You need to talk to Cynthia,” Jerry advised, referring to Principal Higgins by her first name. “You need to stay ahead of this. What did Mac have to say?”

I cringed at his name. “I didn’t tell him.”

Jerry rolled her eyes. “What the hell?”

“I just walked out and left him at my place.”

“Wait? Mac was there? When I sent this pic? This morning?” Jerry squealed, dissolving into girlish giggles. “Yay! How was it? Tell me everything!”

“I’m an idiot.” I felt my eyes sting, but I fought the tears. “I was shitty with him. I told him I had to go and he needed to leave.”

“Kelly! Why?” She stared at me in total disbelief.

“I figured if we weren’t together, this would just blow over. I’ve never been mixed up in any trouble at work. I’m new here, and I don’t need that kind of reputation.” I flopped back on the couch and covered my face with a pillow. “We weren’t going to work out anyway.”

“That bad, huh?” Jerry patted my hand sympathetically. “That sucks! He looked like he’d know exactly what to do with a woman. What a waste!”

“No, no. It was phenomenal.” I exhaled, recalling how amazing it felt when he kissed me and to be curled up next to him, let alone everything in-between.

“Then you need to call him, girl.” She squared her shoulders. “Like, today.”

“I’ll wait to see what Higgins says before I do anything,” I replied. I was so run down that I just wanted a nap.

Monday came, and I discovered Principal Higgins had taken a vacation day. Instead of getting any resolution, I got sly looks from everyone, and teachers stopped their conversations every time I approached. Jerry said that Instagram took down the post, but even so, I avoided the office entirely, for fear of what I’d say to Paula when I saw her.

By the time Tuesday came around, I had no choice but to go to the office. I needed to check my mail and to make copies for my class. I started to have second thoughts about bringing the whole thing up. I’d have to show Higgins the screenshot to implicate Paula, and it wasn’t exactly flattering to me.

While I was hovering between the teachers’ lounge and Principal Higgins’s office, I heard a ruckus coming from the teacher’s lounge.

“She’s classless,” someone said in hushed tones. My heart sank. “That kind of behavior is completely unacceptable.” Footsteps were coming toward me, and I ducked into Principal Higgin’s office. I had no desire to see whoever it was that was talking about me. Principal Higgins came in a moment later. Her face reflected surprise that quickly turned to determination. I steeled myself for what was to come.

Is she just going to fire me? God, what if I can’t find another job? Maybe Molly will give me a job on one of her food trucks.

Principal Higgins closed the door, flicking the lock, before sitting behind her desk. She sat silently for a moment before speaking.

“First, Miss Palmer, I want you to understand that this kind of thing is completely unacceptable. In all my years as a principal, this is the very first time something of this nature has occurred. Accordingly, though the infraction is serious, I believe it should be approached as a teachable moment.”

I felt a moment of hope at her tone, but then the walls of reality crashed down upon me.

How can I stay and effectively teach? I’ll always be looked at as ‘the teacher who was all over the internet. Just having me around will keep the story going, and it will be impossible for me to get anyone to take me seriously. The best I can hope for is that she’ll still give me a recommendation so that I can move back to Michigan.

“I will completely understand,” Principal Higgins said quietly, “if you choose to take civil action against her for what she’s done. I cannot imagine what she was thinking to do something so crass.”

Mentally, I lurched, not really understanding the direction the conversation had just turned. This was supposed to be about my poor judgement in dating a parent. Luckily, Principal Higgins kept talking, oblivious to my confusion.

“Paula and I have had a long conversation about the proper use of social media and what it means to create a ‘hostile work environment’ for a co-worker.”

“But I thought…” I broke off, unable to finish the thought.

Principal Higgins’s concerned look had a touch of wariness to it. “What is it?”

I swallowed, deciding it was time to get it all out in the open.

“I thought I’d be in trouble. For dating a parent.” Principal Higgins gave a surprised little laugh.

“Heavens no! It’s no one’s business whom you date. Certainly not Paula’s. And why would we care? He isn’t married, you aren’t married; you’re consenting adults.” My face felt hot, and I pushed through my embarrassment to speak.

“Then what does she get out of posting something like that online? If she wasn’t trying to get me fired, what exactly was she trying to do?”

“Kelly,” Principal Higgins said quietly, “you need to understand this. Let me be perfectly clear. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you seeing Mr. Hildebrandt. No one at this school, myself included, has any place to tell you what to do in your private life.”

Turning the situation around in my head I saw things from her point of view. One of her teachers was in her office, embarrassed publicly by a co-worker. She wasn’t here to fire me; she was trying to keep a lid on a potentially explosive situation.

“So what happens now?” I kept my voice surprisingly calm, even though in my head I was slapping the mascara off Paula’s ugly face.

“Paula is on unpaid leave for the rest of the week. Depending on her behavior, she’ll be allowed to return to her position next week.” I felt a vindictive thrill at the news. Principal Higgins leaned in toward me, even though we were in the office alone. “I never told you that, as it would be against our HR policy to talk to another employee about disciplinary actions. So let’s just keep that between us.” I gave her a tight grin and nodded.

“Didn’t hear a thing. What about me?”

“You? Go back to your classroom and wrap things up. But on a personal note?”

I nodded, tilting my head curiously. “Mac Hildebrandt seems like a fine man. He’s always respectful and he’s an attentive parent. You don’t need to be embarrassed about being seen out and about with him. It’s not like you have to scrounge up your cousin to take you to a wedding.”

I laughed at the dig and felt my embarrassment melting away. She was right. I didn’t have a damn thing to be ashamed about. I walked out of her office with my head held high, zipping into the teachers’ lounge to grab a cup of coffee. Tina Polson (second grade) was sitting at the table with Jane Masters (third grade). As I came in, I nodded at them; they both gave me huge grins, and the warmth I felt radiating off of them was like an electric blanket on a frigid January night.

“Hey there, girl,” Jane said, fluffing her short blonde hair with her hand. “We hear you had a good weekend.” There was nothing mean-spirited in her words, and I found myself grinning along with them.

“Parts of it were a lot better than others,” I responded, blushing. Tina looked back down the hall, as if checking that no one was coming, then made a rude noise.

“That bitch needs to stay out of other people’s business. This isn’t the first time she’s run her damn mouth and caused unnecessary drama. I hope she mouths off to Higgins and gets her ass fired this time around.”

“Tina!” Jane sounded scandalized. “Someone might hear you.”

“Well,” Tina’s sarcastic tone was as loud as before, “the precedent seems to have been set that you can say whatever you want about whomever you want without repercussions. Besides, I was smart enough to make sure no one was coming.”

Jane turned back to me. “You seeing Mac is a good thing. God knows that man is a catch. Paula’s just jealous because she has been throwing herself at him since M.J. started kindergarten, and he just keeps dodging.”

Tina cackled at Jane’s slam and then covered her mouth with her hand. Tears welled in the corner of her eye as Jane mimed leaping at someone and then mimed leaping back out of the way. I started giggling and that set Jane off as well. The mental picture of Paula trying to stage dive at Mac and having him step back out of the way was priceless. I collapsed into one of the chairs as I fought to get my breath back.

We sat for a while drinking coffee and talking, until the bell rang. Their attitude and my discussion with Principal Higgins gave me the strength I needed to face the rest of the teachers the following morning.

Within ten minutes of the first bell rang on Wednesday, I realized I had nothing to worry about. A few of the older teachers seemed a bit more distant, but I guess that was to be expected in The Bible Belt. Most of the rest didn’t seem to care at all.

Paula’s suspension was probably a good thing. I don’t think I would have trusted myself in a room with her. By the time school let out, I was starting to breathe a sigh of relief. The building was quiet; most people had taken off the moment the kids were out the door. So I was startled when Jane came storming into my classroom, with Tina trailing after her.

“That woman is impossible!” Jane was saying to Tina. For a moment I thought they were talking about Paula. “I have dealt with a lot of difficult parents, but she’s the worst. Telling me that her kid is falling asleep in my class because I’m a boring teacher? The kid is seven! The only reason he would be falling asleep in class is because he isn’t getting the rest he needs at night.”

“What’s going on?” I asked as Tina sat down on the edge of my desk. Jane, who’d been pacing during her tirade, stood with one hand on her hip. I saw Jerry peek her head in the door and then hurry in.

“Mac Junior keeps falling asleep in class. Like twice a week every other week. So, I took a minute to talk to his mother about it after school. You know, just a quick heads up so that she knows what’s going on. Instead of showing an ounce of concern, she starts yelling at me. Telling me I’m a horrible teacher, that if I weren’t so boring he’d be top of the class, and that I need to mind my own business. Her breath reeked like she’d been at the bar. I followed her outside to make sure she wasn’t driving. Luckily for her, some old, gnarly looking guy was behind the wheel. Poor M.J.! He was so embarrassed. She yelled at me in front of half of the school during pick up. I don’t know what is going on with that woman, but it’s her child who’s suffering. He’s such a bright kid. His grades are down, and his hygiene has been horrible half the time. I hate to ask this, but maybe you should mention it to his dad. His mom certainly doesn’t seem to care.”

I debated about getting involved for a couple of days. In the end, I knew Mac needed to hear about it, and I wanted it to come from a friendly face. So I called him Friday evening, intending to ask him to come over to talk. Somehow Mac maneuvered us into our usual sexual sparring, only this time our banter had no playful edge.

Then he hung up on me.

Hurt and frustrated, I washed my makeup off and got ready for bed.

He surprised me by showing up a little while later; his eyes were wild with lust. I tried to keep my focus on what I needed to say, but the lecherous curl of his lips was far too distracting. We launched into a physical frenzy, and his skilled and gifted tongue scrambled my thoughts until I could barely remember my own name, let alone why I’d asked him over.

Afterwards, I was still trying to catch my breath when he walked out on me. Tossing my own words back in my direction, he landed a palpable blow. The difference was that I totally deserved the treatment, when he’d done nothing to be dissed so badly by me. I lost a lot of sleep that night, replaying the undercurrent of hurt beneath his parting shot.

The next morning, I rustled up my big girl panties and drove over to his house. I’d called Molly for his address, and she hadn’t even asked for an explanation when I requested it. Her sleep deprivation had really worked in my favor, considering she typically would have pried something out of me about the situation.

“By the way…” she said, conspiratorially, “What do you pay for your apartment?”

I wrinkled my brow at the unexpected question, but I told her, and she followed up with “Do you have a lease?”

I explained that my lease had been a six-month lease, but I was now month to month. “Why?”

“Joe’s looking for someone to live in our old apartment,” she replied. My heart sank. I’d been saving for a new car, and I was very frugal about money for obvious reasons. There was no way I could afford a two bedroom, especially in such a great location. I pictured lounging on their rooftop pergola, and pouted.

“I wish. It’s so cute, but there is no way that I can swing that.”

“I happen to know the landlord,” Molly said, “and he’s a pushover. Joe just wants someone he can trust to not destroy the place or burn his shop down. I bet I can get him to match what you’re paying now. In a way, you’d be doing us a big favor. Giving us a tenant that we can trust and just think how much more space you’d have!”

“Stop it, Molly! You’re getting my hopes up,” I said. “Y’all just let me know.”

After I’d hung up, I realized with amusement that I’d just used “y’all” for the first time.

When I pulled up in front of Mac’s, I had to check my GPS to make sure I had the right place. Then I spotted Mac’s truck parked under the carport and his bike parked out front, so I knew it was. He owned a little grey bungalow with black shutters, shaded by a mature pecan tree. He had a nice-sized side yard with a covered patio, all enclosed behind a white picket fence.

White picket? Seriously, Mac?

The porch had a matching white swing, and the bushes surrounding it were well manicured. I remembered what Robin said about the Hildebrandts and their hyperactive ways, and I shook my head.

I approached the porch nervously, my eyes taking in every detail. It was odd to have known Mac for as long as I had, and as well as I did (biblically speaking), and to have never been to his place. I felt weird, showing up uninvited. I paused on the top step, admiring the white washed wood of the rebuilt porch and the arts and crafts style window sills.

What if he doesn’t answer when he sees it’s me? What if he slams the door in my face?

Rallying my last shred of determination, I forced myself to stand up straight and deal with whatever reception I’d earned.

I wasn’t expecting to see a little boy when the door opened. My eyes swooped downward to his, and I was stunned to realize I was face to waist with Mac Junior.

I’d seen him around school, and how I’d ever missed the resemblance was beyond me. The child on the other side of the screen door was a short, beardless Mac with freckles and a missing tooth in the front. I’d spoken to him a couple of times at recess and knew he was a real character.

“Whoa,” he said, and his eyes shot instantly to my boobs.

Yep. It’s Mini Mac. He’s not just his son. He’s Mac’s clone.

“Who’s at the door, M.J.?” I heard Mac’s deep voice as he approached, and braced myself.

“Miss Palmer…” Junior replied, finally finding my face. “Am I in trouble or something?”

Mac appeared behind his son and pushed the door open a little wider, his expression shifting from predator to prey, and then back to neutral.

“Hi.” I sounded like a goofy, breathless moron.

“Well, don’t just stand there, Kid. Invite the lady in.” Mac said. His resting amused face was now firmly in place, but his twinkling eyes gave him away. He was pleased to see me.

Junior just kept blinking at me as if I were about to pull a gun on him, so Mac gently guided him out of the way by his head, and pushed open the screen door. He waited, and I hurried inside, my arm brushing against his as I entered.

The inside of his home was just as charming. Neat, well-kept woodwork with the classic built-ins and craftsman-style lines. It was surprisingly clean, more so than my own place. The decor was vintage man-cave, overstuffed leather furniture and a giant TV with game consoles. Beyond, where most people would have had a dining room table, Mac had a pool table. Cowboys paraphernalia littered the walls as far as the eye could see.

“So.” Mac said, drawing my attention back where it belonged. His hands were in his pockets, and he was watching me expectantly.

“Miss Palmer, are you here because I threw dirt at Jackson?” Junior asked, and for a minute he looked like he might make a break for it. I smiled at him and hunkered down so I wasn’t looming over him.

“I’m not here for the school, M.J.” I said, hoping I wasn’t overstepping by using his nickname. “I’m here because I’m friends with your dad. Do you know Francis?”

“From dad’s work?” His brow furrowed, as if it was the last thing he’d expected me to ask.

“Yep.” I said enthusiastically. “He’s my dad.”

“Really?” He looked to Mac for conformation, and he nodded. I noticed Junior’s hair was wet, like he’d just had a bath. I had no doubt based on the appearance of Mac’s house that he made sure his son had regular showers.

“It’s true. So when we’re not at school, you can call me Kelly. If you want to.”

“Cool!” Junior’s huge smile was infectious.

“Miss Kelly.” Mac corrected. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the unnecessary southern title.

“Okay…” Junior frowned, but his smile was back in an instant. “We’re playing Boggle. Do you want to play?”

“M.J…” Mac started, sounding like he was preparing an excuse for me.

“Sounds fun! I love that game!” I replied, cutting Mac off. I looked at him to see if he had any other objections, but he just looked bemused, as always.

I followed M.J. into the large kitchen, and discovered that they actually did have a dining room table. The game was spread across it. Mac pulled out a chair for me, and I sat.

“Who’s winning?” I asked.

“Who do you think?” Mac grumbled, jerking a thumb at Junior, who grinned.

We played three times, and M.J. held his own. He certainly had the most entertaining word finds. In round one he found the word “boob,” for which Mac nearly awarded him double points. In the second game he found “babe,” which Mac told him wasn’t really a proper word.

“That’s bull! You use it all the time, Dad.” Junior insisted, and I watched with a smile as Mac shook his head.

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do!”

“Use it in a sentence.” Mac demanded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his bulging arms.

“Miss Kelly is a total babe.” Junior declared, and Mac’s hearty laugh echoed throughout the house.

“Can’t argue with that.” He stated after he finally recovered. I rolled my eyes at the two of them. Mac alternated between teasing M.J. for his silly behavior and peppering him with compliments and fist bumps when he was successful. I was impressed that Junior could play Boggle at all, since he was only seven. I was even more impressed that Mac owned the game.

“You should stay for lunch!” M.J. said to me. “We’re grilling out!”

“I—” I started to say I couldn’t, but Mac swooped in to rescue me.

“Go on and get some fresh air, ya little nerd.” Mac said.

“Can I see if Maddy can play?” M.J. asked, as enthusiastically as if his father had just informed him they were taking a trip to the moon.

“Sure. But you stay in our yard or hers. Alright?” Mac replied, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, sir.” M.J. nodded, and ran out the back door.

“Their fence has a gate right across from ours.” Mac explained awkwardly, “It’s like ten feet to the next yard.” He seemed like he was trying to convince me, so I nodded. I could see Junior racing to the next house and opening the gate. I turned to Mac and saw he was watching until the gate closed. He glanced at me, then back to his mug. We sat in awkward silence at his kitchen table for a few seconds. Watching him sipping coffee by daylight after everything we’d done the night before seemed pretty surreal.

“He’s so smart.” A gentle smile overtook me.

“Yeah. I don’t know where he gets it.” The pensive crease between his eyes showed me he wasn’t kidding. I dropped the smile and blinked in surprise.

“Sorry to just show up like this,” I finally said. “I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

He turned to look at me, his blue steely eyes holding their usual confidence. I wanted to throw myself at him, but he’d made that impossible the night before. Besides, I was on a mission. Though I had no desire to meddle in his business, it couldn’t be helped. I was all the more resolved to do the right thing after spending time with M.J. I needed to be sure Mac was in the loop, even if I hated relaying the news.

“Want some more coffee?” he asked, and I nodded. He picked up my cup and crossed the kitchen. I got up and followed him, licking my lips nervously.

“Mac Junior’s teacher is concerned about him.”

“Oh? How so?” He paused, his hand still out toward the coffee maker.

“His scores are down He’s been falling asleep in class. She tried to talk to his mother—”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said sharply.

His body went rigid, and he seemed to be working too hard to breathe. I’d never seen Mac angry before, and I instinctively took a step back, but pushed on. “There’s something else.”

He sighed heavily, and by the way his head rocked back I could tell he was looking at the ceiling. “What?”

“She mentioned that he’s had a lot of hygiene issues lately.”

“What?” He turned to face me. “His teacher is just…gossiping about us in the teacher’s lounge?”

“No!” I looked up at his hostile expression, and my heart galloped like an untamed stallion. I could feel my skin catch fire, and I tried to remain calm. “She heard that we were dating.”

He looked at me suddenly, and an unfriendly smile appeared on his face. “I’m sure you set the record straight on that, right? Told her what a mistake I was.”

My jaw dropped, and my head was throbbing.

This must be what a stroke feels like.

“So, you came here as a mandatory reporter?” He tilted his head, and the fire in his eyes wasn’t the kind I’d come to expect from him. “Checking in on us? Making sure I’m feeding him? Did we pass your inspection, Miss Palmer?”

“Stop! I came here as your friend. I wanted to let you know so that you weren’t blindsided.” He turned his back on me. Enough time passed that I decided I had overstayed my welcome. Walking back to the table, I grabbed my keys. I was moving toward the door when he finally spoke.

“Kelly,” his voice was as soft as a caress. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“I deserved that. Sorry I interrupted your morning. I’ll show myself out.” I hurried out the door and rushed to my car.

THE PROBLEM WITH success is that when it arrives you expect all of your dreams to come true. Or in my case, you at least want to take a moment to enjoy the view. The prize package isn’t like it is in the movies; a big house, a nice truck and a Playboy Playmate to share all of that with. Truth is, most of us that fumblefuck our way to the finish line are just plain lucky. Right place, right time. We stumble into success, and when we do, the reward rarely comes in the form we expect.

When my buddy, Joe, asked me to come work with him, I thought “what the hell?” It would be a great side business to make some extra cash. My baby mama was a very expensive dependent, and I could always use a little something more to keep her happy and off my back. I had no idea Joe’s shop would become so popular, and I was in no way prepared for the workload.

Things got so busy that I had to quit my day job in construction. I was psyched to have found my American Dream. Lucrative, honest work doing something I loved. And our partnership was ideal. Joe can make almost anything out of any kind of wood, so he headed up the fabrication division. My passion has always been in repurposing old stuff for new uses. I took care of stocking the showroom with one of a kind creations, while Joe did a lot of commissioned custom work. Since I had connections all over the area, scoring unwanted materials from demos is a snap. Between the two of us, we could cover just about anything anyone wanted done with wood. It’s almost like having a license to print money.

Good Wood started out in the building Joe owned, with a small storefront to showcase some of our featured products. In a matter of months, we expanded into the building next store and purchased an off-site warehouse to store raw material and finished products. Dollars rolled in, and for the first time in years, I had a sizable balance in my savings account. I was able to keep Mac Jr.’s mom off my back and buy myself a Harley. It got so busy that we had to start being more selective about the jobs we took. Eventually, we were forced to triple our prices just to control the workload. I’m not complaining about our success, but it would be nice to have ten minutes to myself, to drink my morning cup of coffee.

There were also the growing problems that came with having increased cash flow. Specifically, M.J.’s mom. Instead of the money making things easier between us, the woman just seemed to become more of a problem. She had always been a partier, but lately things were getting out of hand. First, I find out she had been ditching our boy with my brother while she went out and did God knows what. Then there was her arrest and now Kelly’s report that Patty wasn’t doing what she needed to for MJ. That last bit took away the last of my restraint, and I dropped MJ with my mom so I could go have a talk with Patty. As was the norm instead of an adult conversation, Patty flipped out.

“Oh, you know that’s total bullshit,” she said, as she exhaled the smoke from her cigarette in my general direction. “M.J.’s teacher sucks. She’s just not challenging him.”

“Funny, he doesn’t have an issue staying awake on my weeks.” I shot back, looking at her platinum hair with its dark black roots and wondering who told her she looked good blonde.

“Quit trying to make a case for full custody. You can’t afford another legal battle with me, Mac. Just because that little tramp you’re fucking works at the school, doesn’t mean you can make shit up and turn them against me.”

She took one look at my face and snickered. “Don’t look so surprised Mac. I have my sources.”

“Let me say this slowly so you aren’t confused in any way: you do your fucking job and be a decent mom, or make no mistake, you’ll never see that little boy again.” I seethed, and that shut her up quick.

Even so, she started fighting with me over text the minute I drove away. We went back and forth for hours, until I finally shut my phone off. Once I calmed down from my initial anger, I wondered how she knew about Kelly. Regardless, I had a feeling I was going back to court. Since that night, I’d randomly stopped in on Patty and M.J. for about a month. She seemed to be on top of things. I think she saw just how serious I was when I threatened her.

Between the extra time babysitting Patty, and the added burden at work, I was hard-pressed to have any time to relax. It was funny how Joe’s charitable ambitions kept eating into my free time. His latest brain child was a big build-off event he’d decided to call Heartwood. Anyone who could drive a nail or carve a block was descending on Austin to participate. Everybody was going to get together and make crap that would be auctioned at the end of the day. All proceeds were being donated to the homeless shelter Francis used to crash at. Heartwood was still several months away, but it was just one more demand on my already non-existent free time.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all about giving back. Lord knows that if I hadn’t been cut a few breaks when I was younger, I would have ended up in juvenile hall. But when Joe decided that we should contribute to society, I was thinking we would write a check. I should have known better. I kind of blame my sister and her bleeding heart ways for my brother-in-law’s newfound philanthropy.

Joe and I had always been tight. His proposing to my sister just made it official. I was against them getting together at first, but even I can see how good they are for one another. Since Joe became a dad, he’s a lot more like his old self. The guy I ran with who always did the right thing, before his first wife and baby died and he fell apart.

I was happy that he and Molly were getting hitched. Still, I thought he was nuts when he decided that we should do our part to nurture the carpenters of the new generation. He put the word out that we were open to mentoring young people of talent, and that’s how we ended up with Nick. He’d been a total screw up when we first brought him on. Sure, he had raw talent. I won’t deny that. But between his constant texting and continuous passes at my pregnant sister, I was sure Joe would punt him out the door…literally. Instead, Nick stepped up and followed Joe’s lead. Against all odds, he’d become a productive member of society.

Word travels fast in the construction world, and it wasn’t long before we had more potential apprentices than The Donald. The kicker was, the second we got an apprenticeship program in place, Joe took a few weeks off to spend time with his kids. Guess who inherited his pet project and the headache to go along with it?

Joe had been back for a month now, but with two babies still keeping them up at all hours, he was the king of the half day. So naturally, adult babysitting fell to me.

“Mr. Hildebrandt? Mr. Hildebrandt, sir? Are you in here?” The nasal tones of our newest recruit, a skinny kid who looked like the lost Weasley from Harry Potter, set my teeth on edge. He was a nice enough kid, but with the limited amount of caffeine in my system, he was stomping on thin ice with that voice of his.

“Yeah,” my response sounded gruff even to me, but I didn’t care. I never signed up to be wet-nurse to a bunch of brats. “Back here in the office.”

The kid came bursting right in, exuding excitement and reaffirming to me that all gingers have no soul. There’s no way that any normal person could be have this much energy this early in the morning.

“Hello, sir!” His voice cracked like he was still going through puberty, and I winced at the decibel level issuing from his cake hole. He opened his mouth to continue and I held up my palm, face out.

“Whoa there, Sparky. It’s early and I just poured my first cup of coffee. My head is killing me. Whatever you’re here to say needs to be said calmly and, more importantly, quietly.” The kid looked like I just flushed his goldfish. I released a long suffering sigh. “What do you want? Just get on with it.”

He took a step back (I assume in response to my tone), and I could see that it had just dawned on him that bursting in on me like the ‘Cheerful Morning Brigade’ had been a very bad idea.

“Well, sir, I know that I’m new here, and I don’t want to cause any trouble…”

I sipped my coffee to keep from screaming at him. Joe had specifically asked me to stop yelling at the apprentices. Besides, it wasn’t the kid’s fault I was exhausted. Staying up half the night arguing with M.J.’s mom had been my choice. Taking it out on Little Orphan Annie wasn’t going to improve the pounding in my head, so I opted for a quiet conversation.

“Out with it, Red. You’re killing me.” Putting my head down in one hand, I waved my coffee cup in an encouraging motion.

“Well...I was here really late last night, working on the project that you said we had to be done with by the end of the month. I was in the back, sanding when I heard some people come into the shop. Michael and Tom came in, but they weren’t alone. They had girls with them.”

I let my mind wander again as “Snitchy McSouless, The Long Lost Weasley” detailed the rowdy nighttime activities of two of his fellow apprentices.

“Then Kelly came stomping down the stairs and told them if they didn’t leave she was calling the cops. I figured I should tell you before she told Joe.”

“What?” I whipped my head in his direction at the mention of her name.

“Kelly. Francis’s daughter. She banged on the glass and told them she was trying to sleep and they should go before the cops showed up. It was midnight, so you can’t really blame her. She’s a schoolteacher, right? She was wearing a white tank top and boxers…she’s so hot…no bra—”

“Was she staying at Francis’ or something?” I frowned, confused and needing way more coffee to follow his ADD storytelling.

“No. She moved into the apartment upstairs. The one that Joe and Molly moved out of. I thought you knew,” he replied, staring at me in open surprise.

The knowledge that all that stood between Kelly and me was a thin slice of ceiling was tortuous. I’d tried to call her once since she stormed out of my house, but it was late at night and she’d never called back. I still thought about her all the time. She was as addictive as crack, and I was a full-on junkie.

Kelly had piqued my interest the moment I laid eyes on her, but it wasn’t until she’d been in my kitchen with my son that I knew I was in serious trouble. I more than liked Kelly before she stepped inside my house, but seeing her with Junior did me in. She was great with kids, and it wasn’t just an act. She had a way about her that put MJ at ease and made him want to do better just because she was paying attention. Seeing them together made me wish for things I hadn’t realized I wanted.

Then when she told me why she was really there, it was clear that my pipe dreams about Kelly were just that. I couldn’t really blame her for showing up to check me out with M.J. If anything, her concern just proved what a good woman she was. It seemed unfair that destiny had put her in my path. She’d make someone a great mother someday, just not my son. He was stuck with Patricia, for better or worse.

The intern continued to prattle incessantly, and all I could do was replay his description of Kelly the night before. Those long legs, toned thighs leading up to that perfect ass…it was going to be a living hell knowing I was one floor away from that woman. She tired me out in all the right ways. I chugged more coffee, trying to claw my way to awake. As much as it pained me, I had to admit that I missed her for more than the sex.

I missed her sass. As a matter of fact, she was sharp enough to make me feel like a dull knife at times. Conversations with her kept me up all night considering her notions or the delicate way she turned a phrase. She made me try harder. I’m not saying she was out of my league, but that’s only because my ego won’t allow it. I definitely had to up my game whenever I was with Kelly.

I’d never been involved with someone like her before. She was polished and confident. A respectable lady, teaching young minds and molding future leaders. Her bills were paid, and she didn’t need anyone to take care of her. At least she didn’t think she did.

I knew better. There was a scared little girl hiding inside all the hard work and lean muscle. I’d scratched the surface of her veneer the night she told me about her parents. While her strength was admirable, I could tell she was lonely. She also seemed very used to being that way. I wasn’t used to giving a shit about anyone’s feelings but mine and Junior’s, but when it came to Kelly, my thoughts were tangled in knots.

To be fair to my ex-wife and my other previous conquests, I wasn’t shopping in the same aisle of the store when I found most of them. They were the female equivalent of low lying fruit: convenience store impulse buys who were waiting tables at Hooters or working their way through college cleaning poles. I’d been lucky to stumble upon Kelly, or more accurately, to have her stumble upon me. Since Chickenshit Bingo, I’d tried to go back to my usual hunting grounds, but the experience just wasn’t the same.

Chicken Shit Bingo wasn’t debonair, but the way Kelly had treated me after we’d spent the night together seemed harder to forgive. I’d retaliated with my own bad behavior, and now here we were, with her living upstairs and me not even knowing that she’d moved.

We’d had our ups and downs (not the good kind, though we’d had plenty of those, too) but I found it impossible to forget her. Recalling how beautiful she looked tangled in her white sheets and the filthy things she did so enthusiastically with me, I was tempted to abandon the annoying tattletale and head on upstairs to say hello.

I managed to resist the urge to invite myself to Kelly’s and adulted for a bit longer, nodding at the kid’s story at the appropriate intervals. When he had finally spun down, I’d at least managed to finish most of my coffee.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll take care of it. Now, unless you’re done with that project, I’m assuming you have something you could be doin’?”

It only took a few seconds for him to get the hint.

When he finally scurried away, I refilled my mug and perused the sweet rolls near the pot. Every morning one of the flunkies was tasked with picking up a box of baked goods from Sweetish Hill, the kick ass bakery down the block, and brewing a fresh pot of coffee. After a moment’s consideration, I selected a big hunk of coffee cake and a cinnamon roll. They weren’t quite as good as Molly’s, but she’s a prodigy. I couldn’t expect her to keep bringing us baked goods. Especially since she was so busy changing dirty diapers times two. Eating all this crap would mean I’d have to run extra to work off the calories, but honestly, I didn’t care. Life’s too short to eat oatmeal.

I actually got a blissful nine whole minutes of solitude before the rest of the delinquents came strolling in to work. I swear, sometimes I think Joe is trying to punish me for all the times I got him in trouble when we were kids. Granny always says there’s a special place in Hell for people who drive their parents crazy as teenagers. I guess she’s right, and I’m stuck smack dab in the middle of it.

I trudged back over to my workstation, hoping to extend my moment of sanity. There would be time enough to yell at them after I finished my coffee. As I took a seat, I saw my assistant, Nick, come out of the back office and approach the group.

“Did you two remember to clock out yesterday?” he asked, and their groans echoed throughout the workshop. I nearly joined them. Nick’s lectures were becoming as predictable as the sunrise, and I sighed as I prepared myself to endure his latest tirade. I set my coffee down and pretended to examine the bench I’d just built from reclaimed barn wood. Nick puffed up as he stood in front of the two new interns, and both boys rolled their eyes in unison.

“No,” the taller, uglier one replied, picking up a screw driver in a lame-assed attempt to put on a show that he was actually working.

“What about you?” Nick turned his disapproving gaze on the other kid, who looked like some pretty boy who was trying to fit in with the Sex Pistols.

“I forgot,” the guy replied, a small smirk appearing on his boy-band-wannabe face.

Nick folded his arms and shrugged. “Then I guess yesterday doesn’t count toward your hours.”

Both interns groaned and tried to object but Nick shook his head.

“Save it. I warned y’all about this.” He sounded so authoritative that I couldn’t help but smile. Remembering what a clueless wonder he’d been when he’d first strutted through the shop door, it was hard not to respect the progress he’d made. Though I thought Joe was nuts for hiring him at the time, Nick had proven not only a talented woodworker, but a capable assistant manager for Good Wood.

This was a stroke of luck, because I have enough trouble managing my own checkbook, let alone dealing with today’s snot-nosed youth. Hell, I’d had to hire a cleaning lady so that Mac Junior wasn’t living in squalor. I barely had the energy to keep up my laundry and dishes. I’d long given up on ever getting back to dart league.

Don’t get me wrong: I like people. But I’ve got no interested in being responsible for any of them. It’s why I stopped at one kid, for chrissake. That and my ex was about a loyal as Judas. I’m not the kind of guy people should follow anyhow. I guess you might say I’m more of a ring leader than a leader.

“Dude, you used to be fun,” the tall, spiky-blue-haired kid groused. I’d seen him try this before, with limited success. I think because Nick was close to his age, he thought he could push boundaries with him. Looking at the guy’s pocked skin, I decided he desperately needed to be here. Mentorship in woodworking was a must for him. It was likely he wouldn’t have anyone else touching his wood anytime soon.

Nick’s face turned redder than a stripper’s thigh highs, and my eyebrows hit the ceiling. Nick normally handles shit like that well, but in his defense, these two had been riding him since they started their internships.

“I know, right? Remember when we went to South by Southwest and he drank that bottle of Ten High and pissed in the window of that cop car?” The Jonas Brother-looking kid who said this (I can’t remember either of their names, mostly ‘cause they aren’t important to me) had a ring in his nose like a bull. I wanted to tell him he’d never be a teen model with a pierced septum, but Joe might pull me into the office if I did. My berating the interns had become a ‘thing’ a few months ago. I told a long-gone intern that he was a little bitch after he’d cut the tip of his finger off. In my defense, the kid started bawling like a two year old and running around like an idiot. Joe had pulled me aside, and though he’d laughed as he said it (Joe was as transparent as Scarlett Johansson’s panties in the opening shot of Lost in Translation), Joe said my remark was ‘going too far.’ I got his message loud and clear. He’s the boss...

Frowning at the pierced kid, my still semi-caffeinated brain imagined how easily I could grab him by the nose ring and lead him around the shop. It’d be fun, just like showing a prized heifer at a livestock auction. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not against body art. I have a few tattoos myself, and half of Austin is as pierced as a pin cushion. My own sister has a nose ring, but hers is a tiny little thing in one nostril. She doesn’t look like she belongs in the rodeo like this clown. Granted, that doesn’t stop me from giving her a hard time about it. I truly enjoyed the homicidal look on her face every time I’d tell her she’s about to be an old married woman with children and that she needed to ditch the hipster shit and start shopping at Talbots.

“That was then, and this is now. Now I’m a grown-ass adult, and I act accordingly. Unless you two have decided that working at McDonald’s is your lifelong ambition, you might want to get it together. I never would have vouched for you if I knew you were going to waste our time.”

Nick was letting them stress him out way too much. Joe could say what he liked about my ‘management style,’ but I would have sent these little peckerwoods out the door about three arguments ago. At this rate Nick could end up with an ulcer before he was thirty. I took a few more drinks of my coffee, hoping vainly that they would all just shut up.

“Nick, you’re turning into ‘The Man.’ You know, the one who’s keeping everybody down?” Blue Hair said, and Boy Band laughed. Nick turned an ugly shade of purple, and I exhaled deeply. I recognized that it was time for me to step in before he blew a gasket. Besides, I’d forgotten my earbuds, and I’d be damned if I was going listen to their shit all damn day.

“Hey! Sonic the Hedgehog! Justin Bieber’s Afterbirth! Do what you’re told or get the hell out,” I snapped. All three of their heads whipped in my direction. “And if I hear you’re bothering the folks upstairs again, I’ll tell Joe. You wouldn’t like Joe when he’s angry. Clear?”

