Wood U (Carved Hearts #4)

by L. G. Pace III

  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 st
owed 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.