I guess it was obvious that I wasn’t joking, because the interns scurried away to act busy in the back room of the shop. Nick smiled, and I heard deep laughter come from behind me. I turned to see that Joe had arrived just in time for the show.

“I see you’re finally taking an interest in the interns.” Joe drawled with that damn smirk that made me all the ladies (including my sister) fall onto their backs. At that moment, all it made me want to do was punch him repeatedly in the mouth.

“Dumb Ass and Tinkerbell need to learn how to use the damn time clock. They want to work for free, that’s fine by me. But bitchin’ at Nick because they won’t play by the rules ain’t gonna happen. Nobody yells at Nick but me…well and…you, I guess. Plus they’re bothering your tenants, and sneaking chicks in here at night to show off their handiwork.”

“I’ll talk to them.” Joe crouched down, scrutinizing my work briefly before meeting my eyes. Though he seemed a little haggard, he looked better than he had in a long time. “Look, man. I know you’ve had to carry a lot of extra shit lately…”

I held up my hand. “Don’t. I don’t want you to give this place a second thought. My sister and the twins need you a hell of a lot more than we do.”

Joe gave me a rueful grin before glancing over his shoulder at the interns on the far side of the shop.

“I know you never wanted to supervise people.” Joe stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The fact that he hadn’t removed his jacket told me he wasn’t staying long. I wasn’t surprised. He had a standing appointment with his shrink every other Thursday.

“Dude…I’ve been doing this as long as you have.” It sounded cocky, but he knew I was right. “I’ll keep them from burning the place down. Just go tell Nick the details and go the hell home.”

“Thanks, Mac.” Joe mumbled, and I felt like an asshole.

“Don’t thank me.” My exasperation might have seemed over the top, but he pissed me off with his constant politeness. He still didn’t have it through his thick skull that I didn’t feel obligated to do what I did for him—I was obligated. “We’re fucking family, Joe.”

Joe must have wanted to change the subject, because he jumped topics like a bullfrog. “So did you get a chance to read through the human resources packet?”

I flipped him the bird, and he smirked again. “Yes, I did, Boss. We made these little bastards sign an “At Will” work agreement. Tamryn may be off the normal law circuit, but she made that thing bulletproof.”

Joe chuckled. His sister, Tamryn, was a bonafide shark. She’d been one hell of an attorney, but once she hit the jackpot and married her loaded husband, she’d hung up her legal hat and became a stay-at-home mom. It didn’t stop her from helping Joe out pro bono whenever something came up for the shop. “They signed away their right to sue for verbal abuse. Subsection 8, paragraph 6. I made a photocopy of that part and hung it in your office.”

Joe’s eyes lit with amusement, but the expression quickly transformed to worry. It was his go-to look these days.

“Still, we want to make sure they don’t have grounds—” he mumbled, but I interrupted him with a rude noise.

“Fuck them. They want to learn? We’ll teach them. They want me to wipe their ass? They can hit the bricks.”

“You don’t think that’s a little harsh?” Joe sighed, glancing at his phone. I wondered if he was checking the time or if Molly was buzzing him. Either way, I knew he was on his way out the door.

“The world is harsh, brother. We just live in it.” It came out more brusquely than I intended, and he looked at me carefully for a second. I turned away, not wanting him prying into what was making me so moody. I’d managed to keep my drama under wraps, and Joe couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. Besides, even if I wanted to have a heart-to-heart, he didn’t have the kind of time it would take to discuss my issues.

“Right,” Joe said, taking the hint. He headed off towards the office Nick had disappeared into.

I mentally kicked myself for the unintended dig about what kind of world we live in.

Way to go Mac. Like Joe needs to be reminded of that.

“THERE SHE IS!” Mom gushed, hurrying toward me at baggage claim. In her lavender pantsuit and with her perfectly coiffed hair, she looked like an aging Miss America. She pulled me into a showy hug, and it was hard to miss her new diamond anniversary band sparkling on her finger. “You look so thin! As much as I hate to admit it, Texas agrees with you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied, knowing this was the ultimate compliment from her. I shifted my carry-on from one arm to the other as she inspected me. I was relieved when my stepfather appeared next to her, smiling his overly white smile. Side by side, they looked like AARP Barbie and Ken.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Bart said to me. His dimpled grin and sculpted hair made him look like a greying anchorman.

“Bartholomew.” I nodded at him. Bart had been with my mom since I was a senior in high school. Though they hadn’t married until the summer after my sophomore year in college, he’d been a stable fixture in my life for many years. He’d come along after the worst of times, and I had nothing bad to say about the guy, other than that he had a tendency to overindulge my mother and her mercurial whims.

“Let me get your suitcase,” he offered, taking my rolling bag away from me.

“Thanks,” I said, and he winked in response. We knew each other pretty well, Bart and I. He was the first boyfriend of Mom’s after Dad vanished whom I actually liked, so I was glad he’d stuck it out with her. Bart was there when I graduated high school, when Mom blew up at me for refusing to apply to a college in Denver, and when I announced I was moving to Michigan to take my first teaching job. He’d also been there through Mom’s early retirement from teaching to go into real estate, and when that proved to be “too stressful,” he supported her third “reimagining” of herself as a yoga/Pilates instructor.

Mom had originally quit teaching when I was in fourth grade. Dad had just been promoted after landing some monster accounts, and my parents decided they no longer needed her modest teaching salary. She kept plenty busy, volunteering for various organizations and “keeping house.” She’d already been hunting for a teaching job when my dad disappeared, and knowing what I know now about their financial situation, that made sense. When she finally found one, it was in another school district, but that was for the best since we couldn’t afford to live in our old neighborhood anyway.

“Did you get the birthday gift I sent?” Mom asked, pulling me back to the present.

“I just got it the day before yesterday.” I said, holding up my gold charm bracelet so she could see that I was wearing it. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I booked us a spa day tomorrow. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a chance to spoil my baby.” She pulled down her sun-visor to admire herself in the mirror. “We’ll get our hair done, too. My gray is showing.”

“I don’t see a single gray, Candice.” Bart said, winning himself a dazzling smile from my mother. Seeing their matching Colgate smiles, I sucked in a breath.

“Crap! I think I forgot to pack my toothbrush.” I slapped myself on the forehead. I always forgot something critical when I traveled, and since I’d seen Mac’s pull up outside the shop when I was packing the car for the airport, I hadn’t gone back in to do my usual last minute double check. He’d waved to me as he parked the truck, his eyes scanning my suitcase and carry-on. I waved back, but when he hopped out and started in the direction of my car, I’d nearly backed into a garbage truck in my rush to get away. The truck blared its horn just in time, and I’d survived to make an ass out of myself another day. I couldn’t even look at Mac, figuring he had a good laugh at one more Kelly Palmer near-death experience. I wasn’t sure what it was about Mac Hildebrandt, but I had a feeling if I ever died in some freak accident, it was going to be because he was hanging around nearby.

“We still have the caddy if you need to run out for anything.” Bart offered. “The keys are hanging in the garage. Feel free to use it while you’re here.”

When we finally entered their palatial home, I was exhausted from listening to my mother name drop a bunch of local celebrities who frequented her new studio. Desperate to escape her blathering, I tried to remember where the guest room was. She and Bart had bought this house when I’d moved to Detroit, and instead of downsizing like most normal empty nesters did, they actually acquired a place with an additional two thousand square feet. I’d only been back to visit three times since they’d had the place. Since my mother remodeled and redecorated constantly, it was always a guessing game where I’d sleep and what the place would look like.

“Down the hall, last door on the right.” Bart whispered to me, and I gave him a sly grin for reading my mind.

“We’re having dinner by the pool in an hour,” my mother called after me, and I waved in acknowledgment.

When I finally got to my room, I closed the door behind me and was tempted to lock it. It was a room I’d stayed in before, but she had made another pass at the decor. This time, it was done in my favorite shade of deep red, and the materials and accents had a distinctly Moroccan feel. I assumed this was an extension of Mom’s “yoga period,” but it was lovely, and I collapsed on the bed with a heavy sigh.

The netting over the bed had an exotic, sexy feel and when my mind inevitably wandered to Mac, I jumped off the bed like it was on fire. I hurried into the adjoining bathroom to unpack my stuff and saw that my mother had fully stocked it with toiletries. I glanced in the mirror and wondered what I should get done to my hair at the salon. Realizing it was summer and no one would be around to appreciate anything I did to glam myself up took most of the fun out of the idea of a makeover.

I wandered back into the bedroom again and picked up my phone from its spot beside my purse. Before I even realized I was doing it, I searched Mac’s name on Facebook, and went to his page. I did this once in a while, and though he almost never posted, there were two new entries.

The newest entry was a selfie of him with Mac Junior at M.J.’s school graduation the week before. Junior looked pretty spiffy in his collared shirt and graduation cap. He and Mac both looked incredibly serious in the picture, and Mac’s comment on the photo was “Me and The Little Man. He’s not so little anymore—haha!”

My eyes stung, but I smiled just the same as I clicked on the picture of the two of them for a better look. My friend, Jane, had quietly kept me in the loop on M.J.’s progress, and she’d said that he’d finished the school year strong. My talk with Mac seemed to have helped Junior, so even though it was the ultimate demise for Mac and me, it was still totally worth doing. If given the chance, I’d do it all over again.

The other new post was an album of pictures of him, Joe, and Mason at a best shot golf outing that was dated two weekends before the graduation pic. The three of them were all goofing around in typical fashion, and Mac seemed to be all smiles. Seeing him so happy made me happy, and I scrolled through a few older pictures, just to torture myself. I was surprised to see one of us together at the 5K way back when and figured he’d just forgotten to take it down. Feeling a little snuffly, I logged out and took a cool shower.

Mom outdid herself at dinner, which was a lovely organic feast. She talked about how Bart’s boss’s wife got her into digital scrapbooking and how she’d been going through old photo albums and scanning in pictures. She wanted to know if I wanted some of the old albums when she was done with them, and I nodded. Now that I was in Joe’s apartment, I actually had the room to keep some things for sentimental reasons.

The three of us had a lovely visit, and Mom managed to get all the way through the meal without commenting on how much or little I ate.

“So are you all unpacked in your new place?” she asked, dishing out desert to both Bart and me.

“Yes.” I replied. “I have so much more space, I’m not sure what do with all of it. I may get an exercise bike for my spare room to use on rainy days.”

“You might want to save some of that space.” My mother lifted a knowing eyebrow. “Last time I called Annette, she mentioned that cool drink of water with the blue eyes was taking you out again.” I laughed, and when they continued to stare at me expectantly I was forced to offer some response.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I finally replied with polite deference. Meanwhile, I plotted Annette’s demise for betraying me.

“She also mentioned that he has a son,” Mom added, and I had a hard time keeping a poker face.

“He does, but Mac and I aren’t seeing each other anymore,” I replied, fighting to keep all emotion out of my voice. I could tell by the look on both of their faces that I wasn’t incredibly successful.

“So are you seeing somebody new?” Bart asked. “Your mother seems to think you’ve got some secret boyfriend you aren’t telling us about.”

“No,” I responded, forcing a smile. “It turns out I’m not a very good girlfriend.”

“I find that hard to believe, Kelly,” my mother insisted.

“It’s his loss,” Bart agreed, and his kind smile made me want to blab everything to them about Mac. In the end, I just couldn’t do it. Even though our fight in Mac’s kitchen had been weeks ago, his scathing accusations were still very fresh in my mind.

Thankfully, Mom and Bart seemed to understand that I was done with the topic, and they changed the subject. Both of them proceeded to grill me about my plans for summer vacation and my new school. Mom asked whether I planned to sign on for another year.

“I’m in love with Austin,” I replied, taking a small bite of mom’s vegan strawberry “cheesecake.” It was hideous, and I fought to keep a neutral expression. “I’ve already signed another contract. Frankly, I see myself staying permanently.”

They exchanged a heavy look, and my mother cleared her throat. “How are things with your father?”

I looked up at her in surprise. She looked genuinely curious, so I took the question at face value.

“They’re good.” Ignoring the weight of her gaze, I elaborated. “It’s taken some time, but we’re finally getting to know each other. It’s going to be odd living across the hall from him. We’ll have more opportunities to randomly interact. I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or not.”

“Don’t let your guard down, Kelly,” my mother said. Bart shot her a disapproving look, and she held his gaze for a moment, then dropped her eyes and sighed. “I just hate to see you hurt if he falls off the wagon.”

“He’s doing really well, considering.” I said stiffly. I paused for a moment, trying to decide if I was ready to open Pandora’s Box. “He’s been filling in gaps for me…about his history and mine. It’s been pretty enlightening.”

There was a very long moment in which the air around us seemed to go rancid and thin.

“Excuse me,” my mother said, wiping her mouth and hurrying inside. Bart and I exchanged wary looks, and I sighed and tossed my napkin onto my plate.

“I’m sorry,” I said, though I felt like I shouldn’t be. She’d asked, and I’d answered. But I knew my mother, and she preferred illusion to reality nine times out of ten.

“Don’t be,” Bart replied, pushing his dessert away untouched. “I have some real cheesecake hidden in the freezer down in the bar. Turtle Cheesecake. You want some?”

“That would be lovely,” I replied.

We relocated to his basement bar, which was bigger than Ginny’s Little Longhorn Saloon. We indulged in a stiff drink and some proper cheesecake, and I explained my arrangement with my dad and how well it had been working. I gave Bart the broad strokes of Dad’s story, knowing that though he wasn’t exactly a neutral party, he’d never known my father and therefore had no real reason to get bent out of shape about things. As I was winding down, I noticed he seemed a little uncomfortable.

“I need to learn to shut my mouth,” I sighed. I hadn’t meant to upset Bart, and I shot back the rest of my drink.

“Nah,” Bart replied, shaking his head. “If you ask me, you spent a lot of time not speaking up when you should have. There were a lot of times when you were growing up that you handled your mom well. In fact, I was kind of taking notes at the time. I’ve used your techniques quite often, and they work well. Sometimes you seemed more like you were parenting her than the other way around, kiddo. I love your mother, but she’s only contented as long as she gets to orchestrate. Sometimes though, you have to rock the boat. If you never have the conversations that you want to have with her, then you will never get to really know your mother. She’s hurt, you know, because she thinks you are choosing him over her.” I started to protest, and he raised a hand to stop me. “I’m not saying she’s right or that she’s wrong. I’m probably saying more than I should. I just think you have an opportunity, if you are brave enough to take it, to really get to know her.”

I nodded, impressed by his uncharacteristic verbosity.

“You’re pretty smart for a Broncos fan.” I teased him as I held up the bottle, silently asking if he wanted a refill. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader now. I may have to disown you.”

After listening to my mother talk about my second cousin’s wedding in enough detail for me to know what color her bra and underwear had been, I was relieved when our tandem massages were over. I wasn’t sure if she thought I’d catch wedding fever like a venereal disease, but whatever her plan was, it wasn’t working.

I got thirty minutes of solitude for a facial, and I managed to relax while my aesthetician exfoliated me with some orange-peel concoction. As the spa music lulled me into a peaceful state, my thoughts immediately ended up with Mac. I’d been up in the middle of the night looking at his Facebook again, and I was seriously thinking of blocking him for my own sake. I was torn between wanting to call him and needing to get over him.

Mason had posted to Mac’s wall about picking out tuxes with Joe. There were about seven pictures, one of Mac Junior and Mason’s son trying on top hats, one where Joe’s mother was holding up a charcoal jacket with tails and Joe was looking on in horror. Mason had tagged Mac and Joe in a picture where they were shirtless, wearing just their bow ties and tux pants. They looked like drunk male strippers, and dozens of people were liking and commenting with obnoxious approval. The familiar sight of Mac shirtless tormented me, and I flipped my phone upside down and covered my head with my pillow.

Thrusting Mac from my mind for the thousandth time since I’d arrived in Colorado, I focused on my breathing. Since that day at his house, he’d only called me once, but it was in the middle of the night. I chalked it up to a butt dial or a beer-fueled booty call. Luckily, I’d slept through it, or we probably would have ended up repeating our poor decision making, and things would have been even harder for me.

I needed to move on, and to do that I had to quit obsessing. It was time for me to stop trying to breathe life into an almost-relationship that was past the point of saving. If there was one decent piece of advice I’d received from my mother since my arrival (besides “cut out all dairy”), it was not to live in the past or with an eye to the future, but to focus on the now. What my now entailed was to have a very uncomfortable conversation with my mother, and I was trying to decide how to start said conversation.

I’d finally worked myself up by the time we were halfway through getting our hair done. After listening to my mother brag about how she’d treated me to this spa day for the sixth time, I was ready to pull the ripcord. She didn’t bother being quiet about it. She simply spoke about me like I wasn’t even there, as if I were a prop in her life. When she started in about how I was a school teacher (even though she’d encouraged me to go to med school) and how all of this was a luxury I couldn’t often afford, I clenched my back teeth together to keep from screaming.

“Is she always like this?” My hairdresser whispered, blinking at me in astonishment as he checked my foils.

“Pretty much,” I replied.

“Want a glass of champagne?” he asked, and feeling I could use a little liquid courage, I opened my mouth to accept when my mother chimed in.

“She’ll pass. She’s training for a marathon,” she beamed, as if I was a toddler who’d just taken her first step.

‘“Half-marathon,” I interjected. “And yes, I think I will have a glass, thank you.”

“Kelly…do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, Bart said you had cheesecake and drinks with him last night. I know the race isn’t for six months or so, but still…that’s not much of a training plan.”

A strange calm settled over me, yet the terrified expression on my stylist’s face told me just how psychotic I looked.

“Why don’t you focus on your appearance, Mother, and let me focus on mine.”

“I’m just trying to help, Kelly.” She turned to her stylist conspiratorially. “She’s always been thinned skinned about her looks. She was a chubby girl in junior high, can you believe it?”

“She’s right. Food was my friend,” I said to my own stylist, who was staring at my mother in disbelief. “God knows I needed one since I had to leave all mine behind when the bank repossessed our house.”

The expression of scandalized horror that my mother wore was incredibly satisfying.

“Yes…well…,” she sputtered, trying desperately to recover and find a way to spin the facts so that she could keep her cosmopolitan reputation. “At least you had one parent who was there to make sure you had a roof over your head.”

“Maybe if you’d paid as much attention to what you spent back then as you did my caloric intake, we wouldn’t have ended up in that mess in the first place,” I shot back, and the gasps from both stylists were like music to my ears.

“Why you ungrateful little shit!” My mother was on her feet, and pointing her French-manicured finger at me. Her foil filled hair made her look like a red-faced alien life-form. “I’m the reason you had food to stuff your face with! You’re where you are today because of my sacrifices.”

“What sacrifices?” I asked, not even raising my voice. “Actually having to get up in the morning and go to work?”

She seethed. “You have no idea the things I did for you.”

“Oh…I have an idea or two about your sacrifices,” I replied, noticing that everyone within earshot had turned to watch the show that was our mother/daughter smack-down.

She took a step closer to me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just find it very convenient how easily you replaced Dad with a new dance partner,” I glowered at her. “Or was that just trading up? More long term financial planning?”

“I cannot believe you’re talking to me this way,” she growled, going back to her chair. She sat down and folded her arms. “It’s obvious you’ve been brainwashed by your good-for-nothing father.”

“He was good enough when you were cashing his checks,” I spat, and that shut her up. I wasn’t quite finished. “And for the record, Dad refuses to say anything bad about you.”

My mother burst into sobs, and I just spun in my chair so I didn’t have to watch her display.

“Let’s go put you under the dryer,” my mother’s stylist said, pulling her by the arm toward the next room.

‘You’re ready to rinse,” my stylist interjected, a wide smile on his face.

“I’m so sorry.” My face burned, and I realized just how many eyes were on me.

“Honey.” He grinned, looking as giddy as a school girl. “I wanted to give you a standing ovation. If she weren’t paying the bill, I totally would have.”

Unsurprisingly, I got the silent treatment all the way back to the house. I’d even complimented her new hairstyle to no avail. She went straight to her room and didn’t come out for dinner. Bart was a trooper; then again he was as used to her moods as I was. Rather than sit down and eat without her, I went to find the drama queen.

I found her, firmly ensconced in one of the cavernous bedrooms she’d converted into her scrapbooking room. Even knowing her like I did, the multi-table crafting mecca was beyond my imagination, with racks of ribbon, paper, glue sticks and every conceivable artistic tool lining the walls. Sitting in a high backed, ergonomic, silk-upholstered chair, my mother didn’t look up as I entered. The sound of small whimpers came from her as she vigorously wiped her nose.

Guilt echoed vacantly in the back of my head, but it felt more like a ghostly obligation rather than the emotion itself. She’d been like this all of my life. Whenever we argued, she retreated. I was always the one forced to seek her out.

I wondered what she’d do when the day came that I didn’t come after her.

That thought, childishly viscous, did give me a pang of true guilt. Because I knew that day wasn’t far off and I didn’t want to lose one parent to gain another.

I waited, leaning against the inside of the door frame, for her to acknowledge my presence. When she finally did, it was prefaced with a dramatically deep sigh.

“Kelly, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve to be treated this way. Only worked my fingers to the bone to make sure you had what you needed. And what do I get for all my sacrifices? A daughter who humiliates me in public! I will never be able to show my face in that salon again!”

I held my tongue, though it was a near thing. Sucks to be on the receiving end, doesn’t it Mom? But of course, this isn’t about your horrible behavior toward me. Taking a breath, I ran through a mental exercise to calm my racing heart before I replied. When I spoke, I was proud of how calm I sounded.

“It needed to be said, but doing so publicly was counter-productive. It’s unfortunate that our personal business was aired that way. I don’t enjoy fighting with you.”

She glanced at me over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes.

“Don’t try to handle me, Raquel. I’m not some difficult student you need to reason with.”

I managed to wait for her to turn around before I rolled my eyes. She only used my given name when I was really at the top of her shit list. Her description was strangely apt, except my students were small children and usually grew out of their behaviors. Still, I’d come in to diffuse the situation, not start round two, tempting as that was. She fiddled with the scrapbook in front of her for a moment, then tossed down the book and wheeled in her chair.

“Why can’t you just apologize like a normal person?” she asked. Rising from the chair, she walked away from me to a table near the far wall. “I never asked to be a single mother. When your father abandoned us, I did everything I could to provide for you. I was there when you needed me. I was the one who raised you. Is it too much to ask that you be on my side?”

The tears running down her cheeks tugged at my heart. Even so, I refused to enable her by actually apologizing. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I had only been defending myself from her constant verbal attacks.

“It’s easy,” she said quietly, “to look back on my choices and be critical. I was raised to believe I’d go to college to meet my husband. My parents groomed me that way. Things were different back then. Men were expected to be the bread winners. Most women were still at home, taking care of the house. When your father left us, he humiliated me on every level possible. I had to deal with losing everything we’d worked for, the house, the car, the piano, and our club membership. Everyone we knew had front row seats for my embarrassing descent. I had to face all of that, by myself! Your father just ran away, like the coward he was. I was left to explain to you why we had to leave it all behind and move to a dingy little apartment. You didn’t understand any of it then, but you’re old enough to understand now. It’s unthinkable that you would not take my side after all we’ve been through.”

She was revving up for a full on tirade, but I’d listened to enough. Before I could stop myself, I stepped forward until I was standing face-to-face with her. I did it so quickly that she actually blanched a little, as if afraid I was going to slap her.

“I was a kid. I never should have had to pick a side. I still shouldn’t. He’s my dad. I shouldn’t have to choose between the two of you. I shouldn’t have to listen to you constantly disparaging every feature of mine that reminds you of him. I shouldn’t have to feel like my mother despises part of who I am. I’ve never been sure if you hate me because I remind you of him…or of yourself.”

She pressed both of her hands to her stomach as if I had physically struck her there. “I did my best! It wasn’t easy,” she began. I cut off her excuse. Unwilling to listen to the same old song and dance from her.

“Dad refused to say a single bad thing about you. At all. But I have eyes, mom. I remember. The shopping trips, the vacations, the lavish parties thrown almost monthly at the house. As a kid, I never gave it a second thought. Now I realize that we were living outside of our means even when dad was at his most successful. He had to be out on the road half the time just to keep up with your spending. When things slowed down for him, there was no safety net.”

Her cheeks were flushed, and when she spoke it was with an icy tone.

“So that’s it? You blame me for your father’s choices? Is that how it’s going to be?”

“No, mom,” I replied. “Unlike you, dad owns his mistakes. He has plenty of them; don’t get me wrong. But at least he admits that he screwed up. And he isn’t the only one who made mistakes. You were the homemaker. Doesn’t that mean that you should have been paying off our bills? Putting money away for a rainy day? Economizing? Because I don’t remember any of that. Did it ever occur to you that if you’d done your job we might have been okay? That when dad hit a slump, he wouldn’t have had to be out on the road almost every day of the year just to keep you in the style to which you were accustomed? Because it sure as hell has occurred to me.”

She put a hand over her mouth, stifling sobs as she collapsed into her chair. The girl in me reveled at this. Mostly, I just felt sick. This was the woman who wiped my tears, held my hand when I was scared, kept me safe until I was an adult. She wasn’t perfect; but she was my mother, and I loved her. Kneeling in front of her, I pulled her into an embrace. She put up token resistance, then fell against me, sobbing into my shoulder. It took a few minutes for her to calm down, and by the time she did, I knew what I needed to say to her.

“Mom?” I waited until she looked up into my eyes. “I love you very much. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I know you went through a lot. I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful. But I want both my mom and dad in my life, and I need you to be supportive, not tear me down. There’s plenty of people waiting in line to do that.”

My lungs hurt, and my hamstrings were killing me. After my conversation with my mother, I had to move, and there was no better backdrop than the great outdoors. The incredible majesty of the mountains helped to counterbalance running in higher altitudes and helped distract me a little from how much it was currently kicking my ass.

As cathartic as it had been to finally tell my mom off, it hadn’t solved much. Though I felt like I’d turned some sort of a corner, it felt like little more than a coming-of-age moment that I should have had years ago. Standing up for myself was so long overdue that I didn’t even feel victorious. It just left me feeling hollow…empty…and lonelier than ever.

As I turned down the next block, I thought long and hard about the way I’d treated both of my parents. How I’d lashed out at them for the pain they’d caused me and each other all those years ago. So far, I was the only person who hadn’t had to answer to anyone for the way I’d failed to cope. This realization stopped me in my tracks. I pondered this as I paced back and forth, trying to catch my breath in the thin air.

I’d spent so much time and effort trying to safeguard myself from feeling too deeply and losing control that I wasn’t living any kind of life. But realizing this truth and changing it were two drastically different things. I knew I needed to let go, not entirely like my father with his drugs and my mother with her spending; but I had to ease up on the reigns, or I’d never be close to anyone. I had to take a few chances.

And I knew just where I wanted to start.

Finding the nearest park bench, I pulled out my phone, and with The Rockies as my witness, I dialed Mac Hildebrandt’s number. My heart felt like it was blocking my windpipe, and I was trembling all over as I listened to it ring.

“Hey.” The immediate warmth I heard in his deep voice made me put a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that nearly escaped me. Completely unprepared for my intense reaction, I inhaled deeply through my nostrils as I tried to get it together.

“Kelly?” he asked. He sounded as if he was worried that we had a bad connection. I released a shaky breath and plunged forward.

“Hi.” I said, sounding all wispy and artificial.

“What’s wrong?” Blatant alarm altered his normally rich tone.

“I just missed hearing your voice; that’s all.” It wasn’t entirely false, but it was a lot more honesty than I’d intended. I heard him exhale and feared he’d hang up before I could say what I needed to say.

“Look, Sugar—” he started, but I’d come this far and I had to get it all out. Everything.

“Mac,” I interrupted. “I’m so sorry. I know you think I’m the biggest bitch, but I never meant to cause trouble for you and M.J.”

“Kelly, I know—” he murmured, but I wasn’t done.

“I’m a total fuck up, and I went about things totally backwards. I never thought for one second that you were neglecting him. I would have handled things a hell of a lot better if it weren’t for fucking Paula! She took a picture of us at Fixe and shared it all over the internet and I thought I was going to lose my job—”

“What?” he blurted, but I plundered right on without so much as a pause.

“She got into trouble instead of me, but I freaked out and ditched you at my place, and now you probably hate me. I miss you, and I’m a total dick, and I’m so sorry.” Now that I’d said it all, and so badly, I finally took a breath. I realized that he’d fallen silent, and my skin started to crawl as I worried that he’d hung up on me.

“Are you still there?” I whispered, feeling like an idiot.

Then, as if he were standing directly beside me whispering in my ear, I heard the deep rumble of his voice. “I’m still here.”

I waited. I wanted to fill the silence, but it wasn’t mine to fill.

“Kelly…” My name sounded reverent rolling off his tongue. I’d always hated my nickname, though Kelly was a vast improvement over my given name. Hearing Mac say it suddenly made it a hell of a lot more appealing. “I tried to call you.”

“I know. I didn’t hear the phone…” I could hear all sorts of ruckus in the background wherever he was, and it suddenly occurred to me that he hadn’t just been sitting around waiting for me to call. “You’re out with someone.”

“Yeah…” he responded, his reluctance to admit it to me obvious.

“I shouldn’t have ambushed you,” I hurried to backpedal. “I’ll let you get back to your date.”

He laughed good-naturedly, and I wasn’t sure whether to be angry or comforted by the sound.

“Kelly, just stop,” he insisted. His placating delivery was like a chiffon throw around me, and I perked up immediately. “I’m at Chuck E Cheese with M.J. One of his classmates is having a birthday party. I’m staring down a six-foot, four-inch furry rat as we speak.”

I laughed, and the tension just seemed to flow out of my body.

“The party’s over at seven.” His anxious words sounded rich like honey. “We’ll be home by about seven forty-five if you want to come over.”

“Oh,” I sighed, wishing like hell it was a possibility. “No, I can’t.”

“Junior sleeps like a log and he’s going to be out the second his head hits the pillow tonight, guaranteed.” He sounded emphatic, and I was a willing mark for his sales-pitch. “I need to see you, Sugar.”

“I’m in Colorado,” I admitted. “Visiting my mom.”

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath. “When are you coming home?”

Mom and I spent the next few days going through her scrap books. It’s what she wanted to do, but it also opened the door for me to ask a lot of lingering questions. She swore she hadn’t been seeing Dad’s boss before his disappearance. She claimed it started the day we went to see him at the office, and I decided I believed her. The timing of their relationship had been a festering point of contention that I was glad to let rest.

When we got to my senior pictures in her latest scrapbook, I burst out laughing at the dated fashions and hair.

Mom smiled. “You were always so pretty, Raquel. You really did get the best of both of us.”

I surveyed my mother over the open scrapbook on my lap and was surprised to see her wistful expression looked genuine. “Then why did you harp on me about my skin all the time? You slapped me when I gained ten pounds and told me I looked like I was pregnant.”

Though I said these things without any of the animosity I’d felt at the time, she started crying again. Only this time, her tears weren’t loud and showy.

“I hoped you’d forget those things.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “I was always so jealous of how you looked. I’ve always struggled with my weight, and your dad was a beanpole. You were always like him. When you started eating junk, I worried for you. My mom always beat it into me that my looks were everything…my only valuable commodity, really. I’m sorry if I passed all of that onto you. I guess we’re all just products of our childhoods.”

I never knew my father’s parents. They both died long before I was born. He was ten years older than my mother, and they’d met at the country club where my mother’s parents were members. She was from Chicago, but we’d rarely gone to visit. My mother’s folks sent me birthday cards and called on occasion, but we visited them very sporadically, and it was always a very formal affair. I was too young to remember much about them. Not having Grandmas and Grandpas in my life was always a sore spot for me as a kid. I envied my friends who went to grandmas for the holidays. From the expression on Mom’s face, I had a feeling I was better for missing the experience.

“Here’s one you might like. This one has your dad in it.” She handed me a small scrap book that looked brand new. I opened it to the page she’d place-marked, and the photo took my breath away.

“You loved that swimsuit. You never wanted to take it off.” She beamed, and the flood of images that accompanied the photo were more than I was prepared to deal with. The swimsuit was red, with white polka dots. I looked to be about four years old. My mother sat beside me, and on the other end of the photograph was my father, looking much younger and less weathered by the hands of time.

Memories flickered like an old pull chain light coming to life. Orange Creamsicles, the smell of saltwater, and Daddy singing me to sleep with the song “San Antonio Rose.” I remembered Mommy’s laugh, as light and airy as a spring rain as she helped me build sandcastles. My memories weren’t all rainbows and sunshine, but it didn’t mean there weren’t a few that were exactly that.

A large fold mark marred the center of the picture, and I ran my finger down it slowly, understanding all of the symbolism associated with the crease. I understood why my mother had folded him out of the picture for so many years, but I was grateful that as angry as she’d been, she’d never stopped to take scissors to it.

“I’m sorry,” Mom said, seeing my distress at the scarred photo. “For a long, long time, I couldn’t look at him. Not even in a photograph.”

“He told me about this. The swimsuit. But I didn’t remember,” I mused, studying the photograph closely. I looked at the couple smiling at each other over my tiny head, and wondered if they knew then what they know now, if they’d have bothered having me at all.

“You were pretty little,” she offered, turning the page for me to see a few more photos of my dad that had somehow managed to survive throughout the years. Me on the piano bench with Dad (I looked to be about ten), me near the picture window with my father, wearing a crown of flowers on my head.

“I don’t remember any of these,” I admitted, feeling a bit mystified. Mom nodded sheepishly.

“I boxed them all up. I destroyed the rest of the pictures he was in. Had a little bonfire one night after you told me not to talk to you about your dad. Do you remember that?”

I nodded. In her grief, Mom had taken to venting to me about him and all the problems his leaving had caused us. She’d tell me details I had no business knowing as a kid. It was hard to hear those things about him, though I was as angry at him as she was. Finally, I blew up at her one day and yelled at her to not talk about my dad like that. She’d clammed up after that, though it hadn’t stopped the occasional snide comment.

“This is about all that’s left.” She glanced at me nervously. “I’m sorry, hon. I should have saved them all for you. Hindsight is always clear as crystal, know what I mean?”

“Can I have these?” I cradled the scrapbook close to my chest, as if she might decide to snatch it from me and hurry off to the fireplace.

“Of course you can. I made it for you.” She gave me a little side hug, and for the first time since my father had resurfaced, I had a real sense that my own version of “family” was coming together.

I KNEW THAT showing up at the airport was a ballsy move. Kelly would either be overjoyed to see me, or she would think I was a stalker and tell me to get lost for good. Honestly, I hadn’t really planned on being there. She’d told me when her flight was coming in, and I planned to make myself available that night in case she wanted to go out. My plan was to play it cool, let her come to me, and try to retain some of my dignity. That plan got all shot to shit that morning when I got out of bed.

MJ was with his mom, and Patty had been on her best behavior lately. She’d even taken him down to Schlitterbahn, a nearby water park. They’d caravanned down with her sister’s family, which was the most ambitious Patty had been when it came to doing something M.J. was interested in since he’d been born. The way she’d been acting, I was starting to think we were turning a corner with her bullshit antics.

Since I had the day to myself, I’d planned on taking my bike out for a long ride in the country. But it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. Knowing when and where Kelly would be sealed the deal. I realized that without even trying, she’d wrapped me around her little finger the night I’d spoiled her blind date with the Rhinestone Cowboy. Once I acknowledged this truth, a sense of calm came over me.

So it really wasn’t surprising when I found myself in the short term parking at the Austin Airport. I wandered inside and checked the board. I’d arrived just in time; Kelly’s plane had just landed and she was probably waiting at the baggage carousel. I hurried to catch her.

I came through the crowd just as she was about to grab her bag off the belt, and I snatched it up and away from her. Turning toward me with fiery eyes, she froze when she realized it was me who’d taken her suitcase. Her face lit up in surprise and joy. She dropped her purse and carry-on and rushed toward me, fusing her lips to mine with such possessive ferocity that I nearly fell over. I carefully released her suitcase and wrapped my arms around her tiny frame, savoring the familiar taste and scent of her. When she finally let me up for air, her arms remained around my neck, as if she was afraid I’d get away from her again if she did.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she purred, then her eyes went wide and shifty. “Did you bring M.J. with you?”

“Nope, he’s off with his mom,” I said, running my thumb across her delicious lips. She visibly relaxed, and it felt as if she was melting into me. “You got me all to yourself. Wanna go out?”

“No.” She replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’d like to stay in, if it’s all the same to you.”

She followed me back to my place, and we spent the day testing the tensile strength of most of the furniture in my house. The faces she made while we were in the throes made it hard for me to hold back sometimes. Hell, just being in the same room with her constantly gave me wood.

One piece of furniture didn’t survive our sex marathon, but I assured Kelly it’d be better than new when I was done with it. She laughed, a genuine, jubilant sound, and when she nestled down into my arms, I didn’t want to give her up.

She told me all about the incident with the nosy secretary and Principal Higgins, and though the entire story pissed me off, I laughed at the Principal’s reaction.

“I still can’t be in the office for more than a few minutes at a time because I don’t trust myself not to do something evil to Paula,” she said, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. She was about as ferocious as Bambi, but it was fun to watch her all riled up.

She talked a little about her visit with her mom, and I was surprised to hear that that relationship was just as questionable, but far more complicated than the one with Francis. I laughed my ass off when she told me about the two of them having it out in the spa. After what Joe had told me about her jumping Francis’s shit at the shop, this occurrence really didn’t surprise me.

“You’re a little spitfire, Sugar,” I mused, brushing her silky hair out of the way so that I could look into those amazing eyes of hers. “Ya gonna punish me if I piss you off?”

“You want me to?” Her lip curled coyly, and I was turned on all over again.

We spent the next couple of hours arguing over whether to watch American Ninja Warrior or Downton Abbey. She teased me when she found salad and freshly squeezed orange juice in my fridge, but I refused to serve it to her. I ordered Armadillo Eggs and ribs and teased her until she ate some. Later that night before we drifted off, Kelly told me she would only stay over when M.J. wasn’t home. As she put it, “We don’t want to confuse him. This is our business, and we need to try to keep it private.”

It was a thoroughly tiring and satisfying weekend. By the time I went to pick up MJ the following afternoon, Kelly had me feeling like a teenager again. Junior was all happy chatter about his time with his mother, and Patty was almost friendly to me. For the first time in a long-ass stretch, everything in my world seemed right.

As the night wore on, and after I got Junior into the bathtub, doubt slowly crept in. Kelly was a complicated, worldly woman, and I was just a redneck from Texas. It seemed like it would only be a matter of time before she’d wise up and give me “the talk.” My buddies and I had all been on the receiving end of “the talk” at one time or another. Well, maybe not Joe, but everyone else I knew. The “it’s not you; it’s me” talk. It was usually the result of a woman realizing that she could do so much better than you.

Weeks passed and “the talk” never came, though we had plenty of stressful situations that could have triggered it. Our first big shitshow happened a couple of weeks later on Mason’s and my birthday weekend. Kelly was staying at my place. With her dad living across the hall from her, she didn’t want any of us subjected to an awkward, walk-of-shame-style encounter.

We had nowhere to be until Sunday, when the family planned to throw Mason and me a pool party. As we were leaving Good Wood Friday night, Kelly let it slip that she was nervous to see my grandmother again.

“She doesn’t like me,” Kelly said, and I could tell by her slumped shoulders that she was genuinely unhappy about it.

“She’s like that with the whole human race,” I responded, gently rubbing her shoulders.

This little talk proved fortuitous the following morning, when loud knocking blasted me out of bed. I untangled myself from Kelly and stretched. The doorbell rang repeatedly as I dragged my sleepy ass to the door to see who needed to be bitchslapped. Through the blinds, I saw my mom and grandmother standing on my front porch. They were cradling all manner of produce and baked items in their arms.

“Happy birthday to you! We bring goodies from the farmers market!” Granny sang through the screen door.

“Damn, woman,” I groaned. “Let me drink my coffee before you start in with that shit.”

“Is that any kind of language to greet your mother with, Malcolm?” Mom asked, her usual swearing-is-the-devil frown in place.

“Sorry, Mom,” I mumbled.

“Now open the door, Son. This stuff is heavy.” Without giving it a thought, I swung the door wide, grabbing a few of the bigger things from each of them.

“How does it feel to be thirty-four?” Mom asked.

“Tiring.” I replied, and as I set the boxes on the counter, I heard Granny make a disapproving noise with her tongue from behind me.

“M.J. isn’t here, is he?” She demanded.

“No…” I frowned. “He’s at his mom’s. Why?”

She gave a sniff, gesturing at Kelly’s purse which hung over a chair at the dining room table.

“Just making sure you weren’t entertaining one of your floozies when he was home. It’s best that the boy not be exposed to that sort of thing. He’s gonna grow up to be President of the United States, and I don’t want him to have to explain a sordid past to Fox News.”

“Gran, give it a rest.” I grumbled, hurrying with the coffee maker. She was getting pretty loud, and I knew there was no way Kelly was sleeping through her litany.

“Back in my day—” she started, but I interrupted her. I had no desire to get into a pissing contest this early in the morning.

“I know, I know. Back in your day Fred Flintstone would have been mortified. Luckily, time travel is frowned upon in this establishment.” I pressed the sacred on- button of my coffeemaker, knowing the elixir of the gods would soon be ready and that all would be right with the world. “My girlfriend happens to agree with you. She doesn’t stay over unless M.J. isn’t here.”

Gran shot me a suspicious look, not at all put off by my assurances.

“So you’re dating a woman who doesn’t want to be around your son?” Her face was turning red, and I knew I needed to speak up before she kicked down my bedroom door and dragged Kelly out by her beautiful long locks.

Fortunately, Mom came to my rescue with a roll of her eyes.

“Mother Hildebrandt, for heaven’s sake. Mac is dating Kelly again. You remember, Francis’s daughter, the schoolteacher? She’s probably the most responsible woman that Mac has ever talked to, much less dated. Quit trying to pick a fight; it’s too early and you’re giving me a headache.” I gaped at Mom and then realized that my loud-mouthed sister was probably the culprit for her knowing who was in my bedroom. It had to be Molly or Robin, who had been hanging out with Molly way too much for my taste.

It wasn’t often that Mom shut Granny down like that, and I was tempted to do a victory dance. I was about to thank her, when Kelly came out into the kitchen. She was fully dressed and looked adorably fresh-faced with her preppy ponytail bouncing on top of her head. She’d changed into new clothes, and the pink blouse and white shorts suited the image of her that my mom had just painted. She looked sweet, friendly, and cute as a button.

“Morning,” she smiled, and I crossed to her, my arm slipping around her shoulders. As my mother hurried forward to greet her, I snuck a peek at Granny, and her stunned face as she took in my protective stance was priceless. Mom did her best to smooth over the comments that Kelly had obviously overheard, gushing about how nice it was to see Kelly again. Granny was surprisingly quiet, though she seemed unable to resist the occasional dig at me during their visit. When they left, Kelly let out a giant, mortified sigh.

“Well, that went well,” I said, kissing her behind her ear.

“They think I’m a tramp,” she fretted, and she retreated into the bathroom to shower alone. Not willing to let the matriarch of my family ruin our budding relationship, I stripped off my clothes and went in after her. When I stepped into the warm water and pressed my body against hers, she didn’t resist my touch.

“Mom already loves you, Sugar. And Granny’ll come around. They’ve never seen us in the same place at the same time before. Now…I think she gets it.” I expected an argument, but I saw in Kelly’s eyes that she wanted to believe me. Hoping to change the subject, I smiled wryly. “Now where’s that birthday present you promised me?”

It was obvious when we got to Mason’s the following day, that my girl was a hit. My mother was all smiles when she spotted us and waved us over. Even though it was supposed to be a cook-out and pool party, Mom had decided it was appropriate to bring a slideshow of pictures from my youth. She dragged Kelly into the house to watch it, and Kelly went a little too willingly for my liking. Naturally, Molly tagged along like some hellish movie critic. For the rest of the afternoon, she provided color commentary about the soul patch I’d had in my senior pictures, my Justin Timberlake style bleached tips in my twenties, and the short lived love affair I’d had with bandanas. I had to put up with Short Shit calling me J.T. for the rest of the afternoon. Molly is why God created beer.

Kelly made a point to go over and greet my grandmother, who was camped out in her usual spot at the table under the covered patio. Kelly had already hijacked Eva from Joe, and she and Granny spent a good thirty minutes tag-team ogling the baby girl. I have no idea what they were talking about, but I watched carefully from afar, ready to rescue Kelly if at any point she seemed like she was in distress.

Later, when I took a break from swimming pool volleyball, I went to have some shade with Granny. She nodded at me as I dried off and dropped into the chair beside her. I noticed she was studying Kelly and Mac Junior closely. They were oblivious, far too consumed in their need to destroy Mason and Joe’s team. Junior managed to bump the ball over for a victory, and he and Kelly celebrated with high fives.

Granny reached over and slapped me with the flyswatter she brandished in her right hand.

“Ouch! What the h—” I exclaimed.

“Don’t screw this one up, Malcolm.” She commanded.

“I don’t intend to,” I replied. Granny raised her eyebrows, but she wasn’t the only one surprised at how passionate the declaration was.

Mason and Robin seemed overjoyed with my new relationship status. Kelly and I were a built in social life for them. As much as we all enjoyed doing things with Joe and Molly, the twins took up a lot of their time. Molly rarely left the kids with anyone, so my twin and his wife were ecstatic to finally have another couple go out with.

We did manage to get Joe and Molly to come along with us when we took Mason’s boat out on Lake Travis. It was a scorching day, but Molly refused to reveal her swimsuit, though Joe did everything he could to try to talk her into it.

“I’m nowhere near swimsuit ready, baby.” She tugged at the hem of her denim cut off shorts.

“I beg to differ, Baby Girl.” Joe’s deep voice carried over the motor as he snaked his arm around Molly. She suddenly looked sunburnt.

“I didn’t wear any sunscreen,” she countered, studying her red fingernails.

Joe reached into his bag and pulled out an aerosol can, holding it out toward her. “I come prepared.”

“Yeah, unless it’s with birth control,” I cracked, taking a dig at the mishap that resulted in their twins. Mason fell out of the driver’s seat laughing, and Robin grabbed the steering wheel as she choked on her beer.

“Ha! Ha!” Molly snarled, her blue eyes filled with disdain for us all. She snatched the sunscreen from Joe and hurled it at me. “You’re hilarious.”

“Hey, now,” Joe chimed in, though he was smirking with amusement.

“That was perfect,” Mason managed between chortles. “Mac for the win.”

Joe turned his green eyes on Kelly, who was staring at us all like we were insane. “It’s all fun and games until you knock up someone’s sister. The condom broke, and these assholes will still be talking about it on their deathbeds.”

Molly must have been pissed, because she spent the rest of the day verbally assaulting me. She joked that Kelly must be into “silver foxes,” implying that I was too old for her. That was rich considering that Joe and I were same age and that Molly was only about a year older than Kelly. I told her as much, but she didn’t let up. I deserved it for all the crap I’d given her about Joe, but I worried that she was making Kelly uncomfortable.

Finally, after Molly made some comment about Kelly having my dick in her purse, I picked her up and tossed her ass in the lake. Joe laughed harder than anyone, and when he tried to help her back into the boat, Molly released a string of swear words that nearly made me blush, and she splashed Joe, leaving him sputtering a mouthful of lake water.

Mason and I lost it all over again, but Kelly elbowed me and wearing a somber expression, nodded in Molly’s direction. Ready to offer the olive branch, I went over to hand Molly a beer to enjoy in the water, since she had no intention of coming back onto the boat.

Kelly must have decided I needed to be taken down a peg, because she waited for me to bend over the side and pushed me in. Joe’s laughter echoed off the water, and after snapping several pictures with his cell phone, Mason handed Kelly a celebratory beer, which she accepted with a showy curtsy. Left with no alternative but to embrace my fate, I helped my sister climb back onto the boat. Luckily, I hadn’t cracked the beer, so it was still perfectly good.

When we weren’t hanging with our friends or family, the two of us were out and about. I got her to do some golfing with me and taught her to play a little pool. We spent a lot of time outdoors; whether riding the backroads on my Harley with my club, or canoeing the Colorado, we both shared a love for being out in the elements.

One morning, we had a misunderstanding, and she nearly got away from me. Thankfully, I was able to contain the situation before it blew up. My housekeeper, Donna, was finishing up her bi-weekly clean, and she went out to her car to grab her credit card device for her phone. When she came back in, she was as white as a sheet.

“Mac…there’s a really pretty, really angry looking girl standing in your driveway,” Donna stammered. I took off out the door, and as I cleared the porch steps I saw Kelly climb inside her car. Red-faced, she looked close to tears. I rushed to her car and hopped into the passenger seat, removing the keys from the ignition before she could start it. Kelly covered her face, but I reached out and took her hands away.

“Kelly,” I spoke calmly, anticipating the conclusion she’d jumped to.

“Get out of my car.” She tried to pull her hands away from me, but I wouldn’t let her.

“No.” I forced myself to stay level.

“The one night I don’t stay over.” Her eyes slayed me; the betrayal within them was so raw.

“She’s my housekeeper, Sugar.” The doubt I saw on her face was instant, as if I’d splashed her with cold water. The speed with which her mood swung back in my favor was…disturbing. She swallowed hard, her eyes shifting to the front door, just as Donna opened it to carry out her vacuum. Kelly turned even redder, and she wiped at her eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. She suddenly looked incredibly tired. “I assumed—”

“I know exactly what you assumed. You need to hear me out.” I turned her chin, so she was forced to look at me. “Are you paying attention?”

She nodded, her eyes full of fear and uncertainty.

“I’m no saint. I’ve done some stupid shit in my time, and I will continue to do more as time goes on. But if I want out, you’ll be the first to know. You’re the only person I’m seeing, and I don’t want to see anyone else. I don’t want you to see anyone else either, but that’s your call.”

We agreed to be exclusive that morning, and we’d been on an even keel ever since. It still worried me how quick she’d been to dismiss me. She’d admitted later that day that she’d never dated anyone for more than a couple of months. I was stunned. Kelly was absolutely the kind of girl you took home to your mother, and I couldn’t believe no one had sunk their teeth into her before.

As July came to a close, I got a little twitchy. When we were out on the river or on a remote trail, doubt would spring up, and I wondered if she was taking me out somewhere to dump me.

Just before Kelly was due back at school in August, I set up a trip to Sea World in San Antonio. MJ was freaking out about seeing the whales and begged to take his cousin Ben with him. That meant I’d be outnumbered, but I didn’t want to say no, especially considering that Robin and Mason had watched M.J. so many times for me. It was only fitting I take their only boy on a road trip and give them a little break.

After some very persuasive tactics on my part, I got Kelly to agree to come help me as long as we got separate rooms. Initially, I balked at the idea, until I found a hotel online with a two-bedroom suite. I agreed to her terms, without filling her in on the hotel arrangements. I figured I’d give her a nice little surprise. Well, maybe not a little one…

The trip itself went smoothly, and between the shows, the rides, and the extreme heat, the boys were both wiped out and sound asleep by eight. I piled the luggage in front of the door to the hall, set the deadbolt, and then retreated into Kelly’s room. She’d already dozed off, but I had fun creeping under the covers and sliding her panties aside. She moaned as my tongue made contact with her, but after a few seconds, she woke fully and gasped.

“Mac!” Her surprised cry was louder than I’d expected, and I quickly crawled up to put a hand over her mouth.

“Shhhh…” I hissed into her ear, releasing her mouth so I could brush my lips against hers. “We have to be quiet.”

“But the kids—” As scandalized as she sounded, her hands had already found their way inside my shirt. “What if they—”

“They’re dead to the world, Sugar.” I kissed her, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She moaned quietly, and her hands raked through my hair. “And they’re barricaded in. Now, where was I?”

“Down here.” She pulled her mouth away from mine and then shoved my head back down under the covers.

“This is really light. What did you pack?” Kelly snagged the backpack and hopped out of the truck.

“Bug spray and water.” I reached out to take the backpack from her as we headed toward the staircase at the bottom of Mt. Bonnell.

She shot me a look of mock hostility and moved away so I came up empty handed. “You promised me a picnic, and I’m starving!”

“Alright, settle down. I might have talked Molly into making us some wraps.” I confessed. “They may not feel like much, but they pack a punch.”

“Mmmmm…I can’t wait.” She replied, her tone unintentionally erotic and I grabbed her wrist, swinging her into my arms.

“I can’t wait for after. We could skip this, ya know.” I offered. “Go off and find a place to park.”

Her dark eyes shone with lust and anticipation, but she stepped away from me.

“Nice try…but this was your idea and now you owe me dinner with a view,” she replied, taking my hand as we ascended the stone stairs. She looked over, and she must have seen my disappointment. “I missed you this week.”

“I know,” I acknowledged, planting a kiss on her temple. “Summer vacation spoiled us.”

With school back in session and Good Wood’s apprenticeship program in full swing, our time together was sacred. Kelly had never hiked Mt. Bonnell, which was a rite of passage for Austinites. I wanted to be with her when she reached the summit, but I also had an ulterior motive. With a view like this one, I’d have some extra confidence when I broached a delicate subject. I wanted her to move in with Mac Junior and me, and I knew it wasn’t going to be a simple discussion.

“I’m glad we’re getting a little cardio if I’m eating something Molly made,” she quipped.

“This isn’t going to be much of a workout for you,” I replied. “Mt. Bonnell’s more of an overlook than a mountain.”

“I know. I read up on it.” She grinned. “But I only ran five miles this morning. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to qualify for the half marathon.”

“Bullshit.” I gave her a sideway glance. “You know better.”

“No. I don’t. I’m not sure I’m getting enough cardio,” she complained. “Damned work. Always getting in the way of my extracurricular activities.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You aren’t counting all the cardio you get when you stay over.”

“That’s because it’s immeasurable.” Her white smile and pink cheeks were fleeting, but rewarding.

“Bring a ruler next time,” I suggested with a devilish smirk. “I’ve got game.”

She giggled and then looked around to see if anyone had overheard us.

“So are y’all ready for Heartwood?” She asked, referring to Joe’s charity build- off event that was scheduled for the following weekend.

“About as ready as we’ll ever be,” I replied, launching into a tirade about all the last minute phone calls Francis and I had to make in the past few days. Joe had lined up everything early in the summer, but with his impending wedding, a lot of the last- minute scramble had fallen back on us. Luckily, Nick stepped up to deal with the interns, so I was spared that annoyance. When I said as much to Kelly, she shook her head.

“What?” I asked, and she pulled me off to the side trail to make room for the people coming up the stairs after us. She bit her lip and squared her shoulders, and I knew I wasn’t going to want to hear whatever she was about to say.

“You should be working with those apprentices, not Nick,” she said.

I huffed, tipping my head back and crossing my arms. “Did your father put you up to saying that?”

“No.” She drew out the word suspiciously. “Why? Does he agree?”

My shoulders slumped as I realized why she’d been visiting me so much at the shop over the past few weeks. She was assessing my teaching skills, while the interns were assessing her assets. Now she had all kinds of ammunition in her arsenal, and by admitting her dad was on her side, she’d given me just enough rope to hang myself. “He told me the same thing when Molly had the twins and Joe had to take all that time off.”

“Mac…I know you said Nick’s really good. And he is. I’ve seen what he can do. But you’re a master carpenter, just like Joe. Yes, Joe can carve, and he’s amazing. But your ideas…the way you look at something and transform it…make it into something new and functional…you need to be passing those skills along to these boys. Most of them will never carve like Joe. But if they can learn the techniques you use every day…that kind of product will make them a living.”

“I’m no teacher, Kelly.” It sounded a little condescending, but to her credit, she had more patience by far than I do and didn’t bite my head off.

“That’s not true.” Her gentle eyes were endearing, and I was willing to hear her out. She stepped closer and rested her palms on either side of my neck. “I watch you with M.J. all the time. He’s brilliant, but he’s smart because he’s nurtured. By you. You log the time, Mac. You challenge him.”

“Sugar—” I started, but she didn’t let me cut her off.

“I know you don’t want to teach.” She pulled away and headed back toward the stone steps. “But once you try it, you might find that you actually like it. It’s a chance to pass on all those lesson you’ve learned over the years. A chance at a little immortality.”

It was sweet how she thought I was good enough to call me an expert, but my motivation to teach my son how to build a matchbox car was a far cry from anything I was feeling for the punks at work.

“M.J. is my immortality,” I amended. She tilted her head, but she still wore a look of determination.

“You’re missing my point, hon. You’re not just teaching these kids a hobby. They could support their families with the skills you’re teaching them one day. If you teach them the right way to do things. They’ll become the type of crew you’d want to work with if you take the time to groom them into that kind of carpenter. Mentoring is a huge responsibility, and I think you’re more than capable of doing the job.” She shook her head emphatically. “Don’t push it off on Nick. He’s eager, but he’s not ready. Let him do the scheduling and the other things you hate. But you need to be logging hours with those boys. They look up to you, whether you want them to or not, and you have the expertise they need to be exposed to.”

I was quiet as we ascended to the top of the summit. I thought about what she’d said and realized it was exactly the kind of thing my dad would have told me. Molly had been the sponge who had absorbed all of his expertise. He’d been willing to teach Mason and me, but we’d been obsessed with ripping stuff apart and putting it back together again. We’d just naturally gone in another direction. While Mason made money as a general contractor, his side business painting cars kept him busy…too busy to strike out with Joe and me.

Though I hadn’t planned on or wanted to be a mentor, a couple of the kids we had in the shop had shown real promise. They’d come up with some great ideas for my last batch of salvage, and it wouldn’t kill me to walk them through their designs so they could have a taste of success. I knew from experience that sometimes you just need a couple of victories to get you on the right path.

We were cresting the hill when the viewing platform became visible. I could tell the moment that Kelly caught sight of Lake Austin, because she gasped and turned a complete circle.

“Look! You can see all the way downtown!” she squealed, and her smile was like cool lemonade on a blistering summer day. She pulled me out of my introspection and back to my goal for the evening.

“Race you,” I said and took off running for the unencumbered view of the river. Being the competitive little nymph she is, Kelly tore off ahead of me. Seconds later she went sprawling, scaring the hell out of the couple nearby who’d been quietly enjoying the view. Her cry chilled me to the bone.

“Kelly!” I leapt forward, grabbing at her shirt as her body rolled toward the edge. My heart nearly stopped as I almost didn’t get a grip on her. My fingers dug into her, stopping her roll just three feet from the edge of the rock face. “Jesus, Kelly.” My pulse pounded in my ears as I fought back the image of her lifeless body smashed on the rocks below. Pulling myself up beside her, I cradled her face in one hand, but my other hand wouldn’t cooperate. It seemed to have a mind of its own and it was refusing to let go of her shirt. I could tell by her twisted features she was seriously hurt. She reached down for her ankle, wincing.

“What just happened?” I asked her, baffled at her incessant ability to injure herself.

“I s…stepped in a h…hole.” Her breathing was labored and I looked up to see the couple from the nearby bench was running our way.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” The woman looked at Kelly then at me, as if trying to figure out if I was friend or foe.

“I’m fine,” Kelly said. She waved them off. “Sorry to have scared you. Mac, help me up.”

I frowned, but offered my hand regardless. “Are you sure you can stand?”

“Of course I ca—” Her sentence deteriorated into an agonized exclamation, and she nearly fell over as she tried to put weight on her foot. I righted her, and when I saw the tears that were welling in her eyes, I swept her up in my arms and started for the staircase.

“Wait!” She protested, her voice raspy from the pain. “We don’t have to go. I can hop on one leg.” I heard a sigh of longing from the girl behind us.

“You never carried me anywhere, Ted,” she said accusingly.

“I’ve got a bad back, and you aren’t that thin,” the man said dryly.

I fought back a chuckle. Kelly wiggled in my arms, and a pout appeared on her face. Her stubbornness was as adorable as it was infuriating. “You need a doctor, Sugar.”

“But,” her lip trembled, “you can’t carry me all the way back down.”

I eyed her dangerously. “Watch me.”

Her soulful eyes that seemed incapable of disguising the truth, implored me. “Mac…”

“I got this, Sugar.” I said, and as if I’d popped her balloon, she deflated against me. She sniffed, and I kissed her forehead, without taking my eyes off the path in front of me. “I got you.”

THOUGH HE TRIED hard to hide it, Mac’s anger was obvious by the way he was working his jaw. I’d insisted we go to Urgent Care instead of the ER, and he thought it was a huge mistake. He was so sweet, trying to demand that we go to the hospital, but Urgent Care was so much cheaper, and my ankle didn’t feel broken. I could tell he wasn’t happy with me, but I’m sure it saved me thousands of dollars in the long run.

A couple of hours and an X-ray later, I was being fitted for a brace. My walking wounded ensemble was completed by a set of crutches from a nearby medical supply store. Mac seemed out of sorts while the man was fitting me, pacing back and forth. I flushed, feeling terrible for tying up his entire Friday night.

“Hey,” I said, working to sound more confident than I felt. “You don’t have to stay. I can take a cab.”

“Like hell.” Mac’s blue eyes flashed, and he seemed genuinely offended. “You’re not going to be able to go home on crutches, Kelly. You’re coming to stay with me.”

“Mac.” I heaved a heavy sigh. “You know that won’t work. The doctor said I need these stupid things for two whole weeks. Junior will be at your place a good portion of that time.”

“I’m worried about you trying to navigate those stairs on crutches.” He ran a hand over his dark beard. “No offense, Sugar, but you’re kind of a klutz.”

I huffed out a surprised laugh, even though I wanted to cry. First I’d been told I couldn’t train for my race for a month, and now Mac was being over-protective. “I can’t intrude on your family life like that.”

“Kelly,” he grumbled. “You’re part of my life. You’re not intruding on it.”

It was probably the sweetest things anyone had ever said to me, and I really wanted to take him up on the offer. The thought of being with Mac in his house (and in his bed) for two solid weeks was tempting, but with M.J. around, it was way too intimate for where we were in our budding relationship. Even so, I felt a bit panicky about carrying anything more than my purse up the stairs on crutches. I quickly turned the situation around in my head and tried to weigh all my options.

“Okay,” I conceded. “But I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Mac reacted as if I’d kicked him in the crotch.

“Are you out of your mind?” he scoffed, and my expression must have revealed my displeasure, because he hurried to add an addendum. “I’ll sleep on the couch when M.J.’s home. You’re our guest, and you will most definitely not be crashing on my couch.”

We stopped by my place so that I could pack a bag. After I insisted on hopping up the stairs with him as support, I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with the steps regularly. Mac insisted I rest on the bed and set about trying to pack for me. As amusing as he was trying to pick out my work clothes, I finally convinced him to stop goofing around and listen to me. I chose all skirts and sweats, knowing slacks and jeans would be too hard to manage with my swollen ankle, not to mention the awkward brace.

Mac took my suitcase down to his truck, and he’d just returned for me when my father stuck his head in the half-open door.

“Hey, you two,” he grinned, trying to put on a cheerful face. He still seemed to have lingering doubts about Mac and me, but he’d been very supportive during our weekly dinners; I’d chosen to ignore his unspoken reluctance. When Dad’s dark eyes dropped to my bulky brace, his face contorted with horror.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said. He moved into the living room from the small hallway that separated our apartments.

“What did you do? Are you all right?” Dad looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be angry or upset. His gaze flicked between Mac and me with an increasing level of agitation.

“Relax, Dad,” I said. “I took a spill on our hike today. The doctor says I’m going to be fine. I’ll just be on crutches for a couple of weeks.” Mac brought me a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down on the couch next to me.

“Oh, hon.” Dad sat on the arm of the couch beside me. “Well, don’t worry about a thing. I can help you with shopping, and it won’t be any trouble at all to help you up and down the stairs until you heal.” The earnest look on his face was touching, if a bit inconveniently timed. Mac put his arm around me and settled back on the couch.

“That’s okay, Francis. She’s going to stay at my place until she’s better. No stairs.” The look on my father’s face was only there for a split second, but it reminded me of the few times I had seen him truly angry. Then it was gone, and a look of placid contemplation replaced it.

“It’s no trouble. I can make sure she gets around. And you have a kid of your own to take care of.” Mac stiffened a bit, and I cringed inwardly, wondering how he would respond. Dad’s tone hinted that there was some sort of story surrounding Mac’s son, but I knew from personal experience that Mac didn’t respond well to anyone challenging his parenting skills.

“I’m used to looking after my kid. I’ve been doing it all his life,” Mac said lightly. “Kelly will be no problem at all.”

Dad bristled, and my eyes widened at Mac’s cutting remark. Before Dad could respond, his phone rang. The sound made me jump, and I clipped my ankle on the leg of the coffee table. “Oh, Sugar,” Mac murmured, and he jumped up to get me some pain killers. Dad looked after him thoughtfully.

“It’s up to you, Kelly. I really wouldn’t mind.” I considered his offer for at least three seconds before shaking my head. It would have been the smart thing, the grown- up thing to do. It would have removed a lot of complication from the next two weeks. I imagined myself curled up beside Mac night after night, and all maturity and propriety went out of the window.

“Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate the offer. But we have it all worked out.”

He nodded.

“Do you think you’ll still come to the build off?” he asked mildly. “Beverly was really looking forward to finally meeting you.”

I was already aware that he had a new lady in his life, and from the way he talked about her, they’d already known each other for a long time. I knew she ran the shelter where he volunteered, but that was about it.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” I forced a smile, partially due to the pain in my ankle and also because the subject of my father with someone besides my mother was uncharted territory. When Mac returned with my pills, Dad stood and gently excused himself.

Sunday night, Mac’s ex dropped M.J. off so unceremoniously that I didn’t even see or hear her. In fact, I was in Mac’s bedroom grading papers when M.J. appeared in the doorway.

“Hi,” he said, surveying me curiously. I was propped up on pillows in his father’s bed, and I shoved my own discomfort at the situation aside, so he wouldn’t feel weirded out.

“Hey, M.J. Thanks for letting me crash at your house! It’s really hard for me to get up all those stairs in my building with my crutches.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, taking a couple of steps into the room. “Do you think we could play a game tonight?”

“Not tonight, kid. Shower and bed.” Mac interjected, walking past the room toward the washer and dryer. M.J. looked as if his father had just stomped on a baby bunny.

“How about tomorrow?” I offered.

“Alright,” Junior mumbled. “Can you read me a story before bed?”

“How about we read one together?” I replied. I knew he was especially good with words, and though I had no problem reading to him, I wanted to push him a little.

“Okay!” he said, smiling like I’d just suggested a midnight flight to Disneyland.

Twenty minutes later, I hobbled down the hall and into his room. He was already under the blankets, and he had Peter Pan resting across his chest.

“Alright,” I said, sitting down beside him on the bed and pulling my legs up so we were huddled side by side. “You read a page, and I’ll read a page. Sound good?

He nodded with a little apprehension. “You go first.”

By the time we neared the end of the second chapter, his eyelids looked a bit heavy. I glanced up and saw Mac hovering in the doorway. His forehead was wrinkled in a pensive expression, and I couldn’t tell if he was unhappy or angry with me.

“That’s all for tonight, buddy,” I announced, tucking the bookmark into place.

“Can we read more tomorrow?” He yawned and his tiny Mac-like face was drawn with exhaustion.

“I think that can be arranged.” I ruffled his hair and moved to stand. Mac was beside me in an instant, offering support.

“Can you tuck me in?” M.J.’s sleepy murmur was directed at his father.

Mac folded Junior’s blanket around him like a burrito. “There. Snug as a bug in a rug in a hairy toaster.”

I cocked an eyebrow and giggled. “What?”

Mac shrugged. “Something my dad used to say.”

“Night, Kelly. Night, Dad,” Junior said and closed his heavy eyelids.

“Night, son. Love you.” Mac bent over and kissed Junior’s cheek, and smoothed his curls out of his face. They were such a sweet pair that I had a lump in my throat as I watched them together.

Mac knelt down, offering me a piggyback ride. Rather than argue with him in front of M.J., I hopped on and let him carry me down the hall and back into his bedroom. He deposited me onto his bed, and after zipping across the room to lock the door, he hopped onto the bed next to me covering my mouth with his. His lips were scorching; but he’d already branded my heart so the searing sensation seemed redundant.

“Mac,” I scolded, pushing against his chest. The move felt completely unnatural and fruitless considering he was twice my size.

“Hmmm?” He trailed kisses down my neck toward the spot where my neckline ended at my cleavage.

“One of us is heading for the couch. Is it going to be you or me?” I gripped handfuls of his hair and pulled his face up so he could see my serious expression. I saw hunger there that I’d have loved to feed.

“I said I’d sleep on the couch. I’m just not very sleepy yet.” He had the same puppy-dog look that M.J. had used on me earlier when he asked for a story.

“Out!” I pointed toward the door, and Mac exhaled with desperate, yet knowing eyes.

After three days of being at Mac’s, I packed up my stuff and went home. I knew he’d object, so I did it when he was still at work with the interns. He’d managed to persuade me to break my own rules, and I knew without a doubt that it would happen again.

He’d cornered me in the kitchen after M.J. was asleep. I’d hopped in there to get a glass of water. Ice cubes had just sounded against the bottom of my glass, when I felt Mac press the length of his hard body against my back. I tried to whirl to face him.

“Uh-uh.” He sounded feral as he pinned me to the refrigerator. It was such a commanding and masculine move, that I arched back into him on instinct. His hand slid up my side and came to rest possessively on my breast.

“Ever play with ice?” he whispered against my ear, as he reached into my glass. The frigid cube moved across the thin material over my nipple, making me gasp. He kissed the back of my neck and his hands slipped up under my shirt, and it wasn’t long before he was carrying me into his bedroom. His lips claimed mine, smothering my moans with his masterful mouth. His taste was irresistible and, even though I knew it was a terrible idea, there was no way I could resist him.

When I found him still in bed with me the following morning, I knew it was time to head home. We’d broken the seal, and I wasn’t sure I could control myself if I stayed. Even thought I’d said I was worried about confusing M.J., I was the one who was confused. I wasn’t used to the intimacy, and it scared the hell out of me.

I’d caught Mac watching Junior and me several times during my brief stay, and his gloomy expression on every one of those occasions gave me a complex. He didn’t seem comfortable with me mixing with his son, and the whole situation had me off balance. It just added to the list of reasons pushing me to take the first opportunity I could to get back to my place. I stripped his bed and loaded the sheets into the washer before I left and left M.J. a note saying we’d read together again sometime soon. I wasn’t surprised when my phone rang shortly after I got home.

“Hey, Mac.”

“Hey,” Mac said. “I just got home. I couldn’t help but notice that you aren’t here. What’s going on?” His tone was light, but I could hear the slight catch in his words.

“It was time. After last night…besides, I need to learn to get back into my routine. I have a ton of laundry to do, and I there is something rancid in the back of my fridge. I may have to shoot it before I clean it out.” I was proud of how normal my excuses sounded. Mac hesitated for a second, and when he replied, his good humor sounded a bit forced.

“Oh…well, okay, Sugar. Let me know if you need anything. And take it easy on that leg.”

“I will. Good night, Mac.”

I wasn’t happy, but I was a lot more relaxed. It was too frustrating to be in the same house with Mac and turn him away night after night. Back on my turf, I was able to take a much-needed deep breath. I told myself it was for my own good and plunged back into my life. As it turns out, going up and down the stairs on crutches wasn’t really all that difficult.

Mac showed up at my door after he finished work on Friday night. He seemed as glad to see me as always, and we were all over each other before he could even close the door. We spent the night entangled on my couch, playing movies we didn’t really watch and ordering take out we barely touched. It was imperfectly perfect, and I wouldn’t have changed a single detail.

He hadn’t planned to stay the night. He never did. Since I’d moved into Joe’s old place, we saved all overnight stays for his place. Other than his biting exchange with my dad when I hurt my ankle, Mac and I always tried to be respectful of Francis’s feelings.

When Mac woke me with kisses the following morning, his amused chuckles had me arching an eyebrow.

“How the hell are you so chipper without coffee?” I demanded, slightly horrified to find him still at my place.

“I grabbed the morning paper,” he replied, crushing me against my mattress with his delicious weight. “Let’s just say you aren’t the only one who had an overnight guest.”

Turns out my father had no qualms about having his girlfriend stay over. Rather than let it annoy me, I took it as carte blanche to do as I pleased.

Days later, I had my two-week check-up, and the doctor told me I could ditch the crutches in favor of a walking boot. I nearly hugged him. I’d been trying to do a little Pilates, but it just wasn’t enough for me. I needed my runner’s high. The walking boot took me one step closer to running again, and I missed it like crazy.

Molly’s bachelorette party was that very night, and I’d been afraid I’d miss it. Weaving though the drunks of Sixth Street on crutches had held no appeal. Now that I was more mobile I could join in the fun. After my appointment, I drove straight home and hurried to get ready. Any party involving Molly and her friends was bound to make for good people watching, and I was stir crazy from my recent incapacitation.

I wasn’t disappointed. Molly’s friend, Dan, had rented a giant party bus complete with a stripper pole that Robin was swinging around when I came on board. I got to meet Mac’s cousins, two very friendly ladies who were obviously there to have a good time. They were leading the group on downing shots before we even got to the first bar.

Molly’s bar-top dancing nearly incited a riot at Coyote Ugly, the first stop on our night of debauchery. We got away without a scratch but ended up with some random guy tagging along with us on the bus. Robin and Tamryn taunted Molly into doing a body shot with him, which Robin snapped a shot of with her camera phone.

“Wait till Joe sees this!” Robin crowed, and I immediately tried to take her phone away.

“Robin, don’t!” I exclaimed, but she pulled her phone back just before I could snag it. “That’s a shitty thing to do to somebody.”

She rolled her eyes, and no matter how I pleaded with her, she wouldn’t listen to reason. Furious at her behavior, I decided it was time to go sit on the other side of the bus. I was still a little raw about the whole social media topic, and I didn’t want to say anything to permanently sour things with Robin. I ended up hanging out with Dan and Jay, who weren’t speaking to one another, as I had learned at the baby shower was their usual.

A couple of bars later, Robin took the seat beside me. She seemed a lot more sober somehow, and she ordered a large coffee.

“I’m sorry, Kelly. I’m having a rough night.” Her eyes were brimming with tears. “The way I acted before is embarrassing. I just wanted you to know that I deleted the pictures.”

“I’m sorry, too. I overreacted.” I replied.

“What are y’all whispering about?” Molly asked.

I explained to Robin and Molly what had happened with Paula and Instagram, and they both had a few curse words to say about the secretary. Feeling a pretty good buzz, I was starting to finally relax when some rough-looking woman with a botched bottled job approached our table.

“Have you met Mac’s ex, Patty?” Robin asked, clearly overcome with excitement.

“No. And I’m pretty sure I don’t want to,” I replied. Mac had said virtually nothing about his ex-wife, but M.J. had mentioned how he wished his mommy had the time to read to him like I did. Between that comment and the stuff she’d said to Jane about her teaching, I wanted nothing to do with Patty.

“That’s her.” Robin nodded to the peroxided woman. “Check out what you have to live up to.”

The fake boobs were in character for Mac, but otherwise I had a hard time imagining his being attracted to the woman I saw before me. There was a hint of past beauty, but it had been chipped away by the harsh hands of time and other rough elements. Patty was incredibly loud as she hugged Molly up against her silicon-filled chest. Molly’s eyes bulged, and they shot to me.

“Robin! Lookin’ good!” Mac’s ex boomed as she turned her bloodshot eyes in our direction.

“Yeah, whatever,” Robin deadpanned, accepting a Diet Coke from the waitress.

“Well, you don’t have to be rude,” the disproportional barfly exclaimed. I noticed people were looking at us because of her echoing voice.

“Patty, have you met Mac’s new girlfriend, Kelly?” Robin asked, clearly eager to start a fight. I wanted to melt into the floor. “Kelly, say hello to what you have to live up to!”

Junior’s mom’s eyes narrowed on me like a platinum-haired piranha. “How ya doin’, sweetie? Enjoying my sloppy seconds?”

“Oh no, she didn’t!” Dan gasped.

Turning away as if she hadn’t just verbally assaulted me, Patty introduced Molly to a bedraggled older man, who she stated was her boyfriend. With an uncomfortable nod, the man pointedly moved away.

The thought of this wretched woman in bed with Mac had me shaking. My head throbbed as I thought about her neglecting M.J.’s baths and picking fights with Mac and his teachers like she was on some daytime talk show. I was on my feet and moving over toward her before I even realized it. As I approached, Patty made lewd suggestions about Joe, and Molly looked upset.

“What the fuck did she just say?” Joe’s sister looked like she was about to jump across the table and claw Patty’s eyes out. I stepped between them and put myself directly in Patty’s face. Her breath smelled of rancid cigarettes and cheap booze.

“To answer your question, Mac and I are doing just fine. It may take years, but I’m sure I can undo the damage he experienced by being with you. Obviously your poor self-image makes you lash out at everyone around you while you pursue your self-destructive lifestyle. When you’re around your own friends, if you have any, feel free to be as crass and rude as you like. But when you’re around my friends, you’ll watch what you say.”

Patty’s bleary, bloodshot eyes slowly came to rest on me.

“Bitch? Are you trying to talk shit to me? Why I have half a mind to—”

“I seriously doubt you even have half a mind,” I snapped, barely holding onto the fury building inside me. Jay and Dan both tittered in unison. “Now I suggest you abandon this attempt at a battle of wits since you’re obviously unarmed. Your best option is to skulk out of here and hurry back to your rotting double-wide down by the toxic waste dump.”

I saw fire in her for just an instant, but it was fleeting. Seconds later, she began bawling like a child. Luckily, her boyfriend came over and collected her, shooting us a look of apology as dragged her away.

Molly stood there staring at me while the two gay men cackled like the witches in Macbeth.

“Wonder-bitch powers activate!” Jay crowed.

“Form of...an ugly truth,” Dan said jovially.

“Ugly is right,” Jay replied. The two of them grinned at each other as Stacy enveloped me in a huge hug.

“That was amazing,” Stacy gushed. “That woman made my life hell for a few weeks. She’s pure evil.”

Glancing at Molly, I felt a swell of regret. This was her party, and here I was causing a huge scene.

“Molly, I’m sorry…” She interrupted me, pulling me into a hug.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Kelly,” Molly slurred, her pretty blue eyes misty. “She’s a horrible human being, and the sooner Mac takes M.J. away from her sorry ass, the better.”

“Preach!” Dan agreed, leading us out of the bar and onto the party bus once more. I wanted to question Molly’s extreme statement, but we were in such a scramble to get seated, I didn’t have the chance.

We filed into the next bar, which was far more intimate and quiet. We’d just settled in when another horrible blonde approached our table. Unlike Patty, this woman oozed money and grooming, but she had the same vicious look in her eyes, only hers were trained exclusively on Molly.

“Who the hell is that?” I asked Robin, and for the first time since I’d known her, she looked off-kilter.

“Bethany,” she whispered, as if she were seeing a ghost.

I watched in horror as this Bethany person lit into Molly, saying she’d trapped Joe by getting pregnant with the twins. The crushed expression on Molly’s face infuriated me, and I opened my mouth to repeat my previous performance when Joe’s sister, Tamryn, jumped in and verbally annihilated the woman.

Bethany stumbled away, and Molly’s friend Jay chased after her, looking like he was going to push her into traffic.

Molly fled the table in the direction of the restrooms, and Tamryn went after her.

“Who’s Bethany?” I demanded, slamming my pint down on the table a little too hard.

“She was Joe’s first wife’s maid of honor,” Robin replied with a frown, getting up from the table and following Molly’s old high school friend Lisa outside of the bar.

“Joe was married before?” I blinked around at my remaining table-mates.

“Yep,” Dan sighed heavily. “Molly and Joe both were.”

“Really?” I was stunned. My stomach sank when I realized that Mac had chosen not to mention any of this to me.

“Joe’s a widower,” Dan explained, a pained expression crossing his suntanned features. He lifted his wineglass to his lips as if to wash away the wretched information he’d just relayed. “Molly’s ex-husband is a complete lunatic. He’s in prison for stalking and terrorizing her.”

“Oh…my God.” I pushed my drink away, feeling nauseated. I tucked my hair behind my ears and rubbed my temples on impulse. This information seemed like the kind of thing that would come up in conversation, so I had to assume Mac had chosen not to tell me. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Worse, when I really thought about it, I didn’t know much of anything about him, other than that he loved The Cowboys and could inexplicably dance like he belonged on Magic Mike. We hadn’t even talked about his marriage or its demise, and I wondered if that was by design. I now knew more about Molly’s failed marriage than I did about Mac’s, and I was sleeping with him.

The more I turned things over in my head, the more I decided I wasn’t satisfied with just being a playdate anymore. I loved what Mac and I had, but it just wasn’t enough for me. Sometime in the past few weeks something had shifted with the two of us…or maybe just with me.

MY PLAN TO ask Kelly to move in with me failed when she got hurt. My back-up plan (letting her come to the conclusion she needed to be with us on her own) dissolved while I was helping two of my interns make an entertainment center out of an old chest of drawers. By the time I got home, she’d scooped up all her gear and was gone. I mean all of her gear; the girl didn’t leave so much as a hair tie or a tube of Chapstick behind. She’d even washed the sheets. It was as if she’d used an X-Acto knife to excise all evidence that she’d ever even been in my place.

I got a little panicky when I saw the lengths that she’d gone to, and I called her to check that nothing was wrong. While I waited for her to answer, I prepared myself once more to get the dreaded “talk”. When she picked up, she sounded like her normal, angelic self, and it was like the weight of the world had fallen off of my shoulders. Still, no amount of sweet-talking on my part would convince her to change her mind and come back over. She didn’t want M.J. getting the wrong idea, though any idea M.J. got would be the right idea as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t sure how to say this to Kelly, or even if I should. She clearly wasn’t where I was with things, but the fact that she worried so much about my boy just made her that much more attractive to me.

We were good, but I wanted to take things up a notch to great. I considered having a “talk” of my own with her, but I needed time to think. It was during my “thinking time” that Kelly ran into Patricia at Molly’s bachelorette party, and I realized just how complicated that “talk” of ours was going to be.

Robin texted me right after the incident and gave me a blow-by blow of what was said. I was dialing Kelly’s number when Robin came back with a second text saying that Kelly came off like a Mamma Bear, and handled Patty “like a boss.” Joe, Mason, and I were already en route to intercept the party bus, since Joe was rampaging all over Dirty Sixth thanks to fucking Facebook. When we caught up with them and climbed on the bus, Kelly grabbed hold of me the second she saw me and refused to let go. Life was good. At least it was with Kelly.

I was furious when I found out how Patricia had acted. Then there was the fact that she had dumped M.J. off with my mom when she was supposed to have him. Again. M.J. was always happy to spend time with grandma, but that wasn’t the point. I wasn’t letting the way Patty talked to Kelly blow over. As far as I was concerned, Kelly wasn’t going anywhere, and Patty needed to get used to that idea.

Kelly had a few surprises up her sleeve the next night she stayed over. We were cuddling on my couch munching on popcorn, when she dropped a bomb of a question.

“Mac?” Her voice was soft and unusually quiet.

“Yeah, Sugar?” I glanced at her and then back to the TV.

She paused. “Why did you and Patty split up?”

“Religious reasons,” I replied, continuing to flip through the channels on the television. “I was raised Methodist, and she’s the devil.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lip twitch, but she grabbed me by the jaw and turned my face in her direction. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” I replied with a rakish smile. “Didn’t you notice the horns and cloven feet when you met her?”

Kelly sighed, and pursed her lips. She was on her feet before I knew what hit me. “I think I’m gonna go…”

“No!” My eyes flew wide, and I tossed the popcorn and remote aside and pulled her onto my lap. “I’m just playin’. Don’t go.”

“I need you to talk to me, Mac.” She batted those long eyelashes at me, and I was done for. I took a deep breath and shifted her onto the couch next to me. Turning to face her, I bit the inside of my lip.

“I caught her cheating,” I admitted, and a clear image of that moment flashed before my eyes. I shook my head, as if to hit a reset button in my brain. “But we were in trouble long before that. Shit, we were in trouble before we eloped. I’d have walked away long before I did, but she was pregnant with M.J., and there was no way I was leaving him.”

I gave her the broad strokes. Patty’s infidelity. Suddenly being faced with raising a boy on my own. Patty’s attempts to get back together. The complete impossibility of it. Robin helping with the baby and how Patty and I had eventually worked out a divorce agreement. Soon, I realized I had told Kelly more about the hot mess that had been Patty and I than I had ever told anyone. I even told her about how I caught Patty drinking when she was pregnant with M.J. and how she’d threatened to get rid of him more than once. How every day when I left for work, I worried I’d get home and find out that she’d aborted him.

I managed to zip my trap before revealing the more embarrassing incidents of the recent past. Those left me too angry, and I was worried Kelly would run for the hills if she really got a good look at the baggage I came with.

Kelly was incredibly patient throughout the conversation. She stroked my back, held my hand, encouraged me to feel safe…and to say it all. What could have easily been the most awkward experience of my life actually felt cathartic. She didn’t say much in response, but she somehow made me feel okay with talking about it all.

Patty had M.J. the whole week before Molly’s wedding, but had agreed to let me have him longer for the festivities, even though technically it was her weekend. When I got to her house to pick him up for the rehearsal, he wasn’t ready. Patty was on the couch with a cigarette, and the cold way she surveyed me when I walked in triggered a silent alarm in the back of my brain.

“What the hell, Patty?” I asked, my eyes raking Junior’s dirty face and casual clothes. “I told you I’d be here at 5:15.”

“It’s my weekend.” She exhaled smoke through her nose, flicking her ashes into an overflowing ashtray.

“You said I could have him. For the wedding stuff, remember?” I could actually feel my blood pressure climbing. “And you said you’d smoke outside when he was here.”

“What I do in my house is my business,” she snapped, lighting another cigarette off of the first as if to make her point clear. “And as far as you taking M.J. tonight, I changed my mind. Junior and I are going to watch The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown and make Halloween cookies.”

“M.J., I need you in the shower. You have twenty minutes.”

“But Dad, mom said we’re making cookies,” he whined. Patty’s tiny smirk made me understand how people end up on death row.

“Looks like I’m calling my lawyer,” she muttered.

“Go right ahead. And I’ll cut back to only paying what’s court ordered from now until you have your day in court,” I shot back, shooing Junior toward the bathroom. “No more plastic surgery for you.”

“Do it,” she dared me. “You think I’m the one who’ll be hurt if you cut me off?”

“Mom? Dad?” M.J. was bouncing in my peripheral vision, but I was seeing red.

I folded my arms, doing my best to keep my cool. When I spoke, my tone was dangerously quiet. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact, Mac. Kids are expensive: T-ball, PeeWee football…hell, he was asked to three birthday parties in the last month alone.” For the first time in a while, Patty looked dead sober while picking a fight with me. “You’re only hurting M.J. if you try to get back at me through child support.”

“You are the one hurting M.J. You can’t just play mom when you’re pissed at me.” I thrust a finger at her. “Why would you do this? You know how important this wedding is.”

“Maybe your family should have thought about that before they treated me like shit.” She sipped her drink, and I wondered what was in it.

“He’s in Molly’s wedding, Patty.” I tried to remain calm, though I was tempted to choke her. “Junior. I’m not telling you again. Go jump in the shower.”

MJ stood there, his eyes flicking back and forth between us. It took almost all of my self-control, but I gave him a grin. He visibly relaxed and shot off toward the bathroom. From behind me, I heard Patty suck in a breath.

“Oh, I see. You start shacking up with that little bitch, and suddenly I don’t have a say in what MJ does? Listen up, asshole, I gave birth to that boy, and I will say what he does and doesn’t do. How about I call my lawyer and have him seek an injunction to keep MJ away from your house when that slut is there?”

She was baiting me, hoping to turn this into a blow up so she could justify her bad behavior. It was one of her favorite ploys to get her way. I had fallen for it often enough, so it was no surprise that she thought she could keep using it. I realized that from her point of view, this was all about Kelly. But I knew it wasn’t about me or even Kelly. It was all about the boy. A strange sense of calm settled over me. Slowly, I turned toward her, and she blanched when she saw my face.

“Listen up, Patricia. I don’t care if you get your feelings hurt for people judging you on how you choose to live your life. If you don’t like it, then make better choices. But I guaran-damn-tee you that if my boy ever lacks for so much as a toothbrush I will take you back to court and make sure the only time you get to see him is with a court appointed shrink present.”

The fire went out of her eyes, and she shrank back into the couch, stubbing out her cigarette quickly. Her lower lip began to tremble, and I knew she was retreating into her second favorite ploy. Trying to appeal to my sympathy. Unfortunately for her, mine was all reserved for our son.

“Mac,” she began in a shaky voice. I slashed my hand through the air in front of us.

“Save it, Patty. I’ve heard it all before, and I don’t care. The only thing that matters is that you behave like a mother when he’s around. I couldn’t give a good God- damn what you do when neither of us is present. Now, do I need to call my lawyer, or are you going to get your head out of your ass?”

I left ten minutes later with a fairly presentable M.J., who babbled excitedly about what Aunt Molly had told him his role in the ceremony would be. I felt a little guilty, not for ripping Patty a new ass, but for the manipulative way I fixed the problem of the cookies. Patty knew that M.J. would freak out about not getting “mommy time” with her; that’s why she dangled the carrot. God knows she normally didn’t get off the damn couch unless she was heading out to happy hour or making my life miserable.

When M.J. pouted about their thwarted plans, I told him that he and I would make cookies when we got home from the rehearsal dinner and that he could even stay up past his bedtime to do it. When I hinted that we’d ask Kelly to help, all of his resistance disappeared. That woman was like magic fairy dust. Sprinkle a little of her around, and the sky was just a little bluer.

Molly and Joe had the rehearsal dinner at Tamryn’s and Robbie’s, since they lived so close to the wedding venue. The entire evening, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Kelly, who busied herself with M.J. as if she were solely responsible for him. Their interactions provided an alarming contrast to the scene at Patty’s.

When she arrived at Pecan Grove, Kelly’s astounding beauty made it hard to keep my hands to myself. The minister walked us through the rehearsal ceremony, and when we sat down to eat at Tamryn’s, Kelly deftly placed M.J. between us. The dress she had on made me hungry in a completely different way. It was a slinky number with a tiny strap securing it behind her neck, leaving her beautiful shoulders bare. I glanced down at M.J. nestled close beside her in his red button-up shirt, and I was struck by how perfect they looked. Like the present I had always wanted on Christmas morning.

“Sugar, can I have some more sweet tea?’ M.J. asked Kelly, rousing me from my conversation with Mason about how we were going to trash Joe’s truck the following evening.

“Did you just call her ‘Sugar’?” I demanded, completely dumbfounded.

“Yeah. So? You call her that all the time.” M.J. asked with a shrug, and I gaped. Kelly and Mason both snickered.

“She’s Miss Kelly to you, Son,” I commanded.

Junior looked unimpressed and a little confused. “Why?”

“Because…” But I struggled forming an argument that didn’t make me look like a chauvinistic bastard marking his territory. “Because I said so!”

“Kelly is fine. You can drop the ‘Miss,’” Kelly said, placing her arm around Junior affectionately. He gave her a side hug and shot a sideways glance of triumph in my direction.

“Why you little—” I started, and Mason snorted, nearly spitting the beer he was in the process of drinking.

“I’ll take him to get some tea,” Kelly volunteered softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. I watched as they walked hand-in-hand to the buffet, giggling conspiratorially about me, no doubt. I felt very emotional, very much like the time when she’d tucked him in at my place. I was lucky to keep it together that night, because I hadn’t been prepared for the impact she’d had on Junior or me.

When M.J. had asked Kelly for a bedtime story, I’d been folding laundry. After several minutes, they were so quiet I decided to peek in on them. Every time I put Junior to bed, he acted like a total lunatic, and his booming voice was loud enough to wake the dead. I tiptoed down the hallway and saw them sitting on the bed quietly, each holding half the cover of some chapter book. M.J. looked up at Kelly in pure wonder.

“You just think lovely, wonderful thoughts,” Kelly read, her voice enthusiastic and infectious, “and they lift you up in the air.”

As Junior began to read the next page, Kelly locked eyes with me. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe and hurried away to hang up clothes in my closet. Even so, I was drawn back to Junior’s door a few minutes later, watching them cuddled up together. My son read excitedly to Kelly, whose smile could have melted even the coldest and most scarred of hearts.

She continued on the next page, and I was struck dumb by just how pretty a picture they made. I nearly bawled like a goddamn baby, and I escaped into the bathroom before they realized I’d been back in the doorway. I looked at myself in the mirror and couldn’t believe how old I felt. I chalked it up to work stress and told myself to get my shit together.

Now, seeing them together by Tamryn’s two-story fireplace, I knew that I’d been fooling myself. As Kelly chatted with my mother over buttermilk pie, I knew my tearful reaction had nothing to do with stress. It was all about Kelly Palmer.

I loved her.

I loved exploring the world with her on her crazy impromptu adventures, as well as exploring every inch of her. I loved making her laugh and holding her in my arms. More than anything, I loved seeing her interactions with my son. I wanted her in our lives every single day and in my bed every single night. I suspected she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment, and I didn’t want to fuck everything up and scare her away with needy pleas and pushy ultimatums. I was reminded of a quote Granny liked to toss around. “A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush.” Was that right? Maybe not. It sounded kinda dirty. Strike that from the record just in case.

“Dude. When are you going to lock that down?” Mason nodded in Kelly’s general direction, an expression of exasperation on his face.

I sipped my drink, eyeing him with reproach. “When she’s ready.”

“Do you pay any attention to the way she looks at you?” he asked incredulously, his eyes a little bloodshot from drinking. “She’s ready.”

“I come with a pop-top family, Mason.” I huffed. “That’s not exactly every girl’s happily ever after.”

“She’s great with M.J..” He snorted. “She already mothers that kid a thousand times better than Patty does.”

I didn’t want to argue with my brother, largely because I wanted him to be right. I simply sipped my beer to stall for time.

“At this rate she’ll die of old age before you decide that she’s ready. You might want to seal the deal before she hits menopause.” Mason popped open another beer. “That is, if you want more kids.”

It probably sounds idiotic, but that was the first time I’d thought about whether Kelly would want kids. Seeing her doting on M.J., my gut told me she was up for taking him on at the very least.

“I want to do this one the right way.” I glanced around to be sure no one else in my nosey-assed family could hear us. “I’m not looking to repeat my mistakes. Not with Junior in the mix.”

“Comparing Kelly to Patty is like comparing apples to prunes,” he chuckled as he swigged down a healthy pull of beer. “Like, old pickled prunes that someone dropped in manure and stomped on.”

“Kelly is nothing like Patty,” I agreed. “I’m going into this situation with my ducks in a row and my head on straight. I don’t want to fuck things up this time.”

“Mac, I’m saying this one last thing and then I’m going back to minding my own business.” Mason stood and loosened his belt from around his considerable gut. “Don’t wait around for ‘the right time,’ alright? There’s never gonna be a right time.”

After dinner, the kids begged to play tag outside, and Kelly and I volunteered to take them out. Her reaction to the view from Tamryn’s and Robbie’s back porch was nearly as dramatic as the view itself.

“Oh, this place is heaven!” she exclaimed, gazing out at the sun, which was setting dramatically behind the large mesa in the distance. “Look at that horizon!”

She stood enraptured by the sunset, and I was just as enthralled watching her. I kissed her bare shoulder, which was exposed by the soft material of her halter dress. It took all of my self-control to keep my hands away from the straps tied around her neck, knowing that one pull would strip her bare. I could have easily whisked her around the side of the house and given into the beast inside me who was raging to have its way with her.

“Dad!” M.J. called, yanking me back to the real world and the responsibilities contained within. He was waving the flashlight he insisted on bringing. “Look! It’s a light saver.”

He started making a pretty convincing imitation of the sounds from Star Wars and waving the flashlight around as if he were dueling someone. Kelly giggled as she applauded him.

“Light saber, dude.” I bit back a laugh.

“I love that kid.” Her words ended with a sigh. My heart swelled at the sentiment, and I slipped my arm around her and stroked her hair. She looked up at me from under her lashes, still smiling. “I love…Texas.”

I assessed her shy eyes and blushing cheeks, and I realized she’d meant to say something else entirely. She could lie to herself a hell of a lot better than she could lie to me.

I took her face in my hands and searched her eyes. By the light of the setting sun, I saw beyond her stammering words and her crumbling walls.

“Texas loves you, too.” I moved in for some serious kissing, when someone cleared his or her throat behind us.

Due to my responsibilities in the ceremony, I really didn’t have much of a chance to talk to Kelly until the reception the following night. While everyone else filled their plates at the buffet, I snuck down from the head table to steal her away to the bar.

“This was a perfect wedding.” Kelly could make breathing into an art form. The way her chest heaved when she inhaled mesmerized me. She was oblivious to my drooling, focused on the strings of white lights crossing the rustic reception hall and the mason jars sparkling atop every table. “It was so perfectly Molly and Joe.”

I leaned on the bar, studying her smile, her perfect ears, and the hollow of her long neck. Her deep purple gown went all the way to the floor, but the slit up the side gave me a great glimpse of her killer legs. She was devastatingly beautiful, and I was confused as to why she was here with me. “I’m happy that they’re happy. It’s long past time, and they both deserve it.”

“Guess who else is happy?” she asked, glancing around as if she had a secret.

“Who?” I asked, intrigued.

“Dan and Jay.” Her eyes twinkled with excitement. “I saw Jay leaving Dan’s hotel room when I went to pick Dan up this morning.”

“Seriously?” I was completely shocked and didn’t bother to hide it. “I thought they hated each other.”

“I’m pretty sure it was all sexual tension.” She nodded to where they two men seemed to be having a friendly drink at the other end of the bar.

“I’ll be damned,” I muttered, finishing off my drink.

Her smile melted into something watchful and intense. “Are you happy?”

“I am,” I said without pause, pinning her gaze with my own. “Are you?”

Her lips curled in a soft smile. “Yes. But…”

“But…” I exhaled, trying to keep things light when I really wanted to lose my shit. “That’s the last word I want to hear out of you.”

Her face went three shades redder. “I didn’t mean….”

I turned entirely in her direction and leaned in closer to her, breathing in her heady floral scent. “What do you mean, Sugar?”

She swallowed, and shrugged. “Your ex. It bothers me that she used me as an excuse to threaten you and M.J.”

I sat back, and pushed out a loud breath that seemed to be choking me. “I don’t want to talk about Patty. I’m happy, remember?”

“Okay.” She may have spoken the word, but her expression told me she was anything but. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.” I locked gazes with her once more.

“What about us?” She leaned closer to me.

“Do you like kids?” It fell out of my mouth and I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it.

Apparently neither did Kelly, because she blinked as if I’d sprayed her with a squirt gun. “If I don’t like kids, I’ve made a really bizarre career choice.”

I was committed now, so I pushed forward. “Right. I guess what I meant to say is, do you want kids?”

She tilted her head and eyed her glass of wine. Her gaze slid cautiously up to me, and she licked her lips, causing me to temporarily forget myself. “Are you asking if I want to have kids, or are you asking if I want M.J?”

It was my turn to react in surprise. Her eyes were unrelenting as I tried to rack my brain for an intelligible answer. “Both, I guess.”

She appeared thoughtful for a moment, and I watched the candlelight dancing in her dark eyes.

“I guess I always thought I’d have them someday. Molly and Joe’s twins have given me a major case of baby lust. If it’s meant to be it’ll happen.” She shrugged, and studied her glass stem carefully. “As far as M.J.’s concerned, he’s amazing. I’m jealous that Patty gets to be his mom, if I’m being honest. He’s a great kid, Mac.”

Her earnest eyes sought mine out, and I couldn’t stop myself from coming in for a kiss. She seemed surprised and confused by my response, but she responded with her usual enthusiasm.

Molly and Joe had their first dance, and Kelly watched with rapt attention as Joe broke out some moves even I didn’t know he had. I loved the way Kelly lit up when she saw people dancing, and I was nuzzling her neck when the DJ announced it was time for the bride to dance with her father.

I turned to look in Molly’s and Joe’s direction, livid that no one had told the jackass to skip this tradition. On top of it all, the guy was playing Butterfly Kisses, which was like a fucking twisted dagger for Short Shit, based on the look that flickered across her face.

Joe looked like he was ready to take the guy’s head off, and in his anger, he left my sister hanging. With a wink at Kelly, I pushed my chair back and headed in Molly’s direction. Molly studied her sparkling shoes and did her damnedest to look dignified. She’d always turned heads, but in her sparkling white gown that was fit for a princess, she was picture-perfect. I couldn’t help but imagine what my father would have thought about her on this day, and it brought tears to my eyes to consider it. Molly and I hadn’t been right since the day he died, and there was no time like the present for us to bury the hatchet.

Molly looked up as I offered her my hand, and her lips parted in surprise. When I pulled her into my arms to stand in for my dad, she fell apart. She’d not shed a tear all day long, and I suppose it was just overdue. Still, the sight of her crying floored me, and I scrambled to give her a handkerchief.

I used the three and a half minutes it took for the song to play out to tell Molly how proud dad would have been, how much he’d always liked Joe, and how I was a dick for saying all the horrible things I had to her on the day he died. I have to admit that it felt good to get it off my chest, and Molly seemed as ready as I was to make amends.

As we danced, I looked to my right and saw Kelly on the dance floor with her father. Her body language told me that she was incredibly uncomfortable, but Francis was smiling ear to ear. When that song ended, Mason gave me the thumbs up, and we assembled Nick and our gang of troublemakers to go trash Joe’s truck. I grabbed Kelly by the hand, but when she saw what we were up to, she told us we should be ashamed of ourselves and begged off, saying she was heading back inside.

Not long after that, the party died down. It was midnight by the time I pulled into the driveway of our house. I’d just carried M.J. into bed and forced him to wake up long enough to get him out of his suit and into pajamas, when I heard a light tapping on my front door. When I moved the curtain aside and saw Kelly was standing there, I felt like a kid in a candy store.

“Hey.” I threw the door open and moved to pull her inside.

“No,” she said. “I need to stay on the porch, or I’ll let you talk me into doing something I’ll regret. Can you come out here and talk to me?”

“Alright,” I replied with a bit of apprehension. Grabbing a blanket from my couch, we headed out onto the porch where we settled on the swing together.

“What’s up, Sugar?” I asked, reaching over and pulling the comb out of her hair. I watched with admiration as it fell softly around her shoulders in long cocoa colored waves. She shook her head and tried to smooth her hair down. “Why are we out here in the cold when we could be warming up my bed?”

“I had every intention of going home and then I find myself pulling into your driveway. I had to come. It was more than a want. I needed to be with you.” It was the perfect line, and I was tempted to let loose with a fitting double entendre. But something in her voice warned me to keep my smart-ass trap shut. She went quiet, staring out at the streetlight across the road.

“What’s on your mind, Kelly?” I pushed. She glanced at me, but her face was masked by the dim light, leaving me clueless as to her intent.

“I don’t trust easily, especially when things seem way too good to be true.” Sighing, she fiddled with her hands, not making eye contact. “I know trust is hard for you, too. After Patty…I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

Unsure where she was headed with this train of thought, I waited. She seemed to choose her words with care.

“What you did for Molly tonight—”

“Anyone would have done it,” I said.

“You did it, Mac,” she interjected. “Not Mason, not Joe. You. I’d like that kind of man in my life. You’re the one I want to be with. There’s no disputing it.”

“I want to be with you, too,” I said.

Kelly watched me for a moment before lowering her eyes.

“But then there’s Junior, and we have to be smart about that. We’ve got to get to the other side of that issue, and I don’t know how.” Her high-pitched voice sounded breathy, and I wished I could see her better. I knew if I could see her eyes, I could read the nuances of what she was feeling.

“Kids adapt.” I pulled her into the crook of my arm and ran my hand along her silky long hair. “He’s smart. We just need to sit him down and explain.”

“Explain what? That Dad and Miss Palmer have slumber parties? That the squeaking mattress is just us jumping on the bed?” She sounded like she was trying to joke, but there was an undertone of desperation in our voice.

“That we love each other,” I said simply. She blinked up at me with wide eyes, but she didn’t contradict me. I took her hand and pulled it to my lips. “And that when two people love each other, they want to be together all the time.”

She nodded slowly, looking a bit dazed in the faint light. When I stood and ushered her into the house, she didn’t object.

WITH JOE ON his honeymoon in Cabo, Mac was stuck working twelve-hour days. Without even discussing it, we’d fallen into a routine. I’d bring Mac Junior home from school with me, and we’d cook dinner in my apartment over the store. Then we’d plate it up and take it down to the break room so Mac—and whoever was still around—could eat it with us. Junior loved to cook, and though I was nowhere near the chef his Aunt Molly was, he loved to give his dad a report of every step it took to prepare the evening’s fine dining experience.

“Guess what, Dad!” he exclaimed, as we came through the door with our meager offering on the sixth day. “I helped Kelly make a salad!”

“Salad!” Mac groaned, winking at me when Junior wasn’t looking.

“It’s a great salad,” I defended with a smile, and Mac smirked as he abandoned his project and wiped his hands on a towel. “You’re gonna love it!”

“Ain’t no such thing as a ‘great salad.’” Heading across the shop toward us, Mac greeted M.J. with a pat on the back.

“It has bacon in it,” Junior announced, beaming up at his dad. “You’re gonna want seconds.”

“Well, in that case…” Mac reached out for the nape of my neck and brought my mouth to his, kissing me quickly with no regard to M.J., my father, or the two interns who were watching us with interest. “Kelly’s a keeper. Guys, you did good today. Clean up your tools and put them away. Time for some grub.”

“It smells delicious,” one of the interns, a particularly unfortunate-looking blue-haired kid, chimed in.

“There’s plenty for everyone.” I saw how all the interns were smiling as they put away their tools. There was a marked difference in how they reacted to Mac, something which showed more than anything how far they had all come. Mac was turning out to be a far more patient teacher than he had ever given himself credit for. When I realized that everyone was watching, I studiously ignored our captive audience, though I could feel my father’s eyes boring into my back. After serving M.J., I busied myself dishing up plates of salad and garlic bread sticks. “When do Molly and Joe get back?’

“They already landed.” Mac took the plate from me and dug into the food enthusiastically. “Joe plans to come in tomorrow, and I’m taking the day off. You should play hooky.”

“Uh, no. Someone around here needs to set a good example.” I graced him with a sly smile and glanced down at his nearly empty plate. “Good salad?”

“Great salad,” the interns said in unison and Mac’s eyes slid to me. He had a tendency to tease me about the interns crushing on me. I think they were just happy to be fed.

I got Junior back to Mac’s and made sure he had his bath. We had some hot chocolate and watched a Halloween movie. I was tucking him in when Mac appeared in the doorway.

“You don’t want to be anywhere near me until I’ve had a shower,” he said with a wave. By the time I was done with M.J.’s bedtime rituals, Mac was waiting for me on the bed, wearing boxers and a smile. He was propped up on one elbow, watching me.

“I’m ready for dessert,” he drawled, as I locked the door behind me.

“I don’t know…based on your response to my salad…” I twirled my hair around my finger stopping just out of arms’ reach.

“I had seconds, didn’t I?” He didn’t move.

“So you liked it?” I kicked off my sandals and inched closer.

“I loved it.” He moved so fast that it startled me, even though I’d come to expect this sort of tactic from him. Before I knew it, I was on my back on the mattress caged between his arms.

“Does that mean I’m a ‘keeper’?” I quipped, but the look in his eyes held no humor whatsoever. One of his hands traveled up my inner thigh and disappeared underneath my dress.

“Hard to say.” His lips teased mine, and his husky voice made me wet before his fingers reached their final destination. I inhaled a quick loud breath, and spread my legs wider, eager to accommodate his large, calloused fingers. “I might need to test out the merchandise.”

He gently nipped my bottom lip, and his tongue plunged into my mouth just as his finger dipped inside my panties. I couldn’t keep my hands out of his hair, and I forced his mouth harder onto mine. I could feel my heart accelerating in time with his stroking finger, and he groaned against my mouth, grinding his rock hard erection against my thigh.

And then his phone rang. I recognized Joe’s ringtone, which in a fit of inspiration, Mac had programmed as “I’m Too Sexy.”

Mac pulled his mouth from mine with effort, his breathing labored. “Shit.”

I groaned, knowing he had to take Joe’s call. Mac pushed up off of me and scrambled for the phone.

“This had better be good, brother, you’re…” he trailed off and his posture shifted instantly. “Wait. What? Joe, I can’t…what the hell are you talking about? When?”

My heart raced in response to his tone, and I knew something terrible had happened. Mac flushed a deep purple, and the look that appeared on his face scared the hell out of me. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Dropping his phone on the bed he grabbed some clothes and started dressing.

“Mac.” I heard the anxious timber of my own voice. I was sure he was going to tell me there had been an accident or that something had happened to his grandmother. Though I didn’t want to ask, I had to know. “What’s going on?”

“Molly’s missing. Logan, too. A neighbor saw them leave with a man who’s been squatting in their house. I gotta get over there.”

He scooped up his phone, and I blinked at him stupidly, wracking my brain for something to say.

Finally, I nodded. “I’ve got M.J.”

He stopped and pulled me into his arms. I could feel him shaking, and his heart galloped wildly against my cheek. His voice cracked as he spoke.

“Thanks, Sugar. I’ll call you when I can.” He raced out the door and into the darkness.

I couldn’t sleep. I felt drained and exhausted from my week, but every time I closed my eyes, I could only picture little Logan, and wonder what in the world had happened to make Molly take him and leave with a stranger. I paced the house and started a load of laundry and dishes. Not being able to talk to Mac was killing me, but I knew the family had their hands full without me calling or texting. I finally passed out on the couch sometime after 3:00 A.M.

Mac Jr. woke me at about 8:00 A.M. asking where his father was and wondering if he could have Cocoa Puffs for breakfast. I told him his dad had gone to help Joe, which wasn’t really a lie. He accepted my explanation without question, which was a relief. I had no idea what to tell Junior, and honestly I didn’t want to have to tell him anything. I suddenly realized the incredible responsibility with which Mac had entrusted me. This was the terrifying side of parenting. The yin to the yang of picture day and cotton candy. The enormity of this role crystalized, and I was humbled by the faith Mac displayed leaving me to see Junior through this. I hoped I could swim, or at least tread water, since I was far beyond baking cookies and singing lullabies.

Junior asked if he could go outside to play, and after I made him promise he wouldn’t leave the back yard, I agreed. The moment the door closed, I switched on the television in an attempt to distract myself. I wasn’t prepared to be greeted by an image of Molly in her wedding gown. In the picture, she was holding Logan, and his infectious grin eerily matched hers.

I watched with horror as a reporter standing outside of Joe and Molly’s cute little brick cottage detailed the facts of the abduction of newlywed Molly Hildebrandt Jensen and her infant son, Logan.

“Authorities have released a picture of the man they believe to be responsible,” the somber reporter said in a hushed tone, “Mrs. Jensen’s ex-husband, Draven Cirone. According to an eye witness, the man had broken in and been squatting in the Jensen’s house while they were in Mexico. Sources say that photos of the suspect show him going in and out of the house. Investigators have confirmed that Cirone was recently paroled after being incarcerated for stalking and the attempted assault of Mrs. Jenson. Sources confirm that the Jensen’s were unaware of Cirone’s release.

“The couple had just returned from their honeymoon when Mr. Jensen left to pick up his daughter from a family member. When Mr. Jensen returned home, Mrs. Jensen’s purse and phone were found on the kitchen floor, and there were signs of a struggle. Police are asking for the public to assist in this case. If you see the suspect or either of the abductees, please call the hotline below. This is Kurt Upton, Channel Seven, live on the scene.”

When the news station flashed a photo of Draven on the screen, I slapped my hand over my mouth. I shivered as if someone had walked over my grave. I’d seen this man outside of Molly’s and Joe’s reception, and I’d actually spoken to him.

It happened right after I realized Mac and the boys were trashing Joe’s truck. Even though I knew they weren’t causing permanent damage, I couldn’t stand the thought of that stunning wedding gown having to get into the mucked up truck. Since I couldn’t stand by and watch, I had walked the long way around the glass and wood reception hall, and I almost ran head-first into a very well dressed man, who was smoking a cigarette and watching Molly and Joe cuddle their twins through the large windows. He turned to me in surprise and then flashed me a charming smile.

“Gorgeous night,” he remarked, exhaling a thin line of smoke.

“Gorgeous wedding,” I responded awkwardly. I didn’t normally strike up conversations with strange men in the dark, but I felt obligated to since I’d almost slammed straight into his chest.

“It was. And she is, too.” He nodded at Molly, and I heard just a hint of East Coast in his accent.

“Can’t argue with that,” I replied. “Are you a friend of Joe’s?”

“No.” He sounded almost sad when he said it, and his boyish face flashed darkly. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. When he looked back up at me, his smooth smile had returned. “I’m an old friend of the bride.”

I saw the cigarette was still smoldering in the dry grass, and I kicked some dirt onto it, concerned that this guy’s habit might start a fire that would burn the entire building and surrounding pecan grove to the ground. When I looked up, he’d vanished into the trees.

The memory of the incident chilled me, and I yanked my phone out of my back pocket and dialed Mac’s number. It rang until it went to voicemail. I gnawed nervously on my lip. There was no way I could call Joe, but I had to tell someone, and the only person I felt comfortable calling was Robin. Luckily she answered on the third ring.

“Hello.” She sounded hoarse and congested. It was obvious she’d been crying and knowing her, probably chain smoking.

“I just saw the news,” I said in a rush, and I quickly explained about my interaction with Draven. She sighed heavily.

“There’s no way you could have known.” Robin sniffed. “And the cops already know it’s him. Joe’s neighbor snapped his picture when she saw him lurking around the house. When she confronted the bastard, he convinced her that he was Joe’s brother. You should probably talk to the agents anyway. You never know what might help their case.”

“Do they have any leads?” I nearly bit my nails and forced my hand to my side when I realized I was doing it.

“The cops turned it over to the FBI. They have no idea where he took them. Mac’s out driving around with his biker buddies as we speak, searching. It’s pointless, but there’s no talking sense into him.”

“Can I bring anything?” My exasperation was probably obvious, but I needed to take some action and felt so helpless that I was ready to scream. I peeked out of the window and saw Junior playing with his bike pedals. “Can I do anything?”

“We’re drowning in tuna casseroles and Jell-O salads. Molly would be horrified at the shit that’s sitting in her fridge right now. Like Corn Flakes are an acceptable ingredient.” She uttered a humorless laugh and squelched it midway through. “It’s everything we can do to get Joe to let us hold Eva. He hasn’t slept and barely sits down. Just stay by the phone. I promise I’ll let you know if there’s anything we need.”

Later that evening, I put on a movie for Mac Junior, and I snuck into Mac’s bedroom to turn on the evening news. Another reporter was broadcasting live from outside Molly and Joe’s house. They managed to catch footage of Mac and his biker friends parking their motorcycles in front of the house. I watched as Mac hurried up to Mason and Joe, who were loitering in the driveway. Mason said something to Mac, and whatever he said must have pissed Mac off, because he stormed away and punched his truck repeatedly. Mason easily overpowered him, pulling him away from his truck, and though the cameras couldn’t pick up their words, he was obviously trying to talk Mac down. Seeing Joe was heart-wrenching. He just sat by watching them, his handsome face wan and ashen.

Unable to watch any longer, I flipped off the TV and immediately called Mac. I was sure I was headed straight to voicemail again, when he picked up, sounding out of breath.

“Hey, Sugar.”

“Mac! Are you okay?” My voice cracked, and the image of him going berserk on his truck was impossible to shake. “Did you break anything?”

“Huh?” he asked, clueless.

“I saw you on TV.” I sniffed, but I took a deep breath, refusing to fall apart. Mac needed me, not to have to comfort me. I had to keep it together.

“I’m fine, babe. I was just hoping for better news. The FBI says we’re running out of time. If we don’t find them within the next day…” He trailed off, and I was relieved. I couldn’t bear for him to finish the thought. “I’m just tired, Kelly. And I…I wanted to hurt something.”

“You need a nap and something to eat,” I urged him. “How’s Joe holding up?”

“There’s no easing his mind, but Tamryn got him to go inside to lie down on the couch. I feel like we’re in hell right now. All I can do is stand by and watch.” I could hear the pain and frustration in his voice, and I could relate to his feelings of helplessness all too well.

An angle popped into my mind, and I jumped on the idea right away. “None of you will do Molly any good if you keep this stuff up. She’d have a fit if she could see you all.”

There was a pause on the other end, and I worried for a second that I had misstepped. Then Mac let out a chuckle that sounded almost genuine.

“You all? I wish I had you on speaker. Mason could use a laugh. He enjoys watching you handle me.” I relaxed at the teasing note in his voice. He was hurting—that much was obvious—but he wasn’t as far gone as I’d feared.

After I got him to promise to take a nap and not to punch anything or anyone again, I hung up. I whipped up a quick dinner for Junior, and wondered if I should take some real food over to Joe’s. I dismissed the idea immediately. I couldn’t take Junior anywhere near that scene. I only hoped it would be resolved by Monday morning. There was no way I could protect him from this circus at school.

By the time I got him into bed, I was ready to crash. I changed into one of Mac’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts and crawled beneath the covers. My phone beeped, and I saw I had a message from Mac.

Mac: Miss you.

Me: Are you taking care of yourself?

Mac: I had a nap in the recliner and ate a sandwich.

Me: I’m glad to hear it. How’s Joe?

Mac: He went somewhere with his dad. Some reporter brought up his dead wife and son and accused him of being involved. Mason nearly took the guy’s head off. Robin made him go home. She doesn’t trust him around the press.

Furious, I wanted to go hunt down the irresponsible asshole who’d hounded Joe. I bit back my anger, knowing I had to be the level-headed one.

Me: Just remember that you have a little boy here waiting for you. You can’t go to jail either.

I must have fallen asleep the second my head hit the pillow, because I forgot to plug my phone into the charger and woke up sometime later with the screen of it pressed against my face. It was 2:00 A.M. I yawned and looked around wearily, trying to figure out where I was. Then I heard footsteps in the hall, and my heart fluttered.

“Junior?” I called, and when I opened the bedroom door, I saw someone in M.J.’s room leaning over him. “What the hell?”

The figure whipped around, and I saw that it was Patty. She nearly stumbled onto the bed, and she seemed to be struggling to focus her eyes on me.

“Where’s Mac?” Her words were slurred, and her gait was uneven as she advanced in my direction. She was wearing boots with two inch heels, and I was barefoot. Still half-asleep, I took an involuntary step back. She had a good four inches on me without the boots, and with them, I was a bit intimidated.

I heard M.J. stir in the bed.

“Shhh…” I urged her, beckoning for her to join me in the hall. To my surprise, she followed.

“Mac’s at Joe’s. Have you heard about Molly?” I asked.

“Of course I have,” she said indignantly. “Why do you think I’m here? I want Junior home with me. He doesn’t need to be a part of all this bullshit.”

“He doesn’t know anything.” I folded my arms across my chest, feeling exposed without a bra, make-up, or shoes. “How did you get in here? I know I locked the deadbolt.”

“Key…Mac gave me one a long time ago. So I wouldn’t have to wait for him to get home to get in the house.” The stench of alcohol hit me almost like a physical blow. It was the sour, acrid smell I associated with a dive bar. Scrutinizing Patty by the light of the hallway, it was painfully obvious that she was hammered. “I was in the picture a long time before you, honey. And I’ll be around a long time after he’s forgotten about you.”

The sneering way that she said it would have been more hurtful if it hadn’t been quite so pathetic. It was the haunted look in her eyes that gave it away. She had the look of a desperate animal, like something you might see chew its own arm off to get out of a trap. When I didn’t react, she turned to go back into MJ’s room.

“He’s asleep,” I said it quietly, but the steel in my voice stopped her mid-step. She turned to me with a look of shock that quickly twisted to anger.

“So what, bitch? I came here to get my fucking kid. He needs to be with his mother, not some slut who his father is shacking up with at the moment.”

“What he needs is sleep. Why don’t you get a cab and you can talk to Mac in the morning?” I motioned toward the front door, but her glazed eyes never moved off of me.

“You think you have any rights here? You’re just Daddy’s whore. That doesn’t give you the right to say anything about what my son does or doesn’t do.” Her voice was rising, so what I did next I did without thinking.

Grabbing Patricia by the arm, I moved her bodily to the front door, kicking the hallway door shut behind us. It might not keep MJ from waking up if she got out of hand, but at least it might muffle what was coming. Ripping her arm out of my grip, she wheeled on me. Before she could speak, I cut her off.

“Shut your mouth.” Her jaw snapped together with an audible clack. “Now you listen to me, Patricia and listen well. That boy is not going anywhere with you. You’re drunk, and in my opinion, a danger to yourself and everyone around you.”

She seemed to snap out of her stupor and raised her hand, as if to strike me.

“You honestly think you can keep me from taking my boy? I will kick your ass!”

“Please.” I glared at her. “I could take you blindfolded, you drunken cow.”

She looked at me for a second, as if trying to decide if I was serious or not. In that instant, there was not a doubt in my mind that if she swung at me, I was going to drop her. Of the many exercise classes I had taken over the years, one of them had been kickboxing. I almost wished she’d test me, so I could roundhouse kick her in the face. Patty’s hand slowly sank down to her side, and fear flashed across her face for an instant before a smugness replaced it.

“How about I call the cops? You think they’re going to take kindly to you keeping me from my child? Sounds a bit like kidnapping to me. You know, people are a little sensitive to that subject right now, when it comes to my family.” Rage blossomed in my chest at her casual use of Molly and Joe’s tragedy for her own ends.

“Let’s call them,” I chirped. Her eyes snapped up to mine.

“What?” She blinked stupidly.

“By all means, let’s call the police. First of all, they’ll want to know how you got here. Don’t tell me you drove? Or that you were actually considering taking a child out in your inebriated state? Five seconds after they get here, you’ll be in cuffs. You really don’t want to push me, Patty. As it stands, I’m a mandatory reporter, and I have serious reservations about your parenting.”

The fear on her face had blossomed into full-blown horror. “You can’t do this! You can’t keep me from my boy!”

“What kind of mother is more concerned about claiming her child as property, than his safety?” The anger I’d been holding in check began to work its way free. Before I could lose my temper, I wrenched the door open. “Give me the key to this house before I do something we might both regret.”

I thought she might fight me, or at least refuse. Then she thrust her hand into her pocket and threw the key at me. I let it fly by, and the metallic ring as it hit the wall let me know the general area where it had fallen. I didn’t take my eyes off Patricia until she was standing outside the door.

“Oh you’ll regret this, bitch. You mark my words, you’re going to regret this.”

I resisted the temptation to slam the door in her face.

“For God’s sake, quit acting like a two-year-old. The last thing this family needs right now is more drama. Get a cab, and go home. If you ever try to pull shit like this again, I will not only report you, I will make sure that CPS is permanently parked outside your house.”

The last image I had of Patricia was her flipping me off as I quietly shut the door and locked it.

When Sunday night came and Mac still wasn’t home, I had to make a decision. Call in sick and keep Junior home, or tell him what was going on and deal with the fallout. It had been forty-eight hours now, and though I hadn’t talked to anyone in the family, I could feel the rough sand slipping through the hourglass just the same. This story wasn’t going to have a happy ending, and I needed to figure out how to prep M.J. for the next chapter.

Junior was running his bath water, and I was wiping off the kitchen counter when I heard the front door open. I hurried in that direction, ready for round two with Patty, when I saw Mac standing before me. He wore the same clothes he’d left in, and his beard already looked overgrown. His pale eyes were sunken and hollow. He appeared drained, as if he might collapse at any moment. I dropped my washcloth and closing the space between us, I buried my face in his chest. His arm came around me slowly.

“Sugar.” His voice rumbled against my cheek. He tipped my chin up so I’d meet his eyes. His were red rimmed, and he looked like he’d been awake for a year. “I’m just here for a shower and to grab some clothes.”

I wasn’t prepared for his matter-of-fact dismissal. I wanted to pout, but I wouldn’t succumb to the urge. Instead, I pulled away from him, folded my arms, and straightened my spine. I had no intention of being the needy chick, but I was determined to advocate for Junior. “M.J.’s in the bathtub. You need to see him, and you need to tell him something about what’s going on.”

His eyes shot to mine. “You haven’t told him?”

“I didn’t know what to tell him, Mac.” I blinked at him in surprise, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. He was right. I should have thought of something to say by now. I was the grown-up here.

“Neither do I, Sugar.” He rubbed his face with both hands and gave a frustrated groan. “What do you even say about something like this?’

His hands dropped to his hips, and he looked at the floor. I could see he was not up to the task, and I was far too afraid to do it for him. I reached out and put my hand gently on his arm. “Let’s take our chances and wait. Let him get another good night’s sleep.”

His expression of gratitude was so dramatic that it made me want to cry.

He went in and talked to M.J. for a while and even tucked him in before jumping in the shower. Unable to stop myself, I shed my clothes to join him, but found the bathroom door locked. Though I had no reason to, I saw the locked door as a metaphor. Wounded, I dressed hurriedly and climbed into his bed.

Mac came out into the bedroom a short time later and sat down to put his shoes on. I ached for him to touch me, to look at me, to say something…anything. I was watching him, willing him to lie down beside me, when he turned in my direction. His gaze landed on mine, and I saw the storm behind his eyes.

“Stay,” I urged, trying not to sound desperate. He sighed, and for a minute I thought he was going to refuse. Kicking off his shoes, he rested back on the bed, pulling me into the crook of his arm.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he murmured, as if I was the one whose world was crumbling into nothing.

The next day, the thought of taking Junior into school horrified me. I called Principle Higgins and explained my dilemma.

“I completely understand,” Principle Higgins said. “I just wanted to warn you. Based on what I’m hearing on the news, I suspect that someone at this school has been speaking to the media. After Mac’s display yesterday, he’s on the paparazzi’s radar. I suspect it’s only a matter of time before the media descends on us and on you for that matter.”

I looked out of the window and saw the street was still clear. The thought of having to run a gauntlet of news people with M.J. made my stomach turn; but we needed groceries, and it sounded like I needed to get them quickly.

“What makes you think that it’s someone from the school talking to the press?” I asked.

“Certain phrases the reporters keep using, as well as details that are not common knowledge. I have my suspicions about who the leak is, but I have to wait until I have proof before I can do anything about it.”

I cringed as I imagined the press going over Mac’s life in detail…my life in detail. Taking a deep breath, I tried to maintain my calm.

“Can you find a sub to cover for me? Just for a couple of days?”

“Consider it done, Kelly,” Principle Higgins responded. “Take the time you need. I’ll have Jane drop off Junior’s work for the week, just keep me in the loop.”

I thanked her and hung up the phone. I immediately packed up M.J. and headed to the store. I wanted to make sure that if we were suddenly besieged by the media, we would have the supplies to hold out. M.J. didn’t ask too many questions when I didn’t take him to school, and he was overjoyed to be able to help choose meals for the week. I distracted him with talking about different recipes. Inevitably, our conversation about cooking led to him mentioning Molly, and it nearly broke my heart to think of what this little boy might have to hear about his beloved aunt.

An hour after we’d arrived home and unloaded the car, the first media van showed up on the street. I texted Mac to let him know, and he called me a few minutes later.

“Are you okay, Sugar? I can come home if you need me,” he said.

Though I ached to take him up on his offer, I knew he needed to be with his family.

“No, I made a run for supplies before the vultures arrived,” I joked. “MJ and I are going to do some cooking and watch some movies.” He was silent on the other end of the phone for so long that I pulled my cell away from my face to look at the screen and make sure we were still connected.

“Thanks, Kelly. Call me right away if any of those slimebags gives you any trouble. Mason and I will come running. He has a ‘special’ relationship with the media.”

I chuckled and assured him I would before hanging up.

It began to rain steadily as more news vehicles pulled up out front. I debated about driving to my apartment, but after calling my father he said Good Wood was dealing with media surveillance twenty-four/seven. I couldn’t even open the front door of Mac’s house to get the mail without someone screaming at me.

“Hey! Miss Palmer. Excuse me. Ma’am! Can we get you to give a statement?”

“Who’s that, Kelly?” Junior asked, as I returned with the mail.

“Nobody, hon.” I glared over my shoulder and heard the camera shutters whirring.

I’d heard nothing from anyone, and as I tucked Junior into bed, I shoved aside feelings of neglect.

“I don’t like storms. Thunder’s scary,” MJ said in a trembling voice.

“It’s okay. Thunder’s loud, but it’s harmless. Your dad made sure this house is as safe and secure as they come.” I smiled, pushing the thoughts of his mother’s home invasion from my mind. I stuffed the blanket around him like Mac had. “Snug as a bug.”

“…in a rug inside a hairy toaster!” Junior finished with a yawn.

I considered texting Mac, but quickly decided against it. My rational mind bucked against the idea, but my gut told me he was drifting away from me, and it might not be a temporary scenario. Angry with my own petulance, I reminded myself that real tragedy was going on all around us. I told myself to quit being a baby and toughen up.

I turned on the television, both hopeful and dreading what I might see. The news station I liked the best was already in the middle of its broadcast, with no earthshaking revelations. I flipped though channels before finding an old movie I’d always loved. As I drifted off on the couch, I wished for a feel-good eighties montage to return our lives back to the way they’d been just a few short days before.

LIFE IS ABOUT dealing with the shit that gets thrown at you. Even though I’ve taken my share of nut shots, I’d always managed to keep my feet under me. It never occurred to me that I would be faced with something I couldn’t handle. Then that greasy, evil psycho came out of the past and ripped a hole in my life.

Chaos has a way of helping you sort through the bullshit out of your life. After Molly and Logan went missing, I spent hours on my bike searching for them. Being on the road, dealing with the fact that I might never see my little sister again, I started to consider things in a different way. I’d spent so much of my adult life being afraid. I never admitted it to anyone, but I’d always worried that something would happen and that I’d lose M.J. to Patty.

This cowardly thinking was a large part of why I put up with so much shit from his drunkard mother. As long as she kept her life straight in regards to the boy, I was happy to let the rest of it slide. While I was pointlessly scanning the countryside for Molly and the boy, somewhere near the outskirts of Waco, I had a horrible thought.

What kind of life am I giving M.J. if I let his mother keep on like this?

That thought haunted me as I helplessly waited for the worst. I’d overheard the cops talking when I was out smoking. Half of them thought Molly went with Draven voluntarily. Fucking idiots. The other half figured she and Logan were already dead and buried in the country somewhere. As the hours ticked past, I desperately tried to take my mind off the images those gossiping assholes had left me with by running interference for Joe.

I was outside smoking with Sanchez, when Joe came to find me. I feared the worst, so I was relieved when he asked me to keep an eye on the house. He headed off with his dad to do some black ops shit to try and find Molly. I always knew his old man had clout, but I never would have guessed his dad was that connected. For the first time since Molly’s disappearance, I felt hope that we might have a chance of getting her and the little spud back.

After he left, I paced the house, chased off reporters who got too close to the yard, and tried to make myself useful. When Joe came back with no news, I tried to hide my disappointment. I left for a bit and hit a home improvement store. I figured the house could use new locks, in case Draven had copied the keys. It seems idiotic in retrospect, but the mind plays tricks on itself when it’s trying hard to cope with the terrible things people do to one another.

Joe came back out in the middle of the night, but one look at him and I could see he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Truth be told, I wasn’t either. He left the next morning with his dad, and I did my best to keep from losing my mind. The reporters were getting more aggressive and as snarky as hell. When one of them yelled questions at Granny, she grabbed the garden hose and promptly soaked both him and his camera operator. He’s lucky. If Mason and I hadn’t been so busy laughing, we might have beaten them both to a pulp.

Word came later that night that Joe’s dad had located Molly and Logan and that they were alive. I nearly collapsed, the relief was so palpable. But the news wasn’t all good. Joe had been the first one on the scene when they found them, and Draven had been armed. All I knew was that he was still breathing. By the time I got to the hospital with the rest of the family, Joe’s parents were waiting with the whole story.

That asshole Cirone was dead. Joe had snapped his neck like a twig. God, I would have loved to have been there for that. Molly’d been beat up real bad, and they informed us she’d just come out of surgery. Repeated blows to the eye caused a detached retina, and the docs had repaired it immediately. My mother started sobbing when they said she was getting antibiotics for multiple human bites. I asked if I could see her, but the nurse explained that they were about to perform a rape kit, so I’d have to wait. When I heard those words, “rape kit,” it took a lot of self-control not to punch something.

We were all relieved to hear that Logan seemed to be all right and that all they were giving him were some IV fluids for mild dehydration. Calm was just starting to set in, and that’s when they dropped the bomb that Joe was the one whom they were most worried about.

Joe had taken a bullet to the chest, but he’d been wearing a vest. He’d also been shot in the head at close range. Joe’s dad called it a “graze” and the doctor’s called it a “glancing blow.” Since he’d temporarily lost consciousness, they were taking him down for an MRI.

What a tough son of a bitch. Takes a bullet to the head and walks away from it. That’s some straight-up Clint Eastwood shit.

Things were tense for the next few hours as we waited for an update. The doctor came out and said Molly was asking for Eva, and Mom got to take her baby back to see her. As I wandered outside to light a cigarette, I called Kelly, waking her up out of a dead sleep to update her on what was going on. Just hearing the relief in her gentle voice was ten times more soothing than any of the reassurances we’d gotten from the hospital staff.

“They’re all in good hands, Mac.” I don’t know how that girl did it, but the complete confidence in her delivery made me feel like everything was going to be okay.

By the time I got in to see Molly, I was dead on my feet. Her bandaged eye and battered mouth gave me a sorely needed surge of adrenaline. She looked like shit, but she seemed more embarrassed than hurt; and all she could talk about was Joe. She was already fighting with the doc about when she could see him. They explained that Joe was undergoing medical tests and told her they needed to take Logan off to assess him further. Molly became nearly hysterical when they wouldn’t let her go along with him. I stepped in and promised her I’d stay by his side, and that’s exactly what I did.

Watching the pediatrician do a head to toe assessment on little Logan was more difficult than I expected. He had a large rash on his behind and a large bruise on his back.

“Your sister reported that her ex-husband tossed him across the room.” The doctor glanced over at me and went back to examining my nephew. I could feel my temper spike. “He landed on a chair, but it may not have had much padding. But we took some x-rays earlier, and nothing’s broken.”

As I tried to process this horrifying information, Logan woke up and when he saw the doc, he started screaming in terror.

“Hey, Buddy,” I soothed, hurrying to his side. Recognition showed in his eyes when he turned to me, and he climbed me like a spider monkey. He settled against my chest, trying to catch his breath between hiccupping sobs. I kissed the top of his dark, curly hair. He was in desperate need of a bath, and the whole incident really shook me up. He reminded me so much of M.J. at that age that I suddenly ached to see my son in a way I’d never experienced.

It was mid-day before I finally left the hospital. Joe was awake and talking. The doc said he’d have a scar near his eyebrow, but that was it. He really was one lucky son of a bitch.

Even in the face of a police investigation, Joe seemed unshakeable. Frankly, he seemed cooler and more collected than he had seemed in years.

“I want to see my wife.” It wasn’t a request, and the doc looked perturbed.

“I’m afraid I have to advise against it. You’ve had a head injury, Mr. Jensen. It’s—”

“Mac can wheel me down in a chair.” I was at the nurses’ station asking for one before anyone else could object. The doctor tried to block my path to Joe’s bed, but I brushed past him with a wheelchair.

“You both need to rest,” the doc argued, pushing his glasses up.

“We need each other,” Joe replied dismissively. I thought the cops stationed on either side of his door might stop us, but they just nodded and followed us in the direction of Molly’s room.

Their reunion was far too emotional for me to stick around, and exhaustion had taken hold of me. I drove home on autopilot, and by the time I reached my house, I was too tired to care about the reporters hollering at me. It was a struggle just to get up the front walk.

Kelly met me at the door, letting me in before the news people could get out too many inflammatory questions. In a daze, I clung to her like a buoy in rough seas. She led me to the bathroom, and I watched like a zombie while she started the shower. Somehow, she got me cleaned up and put to bed, but I remember very little about it.

I slept for a solid day and woke up early in the morning feeling a lot more like myself. I went in search of Kelly and found her in the kitchen feeding M.J. breakfast.

“Hey, you two,” I said.

“Hey.” Kelly’s concern was etched on her fair features. M.J. jumped up and squeezed me so tight, it made it hard to breathe. I swept him up into my arms, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be.

“Dad! Is Aunt Molly okay? What about Uncle Joe?” My eyes shot to Kelly over Junior’s shoulder.

“I told him they were in the hospital,” she explained in a whisper, fidgeting with her necklace. I nodded at her and set Junior back in his chair.

“Everyone’s alright, son. They need to stay in the hospital for a little while, but they should all be fine.” Heaving a giant sigh, M.J. dug his fork into his eggs and stuffed his mouth full, stopping from time to time to pepper me with more questions. Kelly stayed quiet, letting the boy take up all of my time. When he was done eating, M.J. headed in to brush his teeth and finish getting ready for school. Rising from the table, I walked around and knelt near Kelly’s chair.

“Thanks for taking such good care of him, Sugar.” I brushed her long hair out of her face so I could study her warm brown eyes. Her gaze never lifted from the floor.

“I’m just glad everyone’s okay…” Tears welled in her eyes and she collapsed on my shoulder with a sob. Stunned by her uncharacteristic reaction, I held onto her for dear life. It took a few minutes for her to cry herself out, and when she was done, she clung to me.

“Baby, shhh…” I said softly. “It’s okay, now. It’s all good.” Her grip on me didn’t lessen in the slightest, and I felt her shake her head against my shoulder.

“No, it’s not. But I hope it will be.”

The next few days were interesting. An ‘anonymous’ source at Kelly’s school had leaked details of our relationship, including that embarrassing picture, to the media. Those scavengers were still trying to squeeze every drop out of the Molly and Logan Jensen abduction and really went to town with it. Apparently I’d gained some notoriety during the search, and people were interested in me for some inexplicable reason. Reporters were hanging around outside the house, the shop, and Kelly’s school. Everyone in Austin felt like they had a right to comment about my family, and it took a lot of self-control not to kick a few asses and take a few names. To make matters worse, the damn Cirone family appeared on television calling for Joe’s blood.

I got permission from M.J.’s school for him to work from home for the week while things quieted down. Kelly brought home his assignments and helped him stay caught up. When he finally did go back, I was a lot more relaxed knowing Kelly would be there looking out for him.

I’m not sure how they did it, but Joe’s family managed to dismantle the Cirone agenda before it even got traction. Public opinion turned on Draven’s family once pictures of Molly’s battered face and the bite marks on her became public. The Cirone’s scuttled back into the dark like the vermin they were. Eventually, the media found some other bone to gnaw on, and things started to get back to normal for the lot of us.

When I returned to the store, I found out that the staff had gotten completely out of hand in my absence. Francis informed me that Nick was one outburst away from going after everyone with a chainsaw, so I sent the kid on vacation for a week. Nick left so quickly that I wondered if he’d ever be back. Locking the door, I put up the ‘closed’ sign and then grabbed the phone and dialed up the feature that let me talk through the speakers throughout the building.

“Now hear this. All staff are required to report to the main room in thirty minutes. As no one has approved sick or vacation time, I expect to see every last one of you. Anyone not present for this mandatory meeting will be terminated. That is all.”

I spent the next half hour reviewing time cards, checking the status of orders and pretty much doing the job I should have been doing in the first place. I figured that the few workers who were here would be texting the rest of the monkeys to get their collective asses back to the shop. Twenty-nine minutes after my announcement, I went out into the main workroom to see everyone present. Sonic the Hedgehog, Justin Beiber’s afterbirth, The Missing Weasley, CannonFodder Unibrow, Chubbs McFatty, Stinko McGee, and The Normal Kid. I had Francis by my side to point out who was actually who, and I made a mental note to try to memorize their names…eventually.

“Listen up, children. Nick’s on vacation. I’m going to be personally supervising each and every one of you. If you have a question, come find me. Can’t find me? Text me. If you’re bleeding out? Call 9-1-1, then call me. Otherwise, let’s try to handle things during business hours. I’ve just spent some time reviewing all of your files. At this point, I’d like to explain that your employment here is directly tied to your ability to perform the work assigned to you. That being said, due to recent unfortunate events, Joe and I haven’t been here to give you the guidance you deserve. Nick’s done a damn good job, but he’s put up with far too much crap from y’all. In the spirit of second chances, as of today, everyone’s going to start from scratch. Now listen up because I’m not going to repeat myself.”

For the next hour, I laid out the existing processes and policies. They weren’t new and this wasn’t their first time hearing them. Everyone had been required to read their employee handbook, and Joe made sure every new hire had received one. But I didn’t want to take the chance that any of them were illiterate or that they had just thrown the book away, so I spelled everything out.

1. Use your timecard as instructed, or you don’t get paid.

2. Finish the work assigned to you, and do it well, or you are out on your ass.

3. If you get stuck or need help, that is where I step in to teach you.

Yep, it’s true. I actually committed to each and every unwashed heathen in the building to help teach them how to be better carpenters. I blame Kelly. She is a horrible influence on me, making me want to be responsible and shit.

Now, I’m not going to say that first week went smoothly. Hell, I almost fired Sonic the Hedgehog before lunch that first day. But by the end of the week, the boys knew that I wasn’t screwing around. My way or the highway is a pretty harsh slogan to work under, but work you shall. I also managed to teach each of them at least one new thing every day. Watching them learn was pretty cool. Not that I would have admitted that to any of them, even under torture.

Nick came back at the end of the week, but I think he intended to quit. Before he could spout off, I explained the changes that had happened while he was gone, apologized for dumping so much on him, and gave him a two-thousand-dollar bonus check for his efforts. After that, he was more than happy to return to work at a much lower stress level.

Joe was doing some of our more complex carving work out of his garage, and he didn’t have any plans for coming back to the shop anytime soon. I reluctantly accepted my role as headmaster of Wood University, Good Wood’s carving school for the delinquent, the downtrodden, and the damned. It took a few wrong turns and more than a little assistance from Kelly, but I finally managed to get the crew working like some semblance of a team. I started a seniority system just like the trades use. Once an intern could show that they were capable, they also had to show they were responsible. Then they had to show that they could manage others. By the time Molly got into therapy and Joe came back into the shop, he claimed he barely recognized the place. I had our more experienced students mentoring a whole new batch of kids. We even had an outreach program where students went out to talk to shop classes at the local high schools. You never knew where you might discover a great woodworker.

No matter how rough my day was, I got to come home to Kelly, and her sweet face hit the reset button on my priorities. We’d moved beyond the ‘honeymoon’ phase of our relationship, but I don’t mean we weren’t still fucking like rabbits. We continued to have amazing sex at every single opportunity, but we just knew each other better, and it seemed like we didn’t sweat the small stuff nearly as much as we did before Draven came along and fucked up everyone’s concept of reality.

We spent Thanksgiving with my family, and it was awkward with Molly pushing her food around on her plate as quiet as a church mouse, and Joe watching her like she was wired with C-4. Everyone was so thankful to have them there and in one piece, we had our first argument-free holiday in recorded history.

Since Mason got married, it was a tradition to alternate Christmases with the in-laws. Accordingly, Molly’s gang was at the Jensen’s and Mason was with Robin’s crew in Houston. Kelly and I invited Granny and Mom over, along with Francis and Beverly. It was a pretty low key time, though Granny and Beverly got into a spirited political debate during a game of canasta. M.J., who’d been busy putting marshmallows into everyone’s hot chocolate, told them it wasn’t nice to argue at the table.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Mom decreed, and everyone was all smiles by the time the Southwestern Quiche and mom’s jalapenos came out of the oven.

The meal itself went off without a hitch, but picky little M.J. didn’t eat a whole lot of his meal. I encouraged him to try a taste, sure he’d be asking for pie twenty minutes later.

Junior turned to Kelly five minutes after I told him to take a few more bites. “Sugar, can I be excused?”

“That’s Miss Kelly to you,” I said, shaking my head

Kelly ignored me. “What’s the magic word?”

Junior’s face twisted, completely clueless. “Abracadabra?”

I snorted. “You manipulative little—”

“Malcolm...” Mom interjected, dishing one of her cream-cheese-stuffed jalapeños wrapped in bacon onto Kelly’s plate. Kelly eyed it as if it were a venomous cobra.

“May I be excused, please?” M.J. begged.

“You’ll sit politely while everyone else finishes, Junior.” I sounded gruff, but the kid needed to be reined in a little.

“Malcolm Thaddeus, it’s Christmas. Give the kid a break,” Granny admonished. M.J. turned his big sad eyes on me, but he held his tongue. Kelly nudged me, and her eyes twinkled as she fixed me with an abused puppy dog expression of her own.

“Fine. Go.” I exhaled, as if they continuously tried my patience.

“Yay! Present time!” Junior cried, jumping to his feet. “Can I be the elf?”

“I don’t know. You sure you can handle that kind of responsibility?” I drawled with a slow grin.

“Yes, Dad.” M.J. rolled his eyes in a condescending manner very much like his Aunt Molly’s. He was too young to pull that tween angst BS.

‘I’ll get the slushies,” Mom said, heading for the freezer.

“Slushies?” Francis asked.

“Family tradition,” I explained.

“Hildebrandts love tradition. Get used to it.” Granny patted Kelly’s arm with a smile. I felt a goofy smile on my lips, but she purposely refused to look at me after the pointed statement.

Junior threw himself into the role of elf, divvying up the presents into stacks. M.J. had a small mountain, as expected. Kelly and I were seated together on the loveseat, and Kelly’s stack just kept growing. Her eyes widened when she realized how many of the gifts under the tree were for her.

M.J. announced the final gift under the tree was also for her. It was the size of a jewelry box, and I saw a knowing look pass between the other adults in the room. Kelly saw it, too, and her eyes widened. A nervous laugh escaped me.

“Relax, y’all. That box is from the boy, not me.” As if in consolation, I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it. She released a giant sigh, and I tried not to be offended.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Granny snapped, and Kelly and I exchanged loaded glances. My arm went around her shoulders, and I rested my head against hers.

Over our lime vodka slushies (Francis’s and M.J.’s were non-alcoholic, of course), we took turns opening our gifts. My haul from Kelly was a Longhorn grill for tailgating. She and Robin had chipped in and picked up Cowboy’s tickets for Mason and me, and she’d already cleared my day off with Joe so I could go.

My presents to her included a t-shirt that said “I run because punching people in the face in frowned upon,” Downton Abbey DVDs, and reflective gear for running in the dark.

“Thank you.” She pecked me on the mouth, her eyes promising a much bigger gratuity later.

“I can’t have anything happening to you,” I murmured in her ear and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Can Miss Kelly open my present next?” M.J. was dancing back and forth as if he had the urgent need to use the restroom.

“Of course I can,” she replied, taking the tiny box from him. He’d insisted on wrapping it himself, and I could tell that the sight of his careful handwriting on the label yanked on her heartstrings. She popped open the lid of the velvet box, and we all saw a large silver cube on a delicate chain.

“It’s so pretty,” she told him, holding her arms out for a hug.

“It’s a sugar cube,” Junior explained, bounding into her arms. “It made me think of you since Dad always calls you Sugar.”

After our guests had packed up their cars and gone home, I FaceTimed with Kelly’s mom and her stepdad, which was awkward, since we’d never even spoken on the phone before. Kelly’s mom was kinda pushy about the entire thing, and I could tell Kelly was pretty embarrassed to introduce us over the internet. Regardless, I wanted to make a decent first impression, and Candice (as she insisted I call her), seemed friendly enough to my face, so to speak. M.J. had no such concerns about making an impression and kept the old broad talking for a good forty-five minutes before she finally told Kelly she had to go. We laughed about that for days.

For the most part, we were solid. We had tiffs about small things, like the fact that I rarely let her out of my sight. Her early morning runs made me jittery in a way they never had before, but she was way too headstrong to change her routines because of some dead man. She agreed to carry mace, and I declared that a victory.

Kelly had finally taken to leaving a few things hanging in my closet and had accepted a small drawer in my dresser so that she didn’t have to run home every day. Some might laugh at me for saying so, but for Kelly, this concession was akin to having my name tattooed on her ass. Every time I knocked over one of her giant bottles of shampoo or had to unplug her hairdryer to plug in my electric razor, it brought a smile to my face. Yes, we still had problems. Everyone does. But I felt like we were working out what we needed to, and no one will ever have a wrinkle-free existence.

M.J. was smitten with Kelly and thought she’d hung the damn moon. They conspired to make me eat healthier and gave me a hard time for the occasional cigarette I succumbed to. Though they drove me batshit crazy when they ganged up on me, I told myself that this was what a family was supposed to be like.

My family was ready to march us down the aisle at gunpoint if I didn’t propose soon. With the shop running so smoothly and things progressing so well with Kelly, it was inevitable that Patricia would lose her shit and cause her usual brand of calamity.

First, she filed a complaint with the court stating that my behavior on camera during Molly’s abduction was grounds for severing my parental rights. At first, I laughed it off. It had been months since the incident, and I figured no one would take her drunk ass seriously. As ridiculous as it sounds, I ended up in front of a judge explaining how punching the side of a truck was the best outlet for the unfathomable stress of a lunatic abducting my sister and nephew. I was lucky that I knew a few lawyers. Joe’s sister Tamryn recommended a family law guy she knew, Colt Dorr. He mopped the floor with Patricia’s ambulance chaser. The case was thrown out, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think Patty was done. I kept my lawyer’s card and put his number in my phone.

Her next trick was a simple smear campaign. Several anonymous calls were made to CPS, claiming that I spanked M.J. with a paddle. I was subjected to a series of interviews and inspections; family and friends had to tender character references. Kelly stayed away for weeks on end, not wanting to give them another target to focus on. Not having her with us added to my tension, and I lost my temper. I asked the case workers if they’d bothered to check on M.J.’s mother, as she might have been the one the tipster meant to call about. They claimed they didn’t find anything over at her place. The fact that she came up clean was definitive proof in my mind that she’d called them.

The final straw that broke the camel’s back came over spring break. Kelly was sleeping over that Saturday night, and we’d just drifted off, when the sound of breaking glass jolted me awake. Kelly sat straight up as well, and I saw that she was covered in glass.

“Mac! I can’t find my fucking key! Did you give that little bitch my key?!” I heard Patty slur. I rubbed my eyes, trying to figure out if I was having a vivid nightmare. I saw Patty, reaching up for the sill, as if she was going to climb in the broken window with no regard for the remaining glass.

“Mac!” Kelly snapped, and I realized she was trying to get me to move so she could crawl to the glass free side of the bed. She had a small bead of blood on her cheek, and I saw more glass in her hair. I hurried to accommodate her, though her expressionless face disturbed me.

“Mac!” Patty whined, her hand coming down on a part of the sill that thankfully was glass free. She stumbled, and I had no doubt she was drunk off her ass.

“Call the police,” Kelly said.

“Patty, don’t move. I’ll be right out,” I demanded. I dialed the phone as Kelly hurried into the bathroom. I trailed after her.

“Are you alright, Sugar?” I asked as I watched Kelly remove several large pieces of glass from her hair. By the light of the vanity, I saw a couple of other tiny cuts on her left forearm and on her hairline.

“I’m fine.” Her calm tone gave me the push I needed to leave her and go deal with Patty. I opened the front door for Patty, who was working her way up the steps, as M.J. appeared in the living room door.

“Mom?” He blinked at her tiredly, and for a second I thought he was going to start sucking his thumb, something I hadn’t seen him do since before he started school.

“Hey, baby,” Patty slurred, smiling a toothy grin.

“Why are you here so late?” he asked.

“It’s not late, little man. It’s early.” Patty laughed, and I noticed her car was parked half on the curb. She’d come inches from rear-ending Kelly’s car.

“I just called your mom a cab.” As soon as the sentence left my lips, I saw Kelly appear in the doorway.

“What?” Kelly asked, her voice as cold as a February rain.

“I’m just gonna sit down for a minute,” Patty murmured, and she plopped down on the couch. “Junior, can you get Mama a glass of water?”

“Okay,” M.J. replied, and brushed past Kelly on his way into the kitchen.

“What’s she doing here?” Patty’s gaze settled on Kelly. Kelly’s dark eyes found mine, and she seemed to assess me in a quizzical manner I’d never seen before.

“That’s a good question,” Kelly chimed in, and she spun on her heel and vanished into the bedroom. I assumed she’d decided to wait out Hurricane Patricia in there until the cab came, but three minutes later she appeared fully dressed with her bag slung over her shoulder. She was still bleeding a tiny bit, and I reached out for her; but she sidestepped me as if I was a piece of furniture.

“Kelly,” I blurted, as the door slammed in her wake. I realized I couldn’t go after her, and I immediately shot her a text.

Me: Please call me when you get home. I want to be sure you get there okay.

“Where’s Kelly going, Dad?” Junior was visibly upset, and I had no idea what to say to comfort him. I needed someone to comfort me.

“She’s going home, Sweetie.” Patty’s tone was as sweet as honey, and it made me feel a little homicidal. As much as I wished her gone forever, I had no desire to have M.J. see his mom hauled off our front lawn in cuffs.

Patty was out of the house in less than ten minutes, but it took forever for me to get M.J. back to sleep. The next day I took Junior over to my mom’s and went in search of Patricia. She was lying on her living room floor, the door ajar, her keys still in the lock. I didn’t even raise my voice, but I think the calm way I spoke to her scared her.

“If you ever pull anything like that again, if you ever come to my home drunk, or I even suspect that you are drinking when M.J. is with you, I will take you back to court, and that will be it. No visitation. No child support. Nothing. Do you hear me?”

She had stared at me with a haunted look of fear that almost made me feel bad. One look at her keys in the door, though, made all of my guilt vanish.

When I went to see Kelly I was nervous that she wouldn’t answer her door. She let me in, but our reunion wasn’t pretty. She picked up right where we’d have left off the night before, had she not stormed out.

“I don’t understand why you keep giving Patricia second chances. As far as I’m concerned, she belongs in a loony bin.”

“She knows there are no more chances,” I explained, but when I put my hands on her shoulders she shrugged away from me.

“What if she’d broken Junior’s window? What if he’d been cut instead of me?” I could tell by her body language that she’d been rehearsing this fight since she left my house. “Would you have called the cops then?”

“Junior has enough to overcome without having a jailbird mom.” I thought I sounded reasonable, but my words seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Are you still hung up on Patty?” She frowned, and I laughed. It was my instinctual reaction, but it made Kelly furious.

“I think we need a break,” she proclaimed as she marched to the door, flinging it open.

I didn’t let her kick me out that day, but there was no resolution to our argument. We fought about Patty for about a month, on the phone, over text, and once in a while in person when I could get her to agree to dinner. I could tell that Patty wasn’t something that I would be able to explain away, and there were times when Kelly’s arguments were so well thought out that she actually had me doubting my own motivations. Our talks on the subject had never been pleasant, but now there was a giant wedge between us.

One of the things Child Protective Services asked about during their probes was how often Kelly spent the night. I’d had no choice but to tell her about it, and Kelly used this to solidify her stance that she stop sleeping over period. I talked until I was hoarse, but she wouldn’t hear me. Junior was crushed when she stopped coming over while he was with me.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. I tried to explain, but found myself pissed at her in the process.

How she could so easily cut him out of her life?

Thankfully, Kelly stopped by the very next night with Junior’s favorite Chinese takeout. She assured him she’d still tuck him in before she went home, and I could tell by her gleaming eyes that she missed him. I took comfort in it.

In hopes of keeping the peace, I tried to keep Kelly out of any of the problems that Patty caused after that.

I made a point of checking up on Patty and was surprised. Her house stayed clean, and as far as I could tell, every time I stopped by she was sober. I didn’t even smell old cigarette smoke inside the house the last time I was there.

“Did I pass inspection, Warden?” She acted like it was all a big joke, but I wasn’t laughing.

“This isn’t a game, Patty,” I said.

As I was pulling out of her driveway, I noticed Patty wave from the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. Junior was beside her, and the image of her with her arm possessively around our son made me wonder what her next move might be.

WHEN MAC BACKED out of taking me to Jerry’s wedding in San Antonio, I wasn’t surprised. They were so behind at the shop, and things were so messed up between us that I would have been amazed if he’d kept our plans. He’d had to cancel on me before in the previous two weeks, and though I tried to tell myself it was nothing, I’d never been a big believer in coincidence.

We’d been out of school for two days, and I was sure he’d start pressuring me to stay over again now that I was on summer break. I missed him, I missed M.J., and in my heart I wanted him to invite me back. It was foolish to wish in silence, but after seeing him with Patricia, I didn’t feel as confident about us. I wondered if there were lingering feelings between them. After seeing them together, it was surprisingly easy to imagine them married. The eager way she looked up at him, the calm and soothing way he spoke to her. How he ignored my injuries to make sure that Patricia didn’t hurt herself. It was all just too much.

As much as I wanted to tell myself I was being ridiculous, a slow trickle of doubt worked its way into my mind. The worst thing had been hearing her interact with M.J. That had been an eye opener. It was obvious that that little boy didn’t need me and my sophomoric attempts at child-rearing. He had a mommy who wanted to be in his life. Having my own step-parent, I knew what that meant for any fantasies I had about our future. Though I respected Bart more than I did both of my parents, he’d never be my flesh and blood.

During one of our recent fights, I’d finally mentioned the late night visit we’d had from Patty when Mac was at Joe’s. Mac was furious when he found out.

“Why am I just now hearing about this?” he snapped. My heart beat a thousand miles a minute when I saw how upset he was.

“I handled it, Mac. I took her key and kicked her out.” I kept my cool, though I wanted to yell back at him. “You had your hands full with Joe, and I didn’t want to bother you. Then with everything that happened when y’all found them, it slipped my mind.”

I watched him process my explanation, and the longer he was silent, the madder I became. Why was I defending my actions? How fucked up was that? Mac seemed to think Patty’s behavior was no big deal, and he wouldn’t even entertain taking her back to court. The way he defended and made excuses for her was a serious blow.

He finally reached for me, and though I was tight with tension, Mac’s caresses soon turned me into a pile of jelly. “I’m sorry, Sugar. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

We digressed into sex, as we always did after our fights, but while he drifted into a peaceful sleep, I stared at the ceiling and wondered what had become of me. As nice as it was to hear that he needed me, his words and actions didn’t match up. Regardless of his take on things, Patricia’s drunk and disorderly behavior put me in an ethical dilemma. If Mac refused to do anything about it, I might find myself in a position in which I’d have to report her. Rather than be the bad guy in this situation I decided that I had to keep my distance, and I began to spend a lot less time at Mac’s place.

The subject of Mac came up every time my father and I had our weekly dinners, which we still scheduled religiously. I figured if anyone could give me male insight, especially into Mac, it was Dad. To my surprise, my father went out of his way not to have an opinion. He listened to me intently, with what seemed like neutral objectivity. He asked questions without providing advice, and it was pretty frustrating. I still loved the time with him, though. He seemed very happy with Beverly and looked so healthy, it was hard to believe he was the same man I’d encountered on my first trip to Austin.

These were the thoughts rolling around in my anxious brain as I navigated my car toward the beautiful hotel that would host Jerry’s wedding. Jerry’s cowboy Chuck was a physical therapist from San Antonio whose parents were both doctors. I was very glad my mom didn’t know any of this. Once the pics hit Facebook, I knew I’d never hear the end of it.

Ever since Molly’s situation became national news, my mother had blabbed to everyone she knew that I was dating Mac, the handsome biker brother of the pretty chef who had been abducted. The gorgeous one who lost it and beat up his truck on live TV when he heard they hadn’t found her. I could just imagine her regaling people at the salon, the country club. The notion of my private life being casual gossip all over Denver would have been nauseating, had I not been so in love with Mac and so proud of the dignified way he’d handled the media attention.

Mom had been pushing to come down and meet him in person since Molly went missing, but we’d agreed she should wait until summer vacation so that I’d be off of work and available to be their full-time Austin tour guide. Since the broken window incident over spring break, things between Mac and me had taken such dismal turn, I’d been tempted to call off their visit entirely. I’d been dragging my heels. I just couldn’t accept that we couldn’t fix things.

For the first time in my life, my heart was in charge, not my head. Mac was the one, I felt it as sure of that as I felt sure that I could push through the next mile every time I ran. I knew what kind of man he was. The kind who didn’t leave his sister hanging, even though they fought constantly, who played Battleship with his kid on Saturday mornings before he’d even had his morning coffee, the kind who worked his fingers to the bone to cover for a friend so that he could be with his struggling family.

I already had myself pretty worked up during the rehearsal dinner when I discovered I’d been paired with the bad John Travolta impersonator who’d been my blind date when I first moved to Texas. I pulled out my phone immediately to text Mac.

Me: God help me, I have to walk down the aisle with that quasi-cowboy who Jerry set me up with back in the day.

Mac: He’s all hat, no cattle. Wish I was there to help you shower his Axe body spray off afterwards. ;)

His lighthearted response made me want to rush back to Austin and into his arms, wedding be damned. I barely slept a wink that night, and I had to OD on eye-drops the following morning so I didn’t look like a ghoul in the photographs.

Somehow I got through Jerry’s wedding without having an embarrassing breakdown, but I was so tired that I felt a little punchy. Everyone on the groom’s side was so full of themselves, I was having a hard time keeping a straight face. When Jerry’s very pregnant cousin told the groom’s bossy mom to “kiss her ass,” I had to leave the room before I burst out laughing.

The ceremony was a beautiful, extravagant affair. Dress was black tie, and the flowers were all white lilies and roses. It was a candlelight ceremony, and they played Enya on the harp as we walked down the aisle. I realized just how much Mac would have hated everything about the pretentious affair, and I giggled a little.

Jerry looked amazing in her backless gown, and somehow she managed to smile prettily the entire wedding, even though her father bawled like a baby the entire walk down the aisle. Considering all the fanfare, the ceremony itself was blessedly brief, and before I knew it, I was sitting at the head table. The Lesser Travolta poured me a glass of champagne, his eyes lingering over my low-cut neckline. I knew I was in trouble. I didn’t have the reserves to be nice, and if I had to stay at the reception for longer than ten minutes, I’d crawl under the table and go to sleep.

Somehow I made it through the speeches to the dance, and the sheer awkwardness of having to dance with Todd was more effective than splashing water on my face. I had to admit, he was nearly as unfortunate-looking in his tux as he’d been in his hipster cowboy getup. I learned the night before that he was an orthopedic surgeon and was relieved that my mother wasn’t telepathic.

“I know I made a very bad first impression,” Todd said, as if it were an attempt to break the ice. “I was really nervous before you got there, and when I saw you…”

I looked away, trying not to let him see the expression on my face. I couldn’t believe things could be more uncomfortable than they already had been, but if that was what he was going for, he’d accomplished his mission.

“You’re so nice looking, it makes me nervous. I become a total jackass when I’m nervous. Then I drink too much to try to relax, and that makes me even stupider. I just want to say I’m sorry.” He smiled, and self-deprecation was a far better look on him. I smiled back.

“I wasn’t exactly nice,” I replied, realizing that I was a complete bitch to him that night, and if anyone owed anyone an apology, it was me. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Jerry says you’re seeing Mac these days,” he continued, and I nodded in response. “Where is he tonight?”

“He had a big job that had to be finished under a deadline,” I lied smoothly. I had no desire to discuss my relationship with Dr. Awkward. Still, the question he asked rolled around in the back of my mind for the rest of the evening. By the time I extricated myself from the festivities and got back to my room, my knee-jerk defense of Mac had really started to bug me.

Mac would have hated this, but I wasn’t exactly thrilled about playing eighteen holes of golf in 100-degree weather, or being dragged to a biker rally where I was asked by random passerby to take my shirt off no less than fifty times. I went anyway, because he asked me to. Part of a relationship is doing things for the other person that you don’t care for. He could’ve had Joe cover for him. God knows he’s covered for Joe enough. He could have come with me; he just chose not to.

I shook my head and took several deep breaths. I could feel the ‘fight or flight’ response kicking in, but I was tired of running. Just because he didn’t want to be bored at a wedding didn’t mean he didn’t want to spend time with me.

Or did it?

I argued with myself, trying to squelch the disquieting thoughts so that I could rest. Finally, when the agitation had driven away all of my fatigue, I broke down and called Mac. The phone went right to voice mail. I tried a few minutes later, and it did the same thing. A half hour later when I tried again, I got the same result. I suddenly didn’t feel like staying overnight in the hotel. Packing up, I checked out and headed back to Austin.

Traffic was almost non-existent this late in the evening, and I made exceptional time. An ocean of caffeine later, I rolled into the outskirts of town. During the drive, I’d managed to put all of my concerns to rest. I planned to go home, unpack, and get a few hours of sleep.

When I pulled into my parking spot and didn’t see Mac’s truck at Good Wood, I found myself swinging out by his place. I tried to convince myself it was no big deal, that I wasn’t a psycho stalker girlfriend checking up on her man. But when his truck wasn’t in his driveway either, that fact sent me into a near panic attack.

Where the hell was he? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Is he with someone? Is that why he didn’t want to go out of town with me?

I hated the voice in my head. The whiny, needy voice of every woman I had ever heard talking about her man stepping out on her. I was not that woman; this didn’t happen to me. Yanking my phone out of my purse, I angrily clicked on his number. A groggy sounding Mac picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, Sugar. Need bail money?” The gentle, teasing voice he used should have calmed me down. Instead, I found myself fighting a losing battle against lashing out at him.

“I tried calling you, but your phone kept going to voicemail.” There was a pause, and when he continued it pained me to hear a note of caution in his voice.

“M.J. was playing a game on it and it went dead. I just woke up. I’m sorry I missed your call. Everything all right?”

I took a breath and controlled my tone.

So where the hell are you “sleeping”, Mac?

“I was just worried. The party was lame, so I came home. I’m going to let you get back to sleep.”

“It’s okay,” Mac interrupted. “Sleeping in a tent doesn’t lend itself to getting a lot of rest.”

I paused in the act of hanging up and put the phone back to my ear. “What?”

I heard him rustling around, and a few seconds later he was back on the line.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake the boys. I used to love camping out, but I’m too old for sleeping on the ground.”

“You’re camping?” I asked.

“Yeah, kind of last minute. We finished up the job, and M.J. got a wild hair to camp out in the yard. He called his cousin and, next thing I know, I’m sleeping in Mason’s back yard instead.”

I felt the crushing weight of guilt crash down upon me. Every horrible thought I’d had since I first tried to call him illustrated what a paranoid psycho I was. I kept my voice light, but let all of my exhaustion show.

“Sorry I woke you, hon. Have fun. I’m going to get to bed.” I disconnected before he could say anything else, feeling like an absolute idiot. Better for Mac to wonder about my actions then for me to open my mouth and verify what a crazy woman he was dating.

Luckily, Mac had been too tired to remember much about our conversation, and it blew over without an explanation. The incident bothered me enough that I found myself coming back to it over and over. Something about it didn’t add up, but it took me a while to pinpoint what it was.

There was a pattern that I hadn’t noticed before. Mac had been canceling our plans so often lately that I had just started to get used to it. On top of that, he didn’t invite me to his house anymore, and the occasional night we did spend together was at my place. I hadn’t seen M.J. at all in the entire month of June. Mac refused to talk to me about Patricia anymore, ostensibly because he didn’t want to fight about her. I found myself feeling disconnected from both Mac and M.J.

July was no different, though Mac was at my place a lot more. He invited me to come with him and M.J. to Galveston, where they’d rented a beach house with Mason’s and Molly’s families. More than anything, I wanted to be a part of their trip, to feel included like I had once felt. But everyone in his family had been acting bizarrely. When I came into the shop, conversations would stop immediately, and I felt like Joe wouldn’t look me in the eye. Mason had avoided me when I’d seen him at Molly’s the weekend before, and I got the overall vibe that no one wanted me around. My heart said that Mac and I weren’t in the right place for a trip, and it would feel forced and artificial for me to be there. When I finally told him I couldn’t go, he looked crushed.

“Why not?” His wounded eyes searched mine.

“I don’t want to make things awkward for everyone.” I tried to move away, but he held me fast, and made it impossible for me not to look him in the eye.

“What’s going on, Sugar?” he demanded. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say,” I replied, and the old feeling I used to get before a break-up came over me. I felt sick, probably because I didn’t feel like I was the one ending things. I grasped at a straw. “I don’t want to give your ex more ammunition.”

He continued to watch me, his blue gaze relentless. I saw his expression transform. “This isn’t about Patty, is it? You just don’t want to go.”

“I never said that.” I hated that he could read me so easily, when I felt like I couldn’t read him at all. I tried to pull away once more, but his grip on me tightened.

“Well, then come,” he shot back.

“No one wants me there, Mac.” I wriggled out of his grasp and stood. “You don’t even want me there. Why are we still doing any of this?”

“Whoa.” His astonishment radiated off of him. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“Don’t do that.” I folded my arms.

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t try to turn this around on me. Things have changed since…well, since Molly’s abduction. Everyone’s avoiding me. I’m not quite sure why, but I know that I’m not crazy.”

“No one’s saying you are. And I’m not trying to turn this around on you. Throw me a bone here; I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stared at him for a minute, searching him for some clue of what was going on inside his head.

“Do you love me?” The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I instantly wanted them back. Their needy undertone made me hate myself. Mac looked genuinely alarmed and climbed to his feet. He pulled me tight against him.

“Damn straight, I love you, Woman. I’m…confused. What did I do wrong?”

I was tempted, sorely tempted, to spill it all out right there. The strange looks, the cancelled plans. All of it. But when it came time to actually say the words out loud, I felt like a fool.

I’m afraid that you don’t love me.

That you don’t want me anymore.

All of my fears played out like a movie in my mind, but I didn’t say a word. I just silently gazed into his eyes. I hated that feeling. Being vulnerable. Worrying was driving me crazy. I’d discovered the hard way that it was one step from questioning your relationship to ruining it.

“Things are weird.” As statements go it was truthful, if a bit vague.

“Kelly,” he murmured quietly. “Things have been stressful. That’s why I wanted you to come on this trip. It’s a chance for us to reconnect away from all the craziness that we have to deal with here.”

“It’ll all be here when we come back. We can’t run away from our problems, Mac.”

He gave me a cheeky grin that was a painful reminder of how lighthearted he was when we first met. “No, but we can give them the slip and go have a margarita.”

So I went, and it was wonderful. Junior had tears in his eyes when they came to pick me up.

“Kelly!” He beamed. “You didn’t tell me Kelly was coming, Dad!”

His enthusiastic response touched me, and I cried too. Mac held my hand for most of the three-and-a-half-hour car ride. We played several rounds of “I Spy” and sang along with the radio all the way down to the gulf. It felt normal…like old times.

The entire trip was a blast. The moment I arrived, Molly and Robin cheered as if I was some long lost friend. They dragged me out for a spa day that Molly’s friend Dan had set up. We drank champagne and had massages and mani/pedis. And absolutely nothing about our conversations felt weird or forced. Maybe I’d been paranoid after all. It certainly seemed that way.

That first night, we all went to the Pleasure Pier. Mac and I played with Eva and Logan while Molly and Joe went on a couple of rides. Eva took off running from Mac, and he had to walk laps with her to keep her happy. Logan kept playing with my hair. He’d grown into a cheerful toddler, batting his flirty blue eyes at every woman who looked his way. It was impossible to imagine he’d ever been through anything out of the ordinary from his behavior, though he didn’t run around nearly as much as Eva did. The twins really brought out my baby envy. I couldn’t get over how big they were and how quickly they’d grown.

After everyone had their fill of the amusement park, we crossed the highway to Wrapgasmic. I was curious about the Galveston location, having a hard time imagining Molly’s food truck as a regular restaurant.

It wasn’t at all regular. A giant red food truck sat out in front of a bright red building. When Robin and I took the kids inside to use the restroom, I saw that the building seemed to be a retro bar. The place was crazy busy, but when the staff saw Molly, they made every effort to accommodate us like VIPs. All of us left with free t-shirts, and to her horror, most of us chose the one with Molly posing like a pin up.

The days flew by, a heady mix of sand, suntan lotion, and adult beverages. The guys went deep-sea fishing one day, and we ladies stayed at the house with the kids making crafts with seas shells. Each couple took turns minding the kids so that the others got to go out alone. We played games with the little ones, cards with the adults after they were all in bed, and watched movies when it rained one afternoon.

It turned out that I had no reason to worry about things being awkward with Mason and Joe. They seemed completely normal in all of our interactions, and Mason in particular went out of his way to engage me in conversation. Joe picked me for his sand volleyball partner, and though Mac tried to talk smack, we left the island undefeated.

Mason, Mac, Robin, and I took the bigger kids to Moody Gardens and went out on a paddle boat. Robin got violently seasick, though she’d pre-dosed herself with motion-sickness medicine. Mason bribed the guy to turn the boat around fifteen minutes early, and the other customers were all pissed. It was the one ugly moment of the entire trip, but I absolutely loved Mason for it.

The kids retreated to the living room for a video game tournament while Mason saw to Robin, and Mac and I cuddled in the hammock on the deck right outside within earshot. I was so at home, nestled in the crook of his arm, that I nearly dozed off.

“This…” Mac squeezed me tight against his chest. His lips brushed my forehead, and then kissed it softly. “This is the best part of my day.”

It touched me so deeply, I couldn’t speak. I burrowed into him and responded with several soft kisses instead.

We spent the rest of the week outside. We swam in the pool, built sand forts on the beach, and buried Mason when he fell asleep in the sun. We went out on bike rides around the neighborhood, since our rental came along with several, including a tandem bike that Molly was obsessed with.

Mac and I went for runs in the mornings, and the sand totally trashed my shoes. I had no choice but to buy new ones after the trip, but I wouldn’t trade those sunrise miles for anything. When Mac and I had our turn to go out alone, we visited The Strand Historic District. We sipped wine-a-ritas while we wandered hand in hand through the shops. We tried on crazy hats and bought cheesy t-shirts and obnoxious trinkets to put away for stocking stuffers, which were a major Hildebrandt Christmas tradition. After we stowed our purchases in the trunk of the car, we pigged out on calamari at a little dive on the water. It was an all-around perfect day.

I had my own bedroom in the sprawling beach house, but Mac’s was right next door. The entire week we were there, I never once slept alone (not even for a nap). We put a lot of effort into being discrete, but I don’t know who we thought we were kidding. None of the adults were fooled. The second night we were there, Molly rolled her eyes when I told Mac goodnight and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, and I heard Robin ask Mac if he was going to “tuck me in.”

On the last night of our trip, I woke up with a start and couldn’t get back to sleep. Mac was snoring softly, so I crept out through the living room to the balcony facing the gulf. The moon was full, and the roar of the surf made me feel infinitesimal. Hypnotized by the sheer power of the black waves, it wasn’t until I heard her clear her throat that I realized I wasn’t alone.

“Jesus!” I gasped, turning to see Molly sitting on a rocking chair.

“Sorry,” she replied calmly and went right back to looking at the water.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked.

“Most nights,” she replied, and I instantly felt my stomach sink to the sand below.

“Sorry. I didn’t think,” I stammered, mortified at my thoughtless comment. “That was insensitive.”

“No it wasn’t,” she stood and moved to the railing beside me. Her face held so much serenity that it put me at ease. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, and her sleeve of tattoos looked vibrant and alive, like a snakeskin of living art. “You actually made me feel normal just now. It doesn’t happen often.”

I had no idea what to say to that, so I kept my mouth shut.

“I’m so glad you came, Kelly. It’s amazing to see Mac so happy. He can be a complete douche, but he has a heart the size of Texas. You two…you just fit, know what I mean? You…mesh.”

“I hope so.” It came out before I could stop myself. She turned her blue eyes, so very much like Mac’s, in my direction. I saw a wisdom behind her eyes that belayed her years.

“I know so,” she insisted, and she turned and disappeared through the sliding glass door.

Leaving Galveston was hard. I managed to stave off the sense of foreboding until we reached the Austin city limits. M.J. crashed before we even got out of Houston, so we’d had a lot of time to talk. Mac insisted he wanted to take mom and Bart out to dinner when they came to town, and he recommended The Salt Lick when I told him they needed a solid dose of Texas.

“Too bad Molly doesn’t have her BBQ place open yet.” I replied. “I’m sure mom would just love to get a selfie with her so she could show it off to everyone she meets.”

“That can be arranged,” he drawled, turning his gorgeous eyes on me. We looked at each other until Mac was forced to avert his eyes back to the road. His rakish smile evaporated, and he spoke.

“Thank you.” He sounded surprisingly serious. “For coming along. It meant a lot to me.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I had that feeling again, the one that insisted I memorize his profile, so I’d have it to hold on to one day when he was a distant memory. I shoved the feeling away like an old, unwelcome suitor, and focused on the overwhelming feeling of love I held for the man before me.

“It meant a lot to me, too,” I replied, reaching over to stroke his hair.

Once I spotted the giant run my fingernails created, I ripped my second pair of stockings and hurled them across the room like a toddler in the midst of a vicious tantrum. My mom had changed all of our plans at the last minute, and I was bitter about having to wear stockings in the first place. It was August in Texas, for the love of God. Who does that?

When I’d suggested that we’d take them out to The Salt Lick the week before they arrived, my mother had scoffed.

“Nonsense. We’re treating you. I made a reservation at The Driskill Grill. Make sure to let Mac know so he’s ready for the dress code.”

Mac took this unintended dig in stride. I think I’d sufficiently laid the groundwork for him on what to expect from my mother, so he wasn’t even phased. He’d made a show of displaying his khakis and suit coat combo for me the weekend before.

“I don’t know…” I said with mock disapproval. “I think you’d better model it for me.”

Watching Mac dress was always nearly as erotic as watching him undress. We got as far as the tie, before I busied myself removing every stitch of clothing from his body. Things got a little raunchy that day, but he got to keep the tie on. It just wasn’t tied around his neck.

I debated the hose situation as I looked at my navy dress in my full length mirror. With a shrug, I decided to pair it with gold open toed heels and go without hose. If mom didn’t like it, she could dine alone.

Mom and Bart were expecting me to meet them at their hotel in twenty minutes, and our reservation was for twenty minutes after that. Since Mac had to wrap up a project with Nick, he was planning to meet us there.

I was handing my key to the valet when my phone rang. Seeing Mac’s name, I answered it immediately.

“Calling to bail on me?” I joked, and when his response was a very pregnant pause, I felt my lips and fingertips start to tingle.

“I’m not gonna make it, Sugar.” The world wavered around me for a moment as rage coursed through me.

“What?” My voice shook as I tried, and failed, to keep my anger in check.

“I got to take care of something. Tell your mom I’m sorry.” With that, the line clicked dead and I pulled the phone away from my head and stared at it.

He’d hung up on me. He’d actually fucking hung up on me.

My car had already zipped off under the care of a valet, but for a moment, I thought about leaving. I had the urge to go find Mac and throttle him. We’d talked, at length, about this night and how important it was to me. I’d teased him about leaving me high and dry, but I had never expected it to actually happen.

Humiliated, I went inside. The dinner was beyond awkward. Mom was more gracious about the entire affair than I had ever seen her. In a way, that made the abrupt way Mac had ditched me even worse.

I’ll give him a chance to explain.

By the time I said good night to Bart and Mom, I was surprisingly calm. I left the restaurant and tried Mac’s number. It went right to voicemail. I drove back to the apartment and tried again. Voicemail. Now my stomach was starting to twist in knots. Worried, I decided to go out to his house. When I drove up, the lights were off, and the truck was gone. Defeated, I went back to my apartment. When I got there, I tried calling again and went right to voicemail. I decided to text Mac, but ended up erasing the text seven times. Finally, I decided to keep it simple.

Me: Hey. Give me a call when you have the time.

I read and reread the text before sending. But the second my finger hit the button, I wanted the text back. It was better than leaving a voicemail; at least on a text he couldn’t hear the pain in my voice. Still, I wished I hadn’t left him a message at all. If he wanted to talk, he should call me.

Mom was staying for a week, and the next day she had us set up for an appointment at one of the most exclusive spas in Austin. I had no desire to go, especially after what had happened the last time. But she’d paid in advance, and I didn’t want to cause any more drama then I already had.

Bart drove us to the spa, explaining that he was going to play golf with a few business friends. Our day was one of the nicest and most serene I’d ever spent with my mother. She kept the conversation light and didn’t bring up Mac once. I went home with a sassy new hairstyle, amazing nails, and with every inch of my body worked over by a masseuse.

I should have been happy, relaxed, and mellow. Instead, as soon as I was alone in my apartment, I realized I needed to go for a run. Putting on my workout clothes, I grabbed my mace keychain and headed out of the door. I’d stopped doing evening runs after Molly got kidnapped. Mostly because of Mac’s overbearing paranoia. His opinion didn’t apply tonight, so I hit the pavement.

When I got back to the apartment, I half expected Mac to be there. I’d left my phone behind and I was disappointed to see that I had no messages. I went to bed that night alone, feeling more hurt than I’d ever been. The next day, I took Bart and mom sightseeing. I waited all day for Mac to call and by the time the sun went down, I was still waiting. My worry had given way to anger. I apparently wasn’t important enough to even rate a text back.

I sat up on the roof deck that night, drinking Shiner and thinking about my predicament. Mac had never gone this long without calling. The fact that he hadn’t even texted me was troubling. As angry as I was at being ignored, I wondered if something was really wrong. After my third beer, I decided to bite the bullet and call Mason. Unlike Mac’s number, his phone rang. Mason picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, Kelly.” There was something off about his tone. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Mason. I was wondering if everything was okay with Mac. I’ve tried to call him, and his phone goes right to voicemail. I’m worried something might have happened.”

“What? No, he should be fine. I just saw him earlier today. He brought M.J. over to play with the kids.” The matter of fact way he said it hit me like a punch to the stomach.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” I hung up the phone and tossed it across the roof. It fell onto the padded bench before bouncing onto the deck. I put my hand over my mouth and the other cradled my stomach. Sobs built up from the very core of my being, and tears streamed down my cheeks. Sinking to my knees, I rode the wave of embarrassment and pain.

He’s fine. He just decided not to call you. What more do you need to know? First, he starts blowing you off. He goes off and spends time doing who knows what. Or who. Now he is refusing to take your calls or even text you back. Meanwhile, he’s living his life. Obviously, he is done with you and doesn’t know how to tell you.

When the grief had subsided, I retrieved my phone and went to bed. The beer was enough to help me to get a few hours of sleep. The next day, we had lunch plans with Mom and Bart. Or I guess I should say I did. I’d finished all the beer in my fridge the night before, so I was grateful that I didn’t have to be anywhere until noon. After a shower long enough to drain the hot water heater entirely, I felt almost human. As I was pulling out of my parking space, I saw Mac’s truck in the parking lot of Good Wood. Not only had he not called or texted me back, he had come to work and didn’t even stop up to see me.

After lunch, I decided I didn’t want to go back to the apartment. I needed to think, without Mac showing up to sweet talk me. I had Bart drive out to Lake Travis, telling them that the view of the lake from The Oasis was breathtaking at sunset. The two of them carried on a conversation without me while they drove along, giving me the space and quiet I needed to think.

Mac had a way about him. He was able to convince me that all was right in the world, even when it so obviously wasn’t. Looking back on our fights, arguments and disagreements I saw all of it in a very different light. The relationship I had with Mac had never gone beyond a certain level. We would hit on a topic he didn’t want to discuss and he would suddenly become distant. There were so many instances in which he had changed or cancelled plans at the last minute, that I was pathetic for not walking away months ago.

By the time we got back to my place, I’d come to a realization. Mac had never fully let me into his life. He had kept me at arms’ length, never telling me anything beyond the surface. In retrospect, I felt foolish for having missed the signs that seemed so obvious now. I decided it was time to go find Mac and hash this out, one way or another. My dinner at The Oasis had included quite a few drinks, so I called a cab to take me to his house. When we pulled up, I saw him on the front walk. He wasn’t alone. Patricia had her arms around his neck and was kissing him. I blinked my eyes in disbelief, then told the cabbie to take me back home.

Numb inside, I watched the view with dry eyes the entire return trip. After I paid the cab driver, I climbed the stairs to my apartment. Walking straight into the bedroom, I filled a suitcase with what I needed. I sent my dad a quick text before turning my phone off. After a last look around, I went downstairs and loaded my car. By then, I was stone cold sober.

I COULDN’T WIPE the shit-eating-grin off my face as I tied my necktie. Flashes of Kelly securing me to the bedpost made it my new prized possession. As I was getting ready to walk out of the door, my cell phone rang. The ringtone was the theme song from a video game that MJ loved. I’d made it his ring tone, so I’d never miss his call. Scooping up the phone, I answered it while I locked the front door of the house.

“Hey, little man. What’s up?”

“Hey, Pop. Are you out with Kelly?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I’m meeting her at the restaurant. I can call you when I see her if you want to say ‘hi,’”

“Nah. I just didn’t want to interrupt.” I felt a swell of pride at his show of manners.

“Even if you were interrupting, you know I always have time to talk to you. So what’s going on?” I felt a pang of foreboding, but I shook it off.

“I was wondering if you could drop off a loaf of bread? We ran out.” I was irritated at Patty not being able to keep her cupboards stocked, but quashed it quickly. If my boy wanted a loaf of bread, then a loaf of bread he would have.

“Sure thing, M.J. I have a few minutes before I’m supposed to be at dinner. You want anything else while I’m stopping?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a bacon cheeseburger!” he stated excitedly. I laughed at how much he sounded like me.

“That’s my boy. I’ll grab you some grub and a loaf of bread as long as you don’t think your mom will mind me spoiling your dinner.”

“Nah, she won’t mind.”

I hung up and jumped in the truck. I tossed a text off to Casino El Camino for M.J.’s burger so it would be ready when I got there. I grabbed a loaf of bread at the nearest convenience store, then swung by and picked up Junior’s food. As I drove across town toward Patty’s, I found myself thinking about Kelly.

Things had been going so well lately that I’d decided to pop the question. I even went so far as to enlist Granny’s assistance, since she was the only woman in the family capable of keeping a secret, to pick out a ring. Then I asked her father’s permission. I cornered him one afternoon after all the rest of the staff had left the shop. Francis surprised me by shutting me down flat.

“It’s not really my place to give a blessing, Mac. But if you want my opinion, you hold off on that ring for a while. She isn’t ready.” He didn’t look happy with his proclamation, and I felt my stomach drop.

“What do you mean?” I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “You don’t think she’s interested?”

Francis sighed and put his hand on my shoulder. “Mac, you know that I don’t really have the right to speak for her. I can only advise you as a friend. You know as well as I do that Kelly has never been in a long-term relationship. Not until you. My best suggestion would be to broach the subject of marriage gently. Don’t try to spring it on her all at once. You might not like how that turns out.”

His wisdom had blown a hole right through the side of my fantasy of sweeping Kelly off of her feet. You might even say he swept me right back onto mine. When I stopped to think about it, I could see a lot of bad outcomes to surprising Kelly with a ring. I confided in Mason and Joe about the conversation over drinks a few nights later, and they both said that if they were in my shoes, they’d defer to Francis’s judgment. So I’d put the ring away like a good little soldier. I locked it in my firesafe and asked Kelly to go to Galveston Island with us instead.

All thoughts of Kelly and my trashed proposal fled me when I pulled into Patty’s driveway with M.J.’s delivery, and I didn’t see her car. I wondered if it was in the shop again. Normally, she would have been bugging me to have one of my gear-head friends look at it for a discounted price. I usually ended up paying. I knocked, and my boy opened the door and bounded into my arms.

“Dad! Did you bring the burger?” he asked. I laughed, pulling the bag out from behind my back.

“Here you go, buddy. I also got you your bread.” I followed him into the house. “Patty! Where are you?” M.J. ran ahead of me into the kitchen. I trailed along after him, trying not to let my horror show at how filthy the house was.

The smell hit me from the kitchen before anything else. Old garbage, rotten food and the stink of rancid grease. As I entered the room, I saw M.J. sitting at the small kitchen table, the only part of the room that was truly clean. Standing in the doorway, I surveyed the room in disbelief. Then I listened. Other than the sound of MJ opening the paper bag at the table, the house was quiet. By this time, I’d have expected Patty to be in my face, screaming about my being in the house without her permission.

“M.J.,” I started, keeping my voice casual. “Where’s your mom?”

MJ looked up at me with a mouthful of food like a deer in headlights. He took a minute and swallowed, but I gave him a smile and he relaxed.

“Umm…well, she went out for a little bit.” My heart rate doubled as I fought against a rising tide of rage.

“Oh, yeah? When did she leave?”

He looked down at the table before he answered.

“Yesterday, before lunch.”

I felt like I was going to throw up, but somehow I managed to keep a smile on my face and nod gently. I pulled up a chair and sat at the table with my ravenous son.

“Wow. She must trust you a lot to let you hang out by yourself.” I sounded chipper, which is what I was going for. “Does she do that a lot?”

MJ nodded, seemingly happy that he wasn’t in trouble.

“Yep. She said I have to keep it a secret, or else I’ll get in trouble. It used to be only once in a while…when she needed to go out. But more when she started going out to meet Uncle Bill. Then she’d tell me to put myself to bed. It was scary at first, but not anymore.”

I smiled at him, ruffling his hair with my hand. In my mind’s eye I imagined dropping Patty into the top of an active volcano. “Of course she trusts you, buddy. You’re a great kid. Eat up. I need to go back out to the truck for a minute. Okay?”

He nodded, more than happy to dig into the food in the bag. As I was walking back out of the room, I spotted two empty bread bags in the trash with an empty bottle of ketchup. I realized why he’d called me. My boy liked to make himself ketchup sandwiches for a snack; it was disgusting. From the looks of the trash, it seemed like that was all he had been eating for the last few days.

Once I was outside, I let loose with a whole load of quiet cursing. My stomach roiled, and I ended up puking into the bushes. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I felt a surge of homicidal rage. At that moment, had she been in front of me, Patty would’ve been a dead woman. I walked around the yard, trying to get my head around what’d just happened.

She left him alone. Again, and again and again. He’s not even ten years old. Anything could have happened to him. The house could’ve burned down. Someone could have kidnapped him. He could have fallen, hurt himself, or gotten himself killed. Anything could have happened! Anything!

I realized that this was all my fault. It’d been stupid to think that she was going to change. She’d played me, just like she had time and time again. Letting me see what she wanted me to see so that she could keep M.J. Not because she loved him, but so she could get a check from me. It was obvious that she didn’t care. What kind of mother leaves her kid alone like this? And with nothing to eat, no less.

Pulling out my phone, I called Kelly. I stumbled through telling her I couldn’t make it to meet her mother. I knew she was pissed when I hung up, but I wasn’t equipped to explain. I’d planned to call her back her later, when I had a grasp on the situation. With her mom in town, the last thing she needed was my ex-wife’s bullshit embarrassing or upsetting her. Flipping through my contacts, I called my lawyer.

“Colt? It’s Mac Hildebrandt.”

“Mac? What’s going on?” It took me a few minutes to get the words out. I was glad that Colt already knew most of what was going on. Having to explain what I’d just found was hard enough.

“She just…left him here—” my voice choked off.

“Okay, Mac,” Colt spoke calmly, “here’s what I want you to do. Our first step is to protect you and your son. You need to disappear until I can get in front of a judge.”

What do you want me to do?” It felt good to have someone giving me direction. I needed a way out of the dark place in which I’d found myself.

“Based on our past experience with your ex? I like to call this the nuclear option. We take you, and M.J., out of the equation. If she can’t reach you, then you have no legal responsibility to return the boy. Not that I think any judge would question what you are doing to keep your son safe. You are well within your legal rights as his father to take him out of that dangerous environment. But Patty does like to create drama, and the last thing either you need is more of that. So I want you to take some cash out, as much as you can get. Then you need to pull the battery and SIM card out of your phone. Find a decent hotel that’ll take cash. No credit cards, no debit card. They’re too easy to track.”

“My phone? Credit cards? What the hell are you talking about?” I was struggling to keep up, and his directions had me confused.

“Listen Mac,” he said quietly. “This is a gray area that we’re operating in. A skilled investigator could track you by using your phone or cards. All of this is just a precaution. I am going to get the right people over to her house before she has a chance to clean it all up. After that, a judge should have no problem granting you temporary sole- custody. There will be a full hearing after that, but I’m confident based on what you’ve told me that I can get you permanent custody. In the meantime, you need to lay low. Your ex has an established history of muddying the waters with her antics. It’ll be best if you and your son are out of contact until I get this handled.”

“Okay,” I said. “How long do you think this will take?”

“A day. Maybe two. Once you’re settled, give me a call so I know where to reach you. The judge will want to talk to MJ. Stay out of sight and let me do what I do.”

I hoped that he could get in front of a judge before Patty could come up with a way to turn the situation around. I told myself that as long as Junior was with me, we were good. Possession was 9/10ths of the law, after all.

I thought about taking M.J. to Kelly’s place, and then immediately discarded the idea. If she did look for us, Patty was sure to drive by Good Wood, and she’d spot my truck. Mason’s and Mom’s were out of the question as well. In the end, I took Colt’s advice and took him to a hotel. M.J. thought it was some great adventure. We went swimming, ordered a pizza, and watched an action movie. He fell asleep next to me on the bed, and for a while, I watched him sleeping like I had when he was a baby. Filled with regret and doubt, I finally drifted off.

The next day was insane. My lawyer was a bad ass shark with a howitzer. Before Patty had time to get home, Colt had Child Protective Services at her house. This time case workers interviewed the neighbors, checked the house thoroughly, and got a real view of what Patty was like.

Colt got us into an emergency meeting with a judge that afternoon. The judge asked Junior a lot of questions, and once the kid started talking, even I was appalled at how bad things were. Worse, was how cheerfully oblivious M.J. was to the abnormality of it all. When the judge sent M.J. out of the room with the bailiff afterwards, she grilled me. How had things gotten so bad? Where was I when my son needed me? I did my best to explain, and I think she saw how sincerely shaken I was. Colt jumped in and told the judge about our previous tussles with Patty and how she’d pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. I didn’t hear half of what Colt said. It was heartbreaking to think of how badly I had failed my boy, and the realization shook me to my core. Even sadder was that while I was being awarded temporary full custody of my kid, no one had even been able to find his mother.

That night, I took M.J. back to our hotel. Colt had suggested we lay low until the authorities found Patty. To avoid any “unpleasantness,” is how he put it. M.J. was overjoyed to swim in the pool again and to order Chinese food. As I watched him scarf down his weight in Sesame Chicken, I thought about all the times I’d picked him up and he’d claimed to be starving. How I’d always kid him about having a hollow leg. Horrified, I had to go into the bathroom so he wouldn’t see me break down. I wanted so badly to call Kelly, to hear her gentle voice tell me that everything would be alright. I decided to let it lie. I assumed she was probably furious at me, and at that point, I just didn’t have the energy yet to explain myself.

Colt left a message with the front desk for me to call him the next morning. When I reached him, he told me that Patty had been calling my cell phone non-stop for twelve hours. The police had finally tracked her down at her house. She’d finally called them. She’d been desperately trying to figure out where M.J. was. I almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

He played me a few of her voicemails so that I would have an idea of how the calls had progressed.

Message 1: Mac! Where the fuck are you? Call me!

Message 2: When are you bringing M.J. home? What the hell is this? Where did you take my son you bastard? I’m calling the cops if you don’t call me back right fucking now.

Message 3: Fuck you, Mac! Fuck you! Do you think that you’re going to get out of paying me child support? You dead beat fuck! You better call me!

I told him that pretty much summed Patty up, and he promised to make sure the judge heard them as soon as possible. I asked if it was really necessary to play the voicemails in court, and Colt assured me that the recordings were just overkill.

After I finished with him, I took M.J. out for chicken and waffles. We swung by Kelly’s afterward, but she wasn’t home. I asked Francis about it, and he said she was off with her mom. I needed to talk to her, but I didn’t feel up to meeting her mom, and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin their day with the kind of stories I had to tell. Instead, I loaded M.J. into the car and took him over to Mason’s house. He needed some normal activity, and I needed to go see my lawyer. The kid didn’t need to be a part of what was coming next.

It took the better part of the day, but I finally ended up in front of the judge with Patty sitting behind the other table. I have to say, she pulled out all of the stops. She was smart enough to know threats and pleading weren’t going to work. So she threw herself on the altar of addiction.

“I know that I’ve made some horrible mistakes, Your Honor. I accept responsibility for my actions.” I almost laughed at that, Patty had never taken responsibility for anything in her life. But she could really put on a show. Even I wanted to believe her, but all I had to do was picture that filthy house and M.J. sleeping there alone to squash the last bit of sympathy I had for her.

“Ms. Dickson,” the judge said, “your lawyer has requested that the judgement in this case be deferred pending your completion of a substance abuse program.”

Patty nodded. “Yes, Your Honor. I feel that if I can get a chance to be clean, I can be the mother that my son deserves.”

The judge shuffled through some papers in front of her and shook his head. “Yes, well, according to your record, you’ve been ‘in the lifestyle,’ as it were, for a great many years. More than your son has been alive, it seems. While I commend your desire to commit to rehab, I must say that it will have absolutely no bearing on this case. Should you prove to this court that you are truly reformed one day, there may still be a chance that you might be allowed court-supervised visits with your son. If the child wants to see you.”

That was the point where Patty realized that her ploy wasn’t going to work and when she displayed her poor impulse control issues. I was glad that M.J. wasn’t there to see it, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about Patty causing me trouble. The judge found her in contempt of court and sentenced her to thirty days. Then she added mandatory rehab. The kind of place where, as she put it, “they don’t let you out until you’re clean.”

I picked M.J. up and took him back to my place. After a big dinner and some video games, we crashed for the night. The second my SIM card was back in my phone, I thought about calling Kelly. I decided not to half-ass it. She deserved an in- person and face-to-face explanation, not some late night call that she might mistake for me looking to get laid.

Early the next morning, I took MJ to my mom’s house and headed over to the shop. I knew that Nick might revolt if I didn’t keep the crew in line, and the paperwork was backing up. I’d just finished the last of the bureaucratic bullshit, when I saw Kelly’s car pulling away from the building. I went out after her, but she didn’t seem to see me. I pulled out my cell phone to call her when it rang in my hand.

“Hey! I was just calling you.”

“So you’ve heard?” The voice on the other end wasn’t Kelly’s. It was Colt’s.

“Heard what?” The urgent way he said it set my teeth on edge.

“Your ex-wife got away from the guards when she was being transported. She conned them into letting her go to the bathroom and she managed to get out of the window. They have no idea where she is. Is your son with you?”

“No. He’s with my mom.”

“Okay, just to be safe I’m going to request a patrol car to go sit outside your mom’s house.”

At least they didn’t consider Patty enough of a threat to put her picture out on TV. Junior had gotten into a couple of scraps about Molly since going back to school, and he didn’t need to have his mom all over the evening news, too. Feeling a little paranoid, I picked M.J. up from Mom’s house and had him come help me in the shop. The kid loves working with me and we had a pretty awesome day. I even let him boss around the interns for a while. He was a lot nicer to them than I’d ever been, so they didn’t have a problem with Mini Me taking over.

Late that night, just after I turned off the television to go to bed, my security system went off. I’d recently upgraded to get all the bells and whistles. Between Molly’s abduction, and the crazy that is my ex, I figured it would be a good idea. Turns out I was right. Motion sensors were the first to alarm, turning on the flood lights in my front yard. Then my phone started buzzing, alerting me to someone out on the porch. I checked the camera through the app on my phone and saw an unsurprising sight.

Patty.

Pulling my boots back on, I grabbed a flashlight. I dialed my phone and got my lawyer’s service. After leaving him a message, I went out into the front hall. Patty stood outside the screen door, tears welling in her eyes.

“Mac?” Her voice quivered. “Can we talk for a second?”

I folded my arms. “Patty, the cops are looking for you.”

Anger flared on her haggard face. “You called them? You want to put your kid’s mom in the slammer?”

I surveyed her thoughtfully, truly seeing her for the first time in a very long time.

How did I ever love you? Was I out of my mind? How could I not see this manipulative behavior for what it was? Oh yeah, thinking with the dick. Screws you every time. Once someone like her loses her looks, it’s a long way down a very steep hill. Going nowhere with nothing to offer the world.

“No, I haven’t called them. But I did advise my lawyer that you’re here, and he likely will. I should call them. I don’t want to get into trouble for harboring a fugitive.” The angry look left her face, and the tears started again.

Her dragonlady fingernails were on the screen. “Mac, open the door. I can’t talk to you through a screen like this.”

I started to swing the door shut. “I have nothing to say to you, Patty. Go turn yourself in.”

She began crying, heavy tears interspersed with sobs. Turning away from the door, she slowly walked down the sidewalk. Pulling out my phone, I saw a message from Colt.

Colt: Cops are on the way. Stay inside.

When I looked back up from my phone, Patty was standing in the road. A car passing nearly ran her down, and he or she blared the horn as the car swerved around her. Without thinking, I opened the door and went out after her. I didn’t care if she got run down. Truth be told, I couldn’t care less what happened to her. I just didn’t want M.J. to have to see his mom splattered on the street. Pulling this stunt in front of my house was just another example of her manipulative bullshit. Instead of making me angry, it just made me feel a headache-inducing exhaustion.

“Patty! Get off the road.” She ignored me, standing there like an idiot on the dark asphalt. “Patty, for the love of our son, get your ass out of the road.”

As I reached the mid-point between us, she turned to look at me. I was nearly to her when she took a step toward me. Then she ran to me, mascara streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, Mac. How am I supposed to live without your help?” she asked, squinting at me through her running mascara. I saw a flicker of an idea behind her eyes. “You still think I’m pretty, don’t you? If you keep paying me, I can take care of M.J. and I can take care of you, too. I used to make you feel really good, remember?”

The thought sickened me, and the suggestion made it clear exactly how far down the rabbit hole she’d gone. Before I could stop her, she locked her arms around my neck and mashed her horrid smelling lips to my face.

I struggled to get her off of me, but she clung to my neck with insane strength. Headlights flashed and I prayed that the police were on the scene. My lips were pressed tightly together and I was in real danger of suffocating if I couldn’t get her loose. Another car whizzed by before I could get her off of me, shoving her hard enough that she stumbled. When the cops finally did show up, they nearly had to pull their guns to get her cuffed and in the car. I was just glad that MJ didn’t wake up for any of it.

The next day, I took Junior back to work with me and left him with Nick while I went upstairs to talk to Kelly. She didn’t answer the door, which was odd because it was well after she’d normally return from her run. Disappointed, I went back downstairs and found a somber-looking Francis waiting for me in my office. M.J. was busy inspecting some of the guys’ projects, and Francis closed the door behind us.

“Mac, we need to talk.” The look on his face overwhelmed me with dread.

“What is it?” I was sure I didn’t want him to answer me.

“It’s about Kelly. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but she says she’s moving.”

AFTER LEAVING MY apartment with everything I could stuff into my car, I drove around aimlessly for over an hour. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I had only one place to go. Heading across town, I left my car with the valet outside The Driskill. I used one of the house phones to call upstairs, and my mother answered on the first ring.

When I arrived at their suite, my mother was waiting in the open doorway. She’d removed her make up for the evening, and the unflattering light made me realize how well her efforts hid her age. I paused, suddenly nervous about bothering them. It wasn’t too late to get a hotel room and take the night to get my head together. My hesitation must have shown, because she stepped out into the hallway and guided me inside. I ended up on the couch with my mother next to me. Without waiting for an explanation, Bart took one look at my face and mixed some strong cocktails from their mini-bar.

“What’s going on, Honey?” Mom demanded.

I could smell the liquor wafting out of the drink Bart handed me. Shooting him a grateful smile, I took a long pull from the glass. The powerful spirits burned their way down my throat. I didn’t know where to begin, so I took a moment to gather my thoughts.

“I…I need to know if it would be okay for me to come to Denver to stay with you for a while.” The look of shock that crossed her face was quickly replaced by pleasure.

“Of course you can,” my mother insisted. “Kelly, you know you always have a place with me. But why? What’s happened?”

“I don’t think I can stay in Austin.” I could feel my throat narrowing, but I gripped the glass and fought the tears. “He works with dad…I live right upstairs. My God, I even work at Junior’s school. There’s no way to avoid him. It’s better to just get out of town.”

“But, honey,” Mom started cautiously, “you told me that you loved it here.”

Bart came and handed mom her signature martini and leaned across to pat my hand.

“I’m going to leave you two to talk,” He kissed my mother’s cheek before disappearing into the adjoining bedroom. I’d always appreciated Bart’s intuition. He knew when to make himself scarce.

“He’s back with his ex.” I managed to keep it together until the last word of the sentence. Admitting this abhorrent truth out loud broke some sort of dam inside me, and the tears began to flow. Within seconds, I was a blubbering mass, clinging to my mother like a toddler. She stroked my hair, holding me to her while I finally released my bottled up pain.

Say what you want about avoidance, but it had always successfully allowed me to avoid heartbreak like a boss. Now, in the wake of Mac Hildebrandt, I felt like my chest was made of glass and someone had struck me with a sledgehammer.

I wasn’t very coherent, but even so, Mom took my emotional outburst like a champ. She didn’t even mention that my snot and tears had likely ruined her lovely silk blouse. Several minutes later, my tears were under control, but what followed was one prolonged and vicious outburst.

“He hung up on me! And I texted him after that. I’m pathetic. Who doesn’t even return a goddamn text?”

Several drinks later, my lids were heavy, and my mother tucked me in on their couch. Alone in their sitting room, I had a modicum of privacy to cry myself to sleep.

I woke up the following afternoon feeling like I’d been beaten down in an alleyway. My entire body ached, and I had trouble forcing myself into the sitting position. Worse, it seemed I’d slipped through a portal into another universe…a place where my all-knowing mother was suddenly unsure. Instead of helping me plan my egress from Austin, she began questioning my desire to leave.

“All I’m saying, Raquel, is that this behavior is not the behavior of the girl I raised. Would I love to have you come to Denver? Of course. But this…this seems like running away from your problems. Shouldn’t you call Malcolm and try and clear the air before you go?”

I whipped my head in her direction and nearly spilled my coffee. “What the hell would I call him for? I saw him kiss his ex-wife. I need to have my fucking eyes bleached.”

She pursed her lips at my use of profanity, but didn’t correct me.

“I realize that looks bad. I just think you should make sure you have all of the information before you make a major life decision like leaving town.” Suspicion flooded through me at her strange behavior.

“What the hell, Mom? You’ve been bugging me for years to move back to Colorado. Now you’re waxing philosophical and embracing my independence? Where’s my selfish mother who railed at me for living a half a world away?”

Instantly regretting the volume of my tirade, I cradled my throbbing temple. My mother quietly left the room, returning with some pain killers and a tall glass of water.

“You know that I want you to come to Denver.” Her placating tone was unfamiliar, but no less comforting. “I just don’t want you to look back and regret your decision. You have a contract to think about, and I know how much you love this school.”

Swallowing the pills, I drank most of the water before sinking back into the couch.

It had been an idiotic mistake, drinking as much as I had the night before. Now my mind, heart, and body were in agonizing sync. Mom picked up a book from the table and began to read, leaving me to close my eyes and rest. After a few minutes, the pounding in my head abated enough for me to peek over at my mother. She was fiddling with her cell phone, and I decided I must be in an alternate universe. My mom had never been a big cell phone user, but then again, she’d just discovered the joy of the smartphone.

I went to soak in the shower, as if I had some hope of steaming away the ache I felt all the way down in my soul. I didn’t want to leave my job. I had a home at Porter, and felt appreciated for the first time in a very long time.

After toweling off, I dressed in slow motion, wishing I could just go home and crawl into my bed. Remembering that my sheets would smell like Mac’s musk, my daydream vanished in a puff of smoke.

I was in the act of stuffing my face with pancakes a half an hour later when there was a knock on the door. My mother rose to get it. I thought maybe Bart had forgotten his room key, and you could have knocked me over with a feather when I looked up to see her standing in front of me with my father. Francis wore a guilty, hangdog expression on his face, but when I met his eyes, his features smoothed.

“Dad? What the hell are you doing here?” My tone was more incredulous than angry. If you had told me a week before that my mother and father would be standing side by side, I would have laughed you out of the room.

“Hey, darlin’. Your mom called the shop earlier and she and I got to talking.” The glare I shot my mother should have melted steel, but she simply shrugged.

“I was going to give that Malcolm fellow a piece of my mind. Your father answered instead.” Her tone was less than pleased.

“I normally handle the phones.” He shrugged.

“Yes,” my mother said in a tone cold enough to freeze water. “It’s oh so unusual for a salesman to answer phones.” Francis glanced at her then looked down at the ground. Mom continued as if he hadn’t interrupted her. “After I spoke with your father, he pointed out some inconsistencies with your version of events. He went to find this Malcolm fellow to get to the bottom of things. He called me back, and we agreed that it would be best to try and figure all this out together.”

I looked back and forth between them, attempting to wrap my dehydrated brain around what I was hearing. It was obvious that they hadn’t buried the hatchet. If anything, my mother looked like she wanted to bury a hatchet in Francis’s head. But they were speaking, working together, trying to parent me.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” My profanity dam had apparently shattered along with the rest of me, and I suddenly found my colorful vernacular the only refuge from the insanity that had become my life. “How dare the two of you conspire against me! You wait until I’m a grown woman to put on your parent pants? Where the hell was this unity when I needed it?”

“Kelly,” Mom gasped.

“Honey,” Francis began, his cautionary undertone instantly pissing me off. He was already siding with Mom against me.

“Shut up, both of you, before my brain explodes. Do you know how many times I fantasized about this? My parents coming together because they were more concerned about me than about themselves? I don’t need this now! I’m not thirteen anymore.”

“Kelly,” Dad soothed. He perched on the couch beside me and put a hand on my arm. “We know we made mistakes. But we ended up with a lot of wisdom because of it. Is it so wrong that we’re trying to keep you from making an equally bad error in judgment?”

My mother moved to sit on the nearby chair, letting my father take center stage in front of me. “I know you’re mad, but that’s the worst time to make big decisions about your life. Take some time, get your head on straight, and get all of the information. Once you calm down and look at things objectively, you’ll be able to make a choice that you can live with.”

My father was a born salesman. Everything about his delivery encouraged me to listen and to realize that he had my best interests at heart. I knew he wanted me to stay in Austin and be a part of his daily life. For a moment, I wavered. I actually considered going along with whatever cockamamie scheme they’d come up with. I pictured Mac, his easy grin and those amazing arms. I could smell him…taste him as if it had been moments, rather than days, since we’d been together. Then the image of Patricia plastered all over him filled my mind, and pain shot though me, nearly doubling me over. I took a few breaths to steady myself. As the pain receded, it was replaced by white hot anger.

“I asked you for something simple, Dad. Can you pack up my apartment for me or not?” The venomous way the words came out wiped the placating look from my father’s face, and he looked as worn as I’d ever seen him.

“Of course I can. Whatever you need, I can do. But—” I interrupted him with a shake of my head.

“No. I appreciate what you are trying to do.” I turned and included my mother in my gaze. “Both of you…really. But I can’t go back to that apartment. I just…can’t.” The tears started streaming down my cheeks and I hated the fact that I couldn’t stop them. They blurred my vision enough that I almost missed the look that passed between my parents.

“What?” I asked angrily. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well,” Francis responded in a guilty tone of voice. “Mac knows you’re here and he is waiting down in the lobby to talk to you.”

I felt like the blood had drained from my body.

“H…how could you do this to me?” Panic blossomed in my chest. Jumping to my feet, I rushed to the door, taking a few seconds to pull on my running shoes. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, causing my heart to thud dangerously in my chest.

“Raquel!” my mother snapped from behind me, her voice firm and authoritative.

“Honey…” was all Francis managed before I was out of the door.

I had a sickening premonition about running into Mac in the elevator, so I took the stairs. As I exited into the lobby, I caught sight of him sitting in a wingback chair by the front desk. Our eyes met, and as always, his baby blues ensnared me. He rose to his feet, and the action broke me free from the spell. I bolted for the door, and a half second later, I heard him call my name.

Once outside, I burst into a full sprint. I had no destination in mind; I just wanted away from the searing pain that seeing Mac caused me. As I neared the end of the block, I glanced over my shoulder. Even from a half a block away, I could see Mac’s face contorted in disbelief. I’d easily smoked him, but I kept running to be sure I’d lost him. Doubling back to the hotel, I asked the valet to bring my car around to the other side of the building.

I drove to nearby Zilker Park and spent the next couple of hours sobbing in the front seat of my car. I had nowhere to go, and everyone I knew also knew Mac. When I finally calmed down, I pulled out my phone and turned it on. Ignoring the multiple texts and voicemails, I called Jerry.

“Hey Kel, what’s shaking?” Her cheery honeymoon-laced voice made me envious.

“Jerry, hey…I hate to bother you…”

“What’s wrong?” she said in a rush, her tone all business.

“Mac and I broke up.” I hated the bitter taste of this truth, but I pushed past it. “It’s a long story. I need somewhere to stay tonight. Can I come over?”

“Yes. Get over here.” Her commanding quality was that of a general formulating a battle plan. “And for God’s sake, either drive slowly, or call a cab!”

Jerry’s is where I should have gone in the first place. With Chuck away at a conference in New England, she was gracious enough to let me stay in her guest room. Their new house was amazing, and the room I was staying in had a huge en suite bathroom with a deep tub that I spent hours soaking in. When I resurfaced, Jerry told me she’d spoken to her husband, and he had insisted that I stay as long as I liked.

As generous as she was, Jerry was very “tough love” about the Mac situation. After a day of arguing, binge watching Gilmore Girls, and consuming tons of Amy’s Ice Cream, she helped me figure out what my next move was.

“I wish I could just take off, get away for a few months. I love Porter Elementary, and I love Austin. It’s just that everywhere I go and every single stinking thing I do here reminds me of him.” I admitted, toying with a loose thread on the throw I was cuddled beneath.

“There is no way in hell you’re leaving Austin.” Her green eyes flashed as she pointed her Milano cookie at me aggressively. “So you and Mac broke up. Big deal. He stepped out on you with a skank and that’s unforgivable. You don’t need any part of him or that Maury Povich bullshit. Go get yourself tested and move on. This town is full of eligible men.”

That night, I took one of Jerry’s sleeping pills and dreamed I was playing cowboys with M.J. His infectious laughter was remarkably vivid. I turned and saw that Mac was kicked back watching us from the tail-gait of his truck. I woke with a smile on my face, but as my eyes adjusted to my unfamiliar surroundings, the blade of reality twisted inside me. Rolling over, I stared at the freshly painted wall, and I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. My time with Mac and M.J. had been the dream, and loneliness had always been the eventual outcome.

I changed my phone number the following morning, and I sent a text to Mom and Dad immediately. I instructed them that if anyone else ended up with my number, I’d change it again and neither of them would get it. They both responded that they understood.

Mom was already back in Denver, and I cried when I realized I’d blown my chance to properly see them off. I texted her that she didn’t deserve such a selfish kid, and I promised to fly up to see her and Bart over fall break. She called me immediately.

“Don’t be sorry, Raquel. We enjoyed our visit. I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving. Bart and I want to come down to see you again once the dust from all of this settles.”

“You don’t have to—” I started, but she cut me off.

“We want to. I love you, sweetheart. Please be good to yourself. I hate that you’re going through this. Things will work out the way they were meant to.”

“I love you too, Mom,” I said past the lump in my throat. “Tell Bart thanks for being so patient.”

Twenty minutes later, I called Dad. I was nervous. I needed him to bring me a couple of things from the apartment, but I was afraid he’d tell Mac he was meeting me. I couldn’t live without the stuff once I was back at school, and I had no idea how long it would take to find a new place. Dad answered on the first ring and agreed to meet me at a nearby cafe.

I watched my dad from my parking spot across the street to be sure he hadn’t brought Mac along. He hadn’t. Feeling melodramatic, I rolled my eyes and entered the restaurant. I slid into the booth, and the scrutiny in his dark eyes was unmistakable as he peered at me from over his menu.

“How are you holding up?” he asked cautiously, passing my bag of things across the table to me. When I shrugged and sipped my water silently, he dropped the menu and folded his hands. “I had a talk with Joe today. He says to take your time finding someplace else and to call him if you change your mind.”

I nodded. Joe’s understanding made me a little misty. I considered all of the Hildebrandts (Joe included) my friends. Losing them left another gaping hole in my heart, and just like that, I was mad at Mac all over again.

“Thank you,” I managed. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I know you were trying to help. I just wasn’t ready to see him. I don’t think I ever will be.”

He seemed to evaluate the statement, and it appeared to frustrate him.

“You know I admire your strength, Darlin’, but your self-righteousness isn’t one of your best qualities. You might want to reserve judgment until you have all of the facts.”

I whipped my head in his direction, stunned by his abrasive tone.

“I know what I saw. I can’t unsee it.” I sounded so much like my mother that I wanted to wash my own mouth out with soap.

He shook his head, his lips a thin pale line. “You’re only hurting yourself, Kelly.”

“That’s exactly the problem. I’m the only one who’s hurting. And it’s so unfair because I did nothing but love those two. I deserve someone who respects me. I warrant a damn phone call, Dad. It would be nice to be missed.” Tossing my menu aside, I took the bag of things he’d brought me and left without another word. Thirty minutes later, guilt set in and I called him.

“Hello, darlin’.” The love I heard proved that no matter how much of a jerk I was, he wouldn’t allow it to cause a schism between us.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” When I exhaled, it seemed like I felt it all the way to my bones. “I just miss him.”

“I know, Kelly,” he responded. I heard a racket and deep voices in the background. He covered the receiver, and I heard his muffled speech. Then he was back. “I can’t talk. I’m at the shop. Call me later, alright?”

“Okay,” I replied, and as I was hanging up, I was sure I heard Mac’s voice in the background. It pierced my armor, and I spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, too depressed to do anything at all.

School was starting in three weeks, and I was really looking forward to it. I had found out ‘unofficially’ from Principle Higgins that she had found the media mole. Paula had been foolish enough to give interviews to anyone that would listen to her. One of the people she talked to was a free speech blogger who believed in the free flow of information. That included listing the full name of their sources in everything they reported. With the blogger willing to corroborate that the interview had taken place, Higgins had been able to happily terminate Paula for cause.

The thought of being back at school without that horrid woman lurking in the office was one of the few positive things in my life. I took comfort in the structured days ahead. Though I knew it would be painful to see Mac Junior again, getting back into my work routine would help keep my mind busy, and I was in desperate need of that distraction.

A few days later, Jerry convinced me to hoist up the long skirts of my dignity and trudge forward on the path to normalcy. We’d been on a series of long bike rides to make up for pigging out, and after relentless peer pressuring, I spent two hundred dollars to join Capers and Connections. It was the non-dating service Molly had told me about that arranged for groups of singles to go on different outings.

“Just go a few times,” Jerry insisted, and the girls nodded in agreement. “If you hate it, fine. But it’ll get you back the game.”

The first two trips were awkward minglings. The first was a wine tasting at a nearby vineyard with a bunch of young professionals who spent the entire night name- dropping politicians and other people I’d never heard of. The second sounded like more fun. It was a murder mystery dinner, complete with costumes at a local bed and breakfast. Half of the crowd drank way too much, and I complained to the organizers when some masked guy felt me up. I was ready to abandon my deposit and resign myself to life as an old maid. Jerry refused to let me sit around and mope, and she dragged me to get my first (and last) Brazilian.

“Have I told you lately that I hate you?” I asked her, collapsing into her recliner and resisting the urge to put ice on my aching v.

“What? You’re all sooth and kissable now,” she laughed. “You’ll thank me later.”

“No one’s going to be down there for a very long time.” I sighed with a wistful smile, and before I could stop myself, Mac was on my mind. My grin evaporated instantly. Jerry noticed immediately and hurled a throw pillow at my head.

“The best fix for falling off a horse is to saddle right back up. So get out there and ride cowgirl! Ride!” The obscene gyrations that accompanied her advice sent me into hysterical laughter. Against my better judgement, I ended up at the next Capers and Connections event, which was go-cart racing at a mini-midway. Molly’s employee, Isaac was hanging out with the event organizer when I walked in. He spotted me and called out in his flamboyant voice.

“Hey, gurrrl!”

I had a surprisingly good time, racing recklessly around the course against a couple of guys from UT Austin’s athletics faculty. The assembled group was much more laid back, and a few of us went out for wings and a pint afterwards. With Isaac there, I felt a lot less pressured, and when a particularly cute banker urged me to try fried pickles, I accepted. Mac had been after me to try them for a year, but I’d always been too worried about the calories. Since I no longer cared if my ass got fat, I decided there was no time like the present to start making new Texas memories. For a few hours, I almost felt normal again. Isaac made me swear I’d come to the next event, which they announced was zip lining at Lake Travis. Everyone at the bar was planning to go, and I was surprised to find that I was actually looking forward to it.

Lake Travis was quite a jaunt from downtown, but our bus-ride out to the location was fun. All three of the guys who’d been flirting with me at the go-cart event were on the bus, and they sat in the back near us.

“Which one do you want? I’ll take your leftovers,” Isaac whispered and we both giggled. Coolers of beer and bottled water were plentiful, and by the time we disembarked, most of us weren’t feeling any pain. I wasn’t sure if I was going to muster the courage to zip line down, but I really wanted to say I’d done it.

As we rode the boat across the beautiful lake to the hiking trail, two Australian guys entertained us with the story of how they’d just moved down from the Midwest in order to escape winter. It was hard to understand half of what they were saying, and at times, I was sure they were making words up on the spot. Snow had gotten the better of them, and they eloquently explained that they’d both nearly frozen their balls off keeping their driveway clear. One of them kept eyeing Isaac, and I strongly suspected they’d hook up before the night was through.

Enjoying another cold one, I watched several couples take the plunge before gearing up. From what I could tell, they all made it to the bottom in one piece. Between the alcohol and the flirtatious ribbing from my fellow travelers, I soon found myself being buckled into a zip line harness, wondering what I had gotten myself into.

“Just remember how much you love me, Kelly,” Isaac called to me. I frowned at him as I fastened my helmet, completely confused about his random statement. He eyed the other zip line platform nervously, and I turned to see what he was looking at.

I’d been so focused on trying not to freak out and make an ass out of myself, that I’d ignored the commotion at the platform a few feet away. Just as my handler was about to release me, I glanced over and saw Mac buckling himself into the other harness. The determined set of his jaw as he met my gaze made my breath catch.

“What the f—” I began, but my handler interrupted me.

“Ready, set, go!” He gave me a shove and I found myself hurtling down the hill, clinging desperately to the nylon harness. My heart hammered with such ferocity that I was convinced it would take flight from my chest. With growing dread, I tracked Mac in my peripheral vision. He was rocketing down the hillside much faster than I was, and I realized that at the rate he was traveling, he’d be waiting for me at the bottom. We’d have to hike to the next zip together, so unless I wanted to hike back to the beach, I was stuck facing him, if that was what he had in mind.

The entire trip down probably took less than a minute, but our entire relationship flashed before my eyes in that short span of time. I’m not sure if it was the adrenaline or the alcohol, but I was a live wire by the time I reached the bottom. As I reached the platform, I saw Mac was already free from his harness. Approaching me before I’d come to a complete stop, he grabbed hold of my trolley and reached for me as if he planned to free me from my restraint.

“Sir!” one of the zip-line attendants said, moving toward Mac as if to intervene.

“I got this, boy.” Mac turned toward him. I wasn’t able to see his face, but the attendants both took a couple of steps back.

“No!” I tried to wiggle out of his grasp. His eyes swept me, and I watched helplessly as the ghost of a devilish grin played on his familiar lips. I knew exactly what was going through his dirty mind.

“All clear?” The question sounded from the nearby attendant’s walkie-talkie. He raised the walkie to his lips and pressed the button.

“Hold please. We have a situation,” I heard him say and I fought with my restraint, trying desperately to free myself so I could get back on my feet. As it was, Mac was holding my trolley, and I could feel the tips of my toes scrape the platform, but only if I pointed them like a prima ballerina.

“Calm down, Chief. This is no situation.” Mac’s voice sounded gruff and commanding. “I just need a few words with the lady.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” I snapped through gritted teeth. I worked the straps of my harness hopelessly. I hadn’t been paying enough attention when the college boy hooked me in, and three beers on an empty stomach were getting the better of my coordination. Or maybe it was just Mac. Something about him flustered me, and that started long before our current state of affairs. Regardless, he turned in response to my words and got in my face until I had little choice but to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t say we were going to talk. I’m gonna talk. You’re gonna listen.”

“Can you get me down, please?!” I called to the two attendants lurking nearby.

“I got this,” Mac called to them, without taking his eyes off of me.

“Let go,” I managed calmly, even though a storm raged inside me. I wanted to kick him where it would hurt the most, but he was too close for me to get the backswing to do the amount of damage I felt he deserved.

“Sure thing.” He twisted his hands and released the catch, steadying me so I wouldn’t fall. It happened so quickly that I found myself standing free before my mind had a chance to catch up. He towered over me, and his sudden closeness was painfully familiar. “Now, all I’m asking is that you listen.”

His voice was level, and when I stole a glance up at him, he looked so sincere that I almost caved. Then I remembered how my chest felt when he hung up on me and the horrid display I’d witnessed on his front lawn. Making sure I had all of my equipment, I turned on my heel and walked towards the next zip station.

“Sugar…” Mac’s exasperation was obvious to everyone within earshot.

“Don’t call me that,” I shot back. “You no longer get to call me that. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said walking after me. “I don’t remember having a conversation about breaking up.”

“Pardon me. Did I violate some relationship etiquette when I didn’t inform you that we are no longer an item?”

He nodded. “You sure as hell did.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. We agreed we wouldn’t see other people, but that didn’t seem to matter to you. I guess you can consider yourself notified. Now leave me the hell alone.” I heard his footsteps falter for a second, then come after me with an even louder crunch.

“What the h…would you stop walking away for five seconds? I just want to explain—”

I interrupted him, refusing to even glance back. “News flash, Mac. I don’t give a damn. You should have texted me back, or taken any of my phone calls if you felt like communicating. It’s too late now. We’re done.”

“Now just a damned minute!” The rage in his voice brought me around to face him. He was ten feet away from me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Behind him, I saw three of the men from the zip line heading our way. I didn’t give good odds to any of them if they were planning to restrain Mac. “You will listen—”

“Or what? You’ll make me?” It was a cheap shot, using a pressure point I knew would hurt him. I saw the wounded look flash across his face as he got what I was intimating.

“Fine. You want us to be done? We’re done. But you are going to shut your mouth and let me say my piece.” His eyes dared me to say something. The men behind him looked to me for a cue, and with a huff, I waved them off. Mac turned in their direction, and they tried to look casual as they scurried back along the path. Wheeling back to me, he growled. “Patty abandoned MJ.”

I’m not sure what I’d expected, but that wasn’t it. I felt like the ground had just dropped out from under me, and I dropped my folded arms to my sides.

“What?” I gasped. “Is he okay?”

“Damn right, he is.” Mac puffed up, folding his arms across his chest. “Now that I have full custody.”

“I…I don’t understand,” I stammered, trying to force my brain to assimilate the new information.

“Junior called me when I was heading out to meet you at the restaurant. He asked me to bring him something to eat. She’d left him there alone since the day before. He was so proud of himself for being a big boy.” Mac’s voice cracked, and he paused, raking a frustrated hand through his thick hair. I felt an ache in my heart as I imagined how much it must have upset him for M.J. to have to fend for himself.

“The place was a pigsty and, after talking to M.J., it was obvious that this wasn’t an isolated incident. I called my lawyer and did what I had to do so that it would never happen again. My lawyer advised me to take the SIM card out of my phone. So I never got your calls or saw your texts.”

I searched his face, and he seemed so sincere. Over his shoulder, I could see the rest of the zip-liners hiking in our direction. The three guys who I considered potential dating material were on the front line, and they were moving toward us in a determined fashion. I turned away and hurried in the direction of the next run. Imagining M.J. in the scenario Mac presented to me had me close to tears, but I fought hard against them. M.J. had Mac to look out for him. I only had me.

Mac easily caught up with me, and I physically relaxed. My body’s response to his closeness was automatic, and the fact that he could still make me feel that way was troubling. All the vile thoughts I’d had when he hadn’t taken my calls or texted me back haunted me, but then the vision of his ex with her hands all over him stiffened my back once more.

“So this was all because of Patty?” I fought to control my breathing, but now I was spoiling for a fight more than ever.

“Yes.” He exhaled, as if he’d expending all of the energy he’d had reserved for me.

“If that’s the case, why were you making out with her on your front lawn?” He looked at me in such utter confusion that it sapped the thrill of my victory. I shoved him, nearly knocking him down. “Explain that away, you smooth-talking bastard.”

“You saw that?” He sounded surprised, but not guilty. That just made me even more furious, and I picked up my pace.

“I was coming to give you a chance to explain. Even though you were ignoring me, I still trailed after you like some pathetic little puppy. I hope that makes you feel like a big man, Mac. And what do I get for my loyalty? I get to watch you make out with her, of all fucking people!”

He raced around in front of me, physically blocking me. I had no choice but to stop in my tracks.

“Get out of my way. I can’t even look at you,” I choked out the words, humiliated at the hot tears spilling down my cheeks.

“You didn’t try to help me?” he demanded, and his reaction confused me so badly that I actually took a step back.

“H…help you…” I stammered, looking up at his earnest face.

“That crazy bitch attacked me. She threatened to kill herself just to get me outside. Then she tried to bribe me with sex, and I couldn’t get her off of me. The cops almost lit her ass up just to get her in cuffs!”

My vision swam, and I saw the scene again in my mind’s eye. It’d been too painful to think about, but looking back, Mac might have been pushing away from her. If he wanted to be with her, he was sure going to a lot of trouble to lie about it. I was trembling and I stumbled past him, moving down the path in the direction of our next platform.

“I thought…you two were getting back together,” I muttered.

He scoffed from somewhere behind me. “You must not think very much of me.”

“I thought you didn’t want me…” I was having trouble keeping up my pace, I was shaking so badly. I slowed, and I felt his arms come around me. God help me, my knees nearly failed me just feeling his touch again. The top of my head rested perfectly under his chin, and when he gently guided me to turn in his direction, I was powerless to resist, even if I had wanted to.

“Sugar, there ain’t nobody else in the world I want but you.” He cradled my face in his large, calloused hands. “I love you, Kelly.”

His words cut through my pain, lifting me out of my misery. With hesitation, I met his eyes. I feared seeing mixed messages in them, but my love for him drove me to search him for reassurance. His unwavering gaze had me reconsidering everything.

“I’ve been afraid to talk to you about this. I put off telling you the depth of Patty’s problems. I told myself it wasn’t your baggage to carry, but honestly, I was scared you’d walk away. You’d see what M.J. and I had to contend with and decide that we weren’t worth the hassle.”

I could see all of it in his pale eyes. The vulnerability, the exhaustion, the desperation for me to understand and believe him. The weight of Mac’s burden was soul-crushing, and I covered his hand with mine.

“After I saw Junior living off ketchup and bragging about how he tucked himself in at night, I needed to tell you in person. It’s so…horrifying, I had to come to grips with it before I talked about it. I couldn’t…I could barely explain it to the lawyer, Sugar. It’s embarrassing that she played me like she did for as long as she did and that I fucking allowed it to happen.”

“Oh, Mac,” I whispered. Real tears stood in his eyes, and my arms came up protectively around his neck. I was vaguely aware of the rest of the zip-liners passing us on the trail, but I never took my eyes off of his.

His jaw twitched with tension, and his eyes shot upward toward the cloudless sky. “I failed him, Kelly. I don’t deserve him either. Maybe you should have turned me in for neglect after all.”

“Shhhhh…” I urged, stroking his hair. The ache in my chest made it hard to catch my breath.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore when you heard—”

“Shut up, Mac.” I stopped his hurtful train of thought in its tracks with a deep and needed kiss. I poured everything into it, my pain, my relief, the gut wrenching love for him that refused to be suppressed. In seconds, Mac responded with equal fervor, backing me into the nearest tree. He held me in place by my hair as he tasted me, his tongue exploring my mouth with all the confidence of a conquistador. He knew exactly how I liked to be kissed, and as he pressed his body into mine, I moaned helplessly against his mouth. I’m not sure how long we were at it, but when we finally came up for air, I was overheated and in need of some serious shade.

Gripping his face aggressively I pressed my forehead to his. “I need to be the first person you talk to, Mac. About everything. From now going forward, alright?”

“So does this mean we’re not done?” He winced, and I released his face from my death-grip. He rubbed his jaw as if I’d been abusing him.

“Yes. I’m giving you…like your second second chance…or something.” I replied which an overly dramatic sigh.

“Are you sure?” His playful smile crinkled his eyes in that way that always left me breathless. “Isaac says you’re very popular with these Capers and Connections douchebags. Your future husband could be here today.”

“Are you gonna stand there and make fun of me, or are you gonna take me home?” Unwilling to wait for his next snarky remark, I snagged his hand, and pulled him in the direction we needed to go.

“I don’t know…” I whipped my head in his direction as he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Are you gonna run away from me every time you’re mad at me? Because I gotta tell ya, Sugar. You’re fast as hell, and I’m gettin’ too old for that shit.”

“IT’S TOO COLD, Mac. Can’t we just go home?” Kelly’s teeth chattered, and I flipped the seat warmer to high. She had just a hint of a whine in her voice when she continued. “I’m too tired to go on a hike. I just ran a marathon!”

The frustrated look she shot me almost made me rethink my plan. It was late February, but it had warmed up a little over the past week, and after Thanksgiving in Denver, I had a new perspective on what cold actually meant. Determination won out; at the end of the day, this needed to be done, and it needed to be done before I lost my nerve. Fixing her with a smart-assed grin, I tossed a barb in her direction that I knew would get her in the right frame of mind.

“Wuss.”

The anger that flashed across her pretty face was quickly replaced by amusement.

“Fine.” She pulled her winter cap further down over her ears, as if she were the Southerner, and not the other way around. “But you owe me a full body massage.”

“You say that like it’s an unpleasant proposition,” I drawled coolly, but inside I was hoping she’d be too excited to sleep when I was through doing what I was about to do.

“Ugh! I still haven’t wrapped the twins’ birthday presents for tomorrow night! And we bought them so much stuff! Oh, shit! I forgot to pick up a plant for Molly’s office at the restaurant. You’re going to have to help me.”

“I’m your Huckleberry.” I condescended, and she gave me a tolerant sideways glance. Quoting Tombstone was somehow always acceptable as far as Kelly was concerned. Maybe it was some cowboy fetish. I briefly considered borrowing Mason’s old hat, now that he was rocking the Bruce Willis look.

“If I’m dead asleep at seven thirty, you have nobody to blame but yourself.” She decreed, in her sanctimonious schoolmarm voice. I decided she needed horn-rimmed glasses and lined stockings for her birthday, which wasn’t far off.

I felt a sly grin spread across my face at the image. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing to wake you up.”

She shook her head at me, and a sarcastic smile transformed her. “Do ya now?”

“Umm hmm. I’ve got moves you ain’t seen yet, Sugar. A few tricks up the old sleeve.”

“Yeah, well…I’m pretty sure that’s not up your sleeve.” Her eyes traveled in the direction of my belt buckle. I cocked an eyebrow, sliding my hand up the denim of her inner thigh. She sighed regretfully. “I guess I don’t need to be awake for that.”

“It’s a lot more fun when you are,” I winked, and she laughed bawdily and rolled her eyes.

Minutes later, we reached our destination, and the parking lot was vacant. Most Austinites were hunkered down indoors, and I’d hoped the cold climate would give us the privacy I needed. I grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat, and taking Kelly by the hand, I led her down the path toward the stairs. I paused nervously at the bottom of the stairs when I noticed how Kelly favored her left leg.

“Ya alright?” I asked, and she nodded. She’d just finished her first honest-to-God marathon earlier that day, and I couldn’t have been prouder. I felt guilty as hell for my off-the-cuff remarks that got her into it. When she’d logged in to register for the race, I’d teased her about doing “only a half marathon.” It was a stupid joke, of course, but Little Miss Alpha had glared at me over her shoulder, turned back to the computer, and clicked on “full marathon entry” instead. Then she pressed the enter key.

My entire family had been at the finish line (Francis and Beverly were, too), but no one had cheered louder for her than M.J. had. I could tell by her face that Kelly was disappointed with her time, but she seemed even more disappointed when I sent the boy off to spend the night at Mason’s. Kelly had said the night before that she wanted us all to chill on the couch and gorge ourselves on take-out. I told her I’d already planned a celebratory picnic for just the two of us, which seemed to irritate her.

Now with her slight limp, I was especially glad that Mt. Bonnell wasn’t much of a climb. Even so, I was aware there was a chance I might have to carry Kelly back down. A marathon is serious business, and I’d asked Nick to be on standby just in case. He was still at the shop with the two former interns who were now permanent employees, The Normal Kid and oddly enough, Sonic the Hedgehog, who’d somehow transformed, Optimus Prime-style, into a decent little worker bee.

Nick had moved into Kelly’s old apartment above the shop, and The Normal Kid lived in Francis’s old place. Joe and I had a new understanding. Going forward, we were only taking on two interns at a time. Our three permanent guys still needed a lot of mentoring, and interns were more work than they were help most of the time. Joe and I both had families to think about, and the pace we’d been working at wasn’t sustainable.

The truth was, I wasn’t concerned about work in the slightest. I was concerned about my girl and my hare-brained plan to drag her up a giant flight of stairs just hours after she’d run twenty-six miles. I’d carry her back down if I had to. I’d done it before, and she was just as light now as she’d been back then.

Once we got to the top of the overlook, I spread a blanket out on the half-wall that served as our table, put the basket aside, and helped her to sit. The sigh of satisfaction she gave when she was finally able to stop moving was amusing as hell. She leaned back against the stone pillar behind her and closed her eyes.

“I’m never going to be able to get back up. You should have just taken me home, hon. Now, you’re going to have to carry me back to the truck like a princess.” Her smug chin-lift made me grin as I unpacked the basket. My mouth watered immediately. Molly had whipped us up some of her famous fried chicken, spiced potato wedges, the unhealthiest corn a person could ever hope to eat, and two bottles of home-brewed sweet tea. Say what you like about Short Shit, but she knows her way around the stove top. As the smell of Molly’s cooking hit her, Kelly shuddered and moaned in a way normally reserved for me in the bedroom. “Oh, that smells so good.”

Handing her a plate, I let her eat in peace, not saying a word when she grabbed a second helping of chicken. It had been a struggle, but she seemed over some of the food issues she’d had when we met. A few still lingered; she refused all desserts and fast food, and she always tracked what she ate versus how much she exercised…but she no longer carried protein bars to family gatherings and had stopped ordering a side salad every time we went out to eat.

I was the one struggling with my appetite at that moment. My nerves were getting the better of me, and I forced myself to choke down just enough food so that Kelly wouldn’t get suspicious. I needn’t have bothered putting on a show. Kelly had been training for a long time, and Molly’s celebratory feast had her rapt attention.

Once our meal was over, I packed everything away, stalling for time as Kelly put her gloves on and admired the incredible sunset. She swung her legs over and dropped off the other side of the short stone wall, inching away in the direction of the cliff face. Though I’d wisely chosen to bring her over to the viewing platform this time around and we had an iron fence between us and the drop off, I hurriedly tossed the basket aside and rushed to catch up to her. I wrapped my arms around her from behind just as she came to a stop near the fence. I’d love to say I was trying to keep her warm, but considering her ability to find danger everywhere, that’d be inaccurate. Kelly melted back into my embrace with a contented purr and her fingers stroked my arm.

“So what’s next, Champ? A mud run? Triathlon?” I whispered into her hair, breathing in her sweet scent, all buttery and vanilla. She smelled like egg nog tonight, and I briefly wondered why I hadn’t opted for a picnic in bed.

“Actually, I thought I’d give my body a rest for a while,” she sighed. All at once, I was glad she was facing the sunset. The relief I felt was surely transparent on my face. She pushed herself too hard. I found her routines both fascinating and a little worrisome. Brushing the pom-pom of her winter hat aside, I kissed the cool skin of her temple. I moved so that we were standing side by side. The wind gusted, and Kelly wrapped her arms around herself protectively. I knew my time was limited and that sunset would be gone in minutes, plunging us into darkness. Fueled by the ticking clock, I took her hand in mine.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” I asked. Covering her face with her gloved hand, she collapsed against my chest in giggles. Looking up at me, she grinned, her cheeks red with obvious embarrassment.

“You mean the day I tried to fall off a cliff to get away from you? Good thing you’re the persistent type or I might have gone over the edge.” The memory wasn’t nearly as funny to me, and squeezing her tightly, I took a deep breath.

“I was fixin’ to ask you to move in with us that day,” I confessed. She pulled away suddenly, gaping up at me in surprise.

“Wha…uh…really?” Her expression slowly transformed, and she studied me carefully, as if trying to assess whether I was pulling her leg.

“Really.” I took both of her hands in mine. “I already knew you were the one. I’m pretty sure I was already in love with you the first time…”

I trailed off, afraid of how she’d interpret what I was about to say.

Her wry smile was unexpected as she attempted to finish my thought, something she was frighteningly good at these days. “When we had crazy sex on my couch?”

It was quite the mental picture she was painting, but I shook my head. There was no humor in my response. “The first night you read Peter Pan to M.J.”

Kelly’s smile melted slowly, her stare boring into mine.

“I just…knew. It was…kinda weird. A little scary, actually. Like I’d always known, but seeing the two of you sitting there on his bed with that book between you, I finally…remembered? I’m sure it sounds totally nuts. But when you left a few days later, I knew you weren’t where I was. You weren’t ready.”

She shook her head, and her cheeks flushed. “No, I knew it, too. But felt too good. I liked it way too much. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” I replied, understanding her response more than I could convey.

“The past few months…” I started, and I had to stop speaking for fear that my voice might crack with emotion. Time had slipped by so quickly now that we were back together. We’d all gone to Kelly’s mom’s in Denver for the week of fall break. Considering everything that had gone down when they’d been in Austin, my reception was a surprisingly warm one. Junior loved the snow, and I had to practically drag him back in from the cold more than once. Kelly’s mom spoiled him as if she were legitimately his grandma, and Kelly seemed pleased but leery.

Before heading off to bed the last night of our visit, Candice demanded Junior make a Christmas wish list for her. Junior had no problem whatsoever complying, and Kelly and I snuggled by the fire, answering M.J.’s insane questions like “how do you spell Porsche?” Kelly saw an opportunity to pester and harass me about what I wanted for Christmas. I’d had a couple of tall glasses of Bart’s twenty-year-old scotch, and it made me too loose-lipped.

“I want you to move in with us. It’s time.” I blurted it out, right in front of Bart and M.J. I’m a spectacular jackass sometimes.

To my surprise, Kelly didn’t flinch. She exhaled and fluttered her dark lashes in that charming way she isn’t even aware of. “Well, alright then. Consider it done.”

She’d been with us ever since.

Reflecting back on that pivotal night and all of the precious ones that had come and gone since, it took a minute for me to get my bearings. What I was trying to say here and now needed to be far more carefully planned than my stupid ‘move in with us’ had been. Kelly waited patiently, and looking at her in the setting sun with the faint lights of downtown twinkling in the distance left me tongue-tied. Her brows narrowed as she realized how badly I was struggling, and when she reached out to stroke my bearded cheek, I fought my natural inclination to crack a joke.

“The past few months have been my personal version of heaven, Sugar. You make me so happy. Every day. M.J. too. You…you being with us makes our house a home.”

Her eyes shone with emotion, and her lips curled gently toward the darkening sky above us. “You’re so sweet, Mac.”

She moved in close as if she was going to kiss me, but I took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. Her eyes widened with astonishment and a trace of hurt, but I’d come this far, and there was no turning back now. “It’s hard to remember what my life was like before you. That’s not exactly right…it’s painful to remember. I remember all too well what it was like. I don’t want to go back there.”

“Mac—” The pretty eyelash flutter was in full force, but I had to get it all out.

“I love you, Raquel. I’m yours now. I’d do anything for you. That was already clear to me when I carried you down this hill. I didn’t want anyone else to take care of you. It was already my job.” I put my hand in my pocket and felt the velvet box.

“B…but I—” Kelly started, and I trampled over her words once more.

“I’ve waited as long as I can to ask you this, and I hope like hell it doesn’t make you want to run from me, but I’m done marking time and pretending I’m alright with it.” I dropped to one knee, and Kelly’s eyes widened just a hair. Considering they were already about the size of my mother’s best china, it was a fairly remarkable sight to see. “You’ll never have to doubt me, Kelly. Never. I’ve got you. I got this.”

I pulled out the box that I’d purchased so long ago. I popped it open and saw the sun’s last rays reflected in the two carat solitaire Granny informed me was likely to get Kelly mugged. Kelly’s eyes were fixated on mine, and I’m not sure she even saw it. “I’ve spoken to your mother, and she claims she’s on board. I asked for your father’s blessing way back before we went to Galveston, and he told me to put the ring away for a while. But your opinion, Sugar, is the only one I’m interested in. Kelly…what I’m trying to…what I’m asking is…would you…would you do me the great honor of being my wife?”

She paused, and I didn’t trust the strange expression on her delicate features. When she started laughing, it was a happy sound, but so unexpected that I blanched. She saw this, and she took a step in my direction, her hands cupping my face. “I was just making sure it was finally my turn to talk. Yes, Malcolm, now that I can get a word in edgewise. I would. I can’t think of anything I want more than to marry you.”

I was on my feet, and she was in my arms; and by the time we came up for air, there was no trace of the sun. I reached into the box for the ring, and it wasn’t there.

“Umm, babe?” I said.

“Yeah?” She sounded breathless, and in spite of the delicate subject I was about to bring up, I was very turned on.

“You didn’t happen to snag the ring out of the box while we were making out?”

“What?” She sounded as serious as a ticking time bomb, and it was a cold shower on all of my eroticism.

I pulled out my keys and turned on the tiny flashlight I had on my keyring. I handed it to Kelly, and we both couched down to look around. To add insult to injury, we smacked our heads together with a resounding “thunk.”

“Owww,” I deadpanned, palming my forehead.

“Ugh. My legs hate me so much right now that I didn’t even feel that.” Kelly grumbled.

“Shine the light over here.” I said, and when the beam of light landed on me, I gently took the ring from its resting place on the top of my boot. I blew out a giant breath. I’d spent three month’s salary on the thing and gone to three different stores before finding one that spoke to me. The last thing I’d wanted to do was spend half the night looking for it. Especially after the kissing. I had way better things to do with my time.

“Mac.” Her voice broke in the darkness as she said my name. She had the tiny beam of light trained on the square-cut diamond. “It’s beautiful.”

I found her hand in the darkness, and gently placed the engagement ring in her palm for a closer look. I watched her admire it by the light of the flashlight.

“It’s…huge!” Kelly gasped.

“That’s what she said,” I quipped. She snorted and swatted at me with the tiny flashlight. It connected with my padded jacket.

I plucked the ring out of her grasp. “I think I’m supposed to put this thing on your finger to make it official.”

“You think?” she asked, turning the flashlight upward so she looked like she was trying to tell me a scary story. “You’ve done this before!”

“Uh, yeah. That one wasn’t exactly planned. Those rings came from a 24-hour pawn shop down the street from Harrah’s.”

She snorted, and I carefully slipped the ring on her slender finger. Thankfully, it seemed to fit. I entwined my fingers with hers.

“It was made for you,” I said, giving myself a mental pat on the back.

“It’s too much.” Her grave tone wiped the smile off my face.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I replied, but when I stroked her cheek in the blackness, it was wet to the touch. “I want you to listen to me. This is important. Are you listening?”

“Mmm hmm.” She sniffed.

“Nothin’s too much for you, Sugar. Nothin’. Do you understand me?”

I could only see her silhouette, but her sniffling was undeniable. She finally sounded like the ball of emotions I’d come to expect after a guy pops the question.

“I love you. God help me.” She added the last bit with a sigh, as if she were resigning herself to the unfortunate fact of being saddled with my bad jokes for the rest of time.

“I love you, too.” I put my arm around her and sweeping up the basket in my other hand, I guided her toward our certain death on the stone staircase that would take us back to the truck. “Now let’s get the hell out of here. That body of yours isn’t gonna rub itself.”

Robin Harper of Wicked by Design: thank you for being eternally fabulous and flexible. You never fail to amaze us. We’re grateful that you designed a cover we could build a novel around. You’re the best.

Julie from J.T. Formatting: Not sure what we did to get so lucky, but we’re not going to jinx it. You always give the interior look something special and you’re an angel to work with.

Carmen Comeaux, Editor: Thanks for making us look better than we are. Sorry we can’t take all of your advice. Maybe one day we’ll write characters who actually speak proper English!

Jay McAtee, Lisa Fox, Jerry Mogler, Annette Chesmore, Tamron Davis: Our dear real life friends who not only read this document while it was in the developmental stages, but allowed us to use their names in the Carved Hearts Series. Hope you’re cool with your fifteen minutes of immortality.

Laura Wilson, Sally Bouley, Brett Lewis, and Stacey Grice: for being our tried and true betas for the entire 4 books process. We owe you so much for reading and re-reading and READING AGAIN!!! We’ll settle up once we hit the big time. Seriously though, thank you for believing in what we do and always keeping us grounded. Y’all are simply the best and you must know you’ll be our go-tos for as long as we keep doing what we do.

Michelle Cable, Chelle Northcutt, Tesrin Afzal, Linda Cotter: Our new friends we met along the way as the Carved Hearts books introduced us. We couldn’t be happier that Joe and Molly brought us all together. It means the world to us that y’all appreciate what we do. Love you, ladies. Thank you for all the reading, promoting, and cheerleading. You kept us motivated to tell great stories on the darkest of days.

A special thanks to Lisa Figliolino and Crystal Blais: These two lovely Pace readers happen to be teachers. We appreciate all the advice and thoughtful consideration regarding Kelly’s job at the elementary school. Thank you for taking the time to assist us in adding some authenticity to our tale.

and to Colt: What’s your wife think now? :)

L.G. Pace III has spent several decades pouring creative energy into other things besides writing. He began his current journey by telling his two daughters bedtime stories about a magical realm and a hero named Terel. Though that story is still sitting unfinished in the electronic universe he has managed to bring two other stories out of the dark maelstrom of his mind for others to enjoy.

He dwells in the great state of Texas with his wife, novelist Michelle Pace and their children.

OTHER WORKS BY L.G.PACE III

Vigilance

The Lost One

Oculus (with J.L. Mac)

CONNECT WITH L.G. PACE III AT:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LGPaceIII

Twitter: @PACEWRITE

Michelle Pace lives in north Texas with her husband, Les, who is also a novelist. She is the mother of two lovely daughters, Holly and Bridgette, and one uber-charismatic son, Kai. A former singer and actress, Michelle has always enjoyed entertaining people and is excited to continue to do so as a writer.

OTHER WORKS BY MICHELLE PACE

Crazy Love

Something’s Come Up (with Andrea Randall)

Fury (with Tammy Coons)

Rage (with Tammy Coons)

The Perpetual Quest for the Perfect Life (with Tammy Coons)

Kiss Kiss

CONNECT WITH MICHELLE PACE AT:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MichelleKisnerPace

Twitter: @MichelleKPace

Webpage: http://www.michellepaceauthor.com

OTHER WORKS BY MICHELLE & L.G. PACE III

Good Wood (a Carved Hearts novel, Book One)

Mollywood (a Carved Hearts Novel, Book Two)

Heartwood (a Carved Hearts Nobel, Book Three)