A Weaver Holiday Homecoming

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “Just tell me you’re interested enough to think about it,” Rebecca urged.

  “Think about what?” Ryan strolled into the kitchen, with a stack of pizza boxes that he dumped on the counter.

  “About Mallory working at the hospital now that Dr. Yarnell has returned.”

  Her breath stalled in her chest when he looked her way. “Then Chloe wouldn’t have to shuttle back and forth.”

  Right. He was right. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t held out some wish that he’d notice it meant she would be around all the time, too.

  She hadn’t confused sex with love. But that worked two ways. He wasn’t confused, either.

  “I have to consider my grandmother, too,” Mallory prevaricated. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Her grandmother had left behind her circle of friends in New York. And had done it believing that it was temporary.

  But the real truth was that, despite her reasoning, her “take what she could get for now” justifications, she knew she would eventually want more from Ryan.

  Eventually?

  She wanted more right now.

  The small pager inside her pocket vibrated, and she yanked it out, absurdly grateful for the distraction as she read the message. “I’ve got a delivery.”

  “I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Ryan said.

  Mallory caught the quickly hidden disappointment in Rebecca’s eyes. “I wish I’d brought my own car.” She glanced at Ryan, only to look away just as quickly. “You could have stayed.”

  “She could just drive your truck, Ryan,” Rebecca suggested. “Then you can stay. And if it gets late, your father and I can drive all of you back.”

  It made perfect sense. And despite her own longing where Ryan was concerned, she recognized the struggle that worked behind his eyes. Part of him wanted to leave. Part wanted to stay.

  But when he pulled his keys out of his pocket and held them toward her, she knew which part had won.

  At least there was that.

  “Wonderful.” Rebecca squeezed Mallory’s arm. “And think about it,” she urged before leaving the kitchen.

  Mallory managed a smile as Ryan dropped his keys in her palm. But he caught her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  He looked skeptical. But he didn’t argue the point. “Truck’s a clutch,” he warned instead. “You know how to drive one?”

  She nodded and felt an agony of emotion when he used her hand to reel her closer. Just as helpless as a fish, she went, and didn’t do anything but kiss him back when his lips found hers.

  When he raised his head again, she quickly lifted the keys that she was clutching in her hand. “I’d better get moving or Peggy Duke’s baby is going to arrive without me.” It was a gross exaggeration; Peggy’s first baby would likely take hours yet. “It’s probably one of the last calls I’ll have,” she added, because she couldn’t seem to help herself. “Once Dan has a chance to get his calls routed directly to him, again.”

  She hurried into the living room to say her goodbyes and kiss Chloe, who had no complaints this time whatsoever about Mallory’s emergency. Before she could do something really embarrassing, like beg Ryan to feel what he obviously didn’t, she grabbed her coat and told him to stay inside where it was warm before hurrying down the wide, shallow steps that led from the imposing door to a wide circular driveway.

  He followed, anyway. No coat. No hat. Just tucking his fingers into the front pockets of his blue jeans while the breeze rippled his silver-tipped hair over his forehead and his dark blue shirt against his chest.

  “Mallory,” he said, when she climbed up behind the wheel.

  She managed to get the key in the ignition without dropping it first. “I said I knew how to drive a clutch, and I do, but it’s been a while.” She knew she was babbling but couldn’t help that, either. She made a point of looking down at the pedals and studying the stick. “Don’t laugh if I end up popping the clutch.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  No. He was watching her with eyes that were a shade darker than his navy shirt.

  And if she didn’t leave, she was going to lose it. So she grabbed the door handle and, after a moment that stretched her nerves into a fine wire, he moved out of the way and she closed it.

  She was immediately surrounded by his scent. Warmth. Leather. Him. It was heady and comforting and sharply painful all at once.

  She sucked in air that didn’t help that situation at all and turned the key, carefully sketching a casual little wave before putting the truck into gear. She didn’t stall it out, nor did she run into any of the other vehicles clustered around the sweeping driveway, but it was a wonder, when her hands were shaking and her vision was blurring.

  She drove away from him, from the warmth of the house and those people inside it, and wondered if it felt this terrible now, how would she ever survive leaving for good?

  “You going to stand out here waiting until she comes back again?”

  Ryan looked around at his father, who was standing on the porch, smart enough to pull on a coat. “Maybe.” The cold feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t coming from the breeze slicing through his shirt. “At least she has to come back,” he added more to himself.

  “That sounds suspiciously like you’re worried she might not.” Sawyer’s voice floated down to him.

  He wasn’t up to a verbal chess match with his father. He went up the steps. “I am. Got a cigarette?”

  “Nope.” Sawyer’s lips twisted wryly. “Your mother’s getting adamant about ’em. Think having her own grandkid now is making her more opinionated than ever.”

  Ryan’s focus strayed back to the road leading away from the house. There wasn’t even any dust that remained from her departure.

  “Seems like a nice girl,” Sawyer said.

  “Chloe?”

  “Her, too.” His father tilted his head in the direction of the empty, empty road. “But I was talking about your doc.”

  “She’s not my anything.” Except the mother of his daughter. His lover, except making love once—twice—didn’t exactly qualify them for that term. And she was probably the key to his own sanity.

  “Do you want her to be?”

  His jaw tightened. He didn’t answer. And after a moment, his dad sighed. “Talked to Cole for a few minutes last night. Tells me he wants you back pretty badly.”

  That tack wasn’t any more comfortable for Ryan than the subject of Mallory. “Never known him to be all that talkative.”

  Sawyer’s lips twisted. “He and I go back a long way. He goes back a long way with a lot of us. Whether he ever told you or not, he was just as worried as we were when you went missing. Still won’t say much about what your last assignment was before you did, though.”

  “Probably doesn’t want to tell you what a bloody mess I made of it.” Ryan decided it wasn’t all that cold out, after all. Not in comparison to his frozen guts. “And now he figures there’s something I can do to fix it?” He shook his head and swore under his breath. “I can’t go back, Dad.” The admission burned like raw, exposed nerves. “I know I should, but—”

  “Who says?” Sawyer clapped his hand over Ryan’s shoulder. He was still strong enough, man enough, to make his younger, taller son face him.

  “Nobody in this family has ever quit anything,” Ryan said roughly. “Except me.”

  “They’ve never quit family,” Sawyer countered. His brows pulled together. “Not in the end. But there’ve been times when we’ve all had to learn to walk away. To let something go. There’s no shame in knowing when it’s time to do that, son. Sometimes that’s the bravest act of all.”

  Ryan’s head felt as if it was in a vise. “There wasn’t any honor in what I did. A girl died because of me. A girl nobody even remembers. And more of ’em—” his voice cracked “—more are probably wishing they were dead rather than living through whatever life they’ve been sold into.”

  “Honor,” Sawyer murmured,
“is an interesting thing. Can get tarnished as hell. But it still shines up when you put in the effort. Sort of like families shine up when you work at it. You want to find the honor, Ryan, then make that girl’s death count for something. But do it for yourself. Not because you think it’s what you’ve got to do for me. Or for your mother. Or Cole and Hollins-Winword. We already know what you’re made of.” His hand went to the back of Ryan’s neck and squeezed and his voice went gruff. “I know. And there’s never been a day since I’ve known you that I haven’t been proud you’re my son.” Then his jaw worked and his hand went to Ryan’s head, giving him a little shove. “But if you’re going to be stupid where your doc is concerned, then I might have to sic my doc on you.”

  “How the hell am I being stupid?” He waved his arm. “She says she’s in love with me, but she refuses to take anything from me! Not even for Chloe.”

  “And do you love her? Not just because of Chloe? Did you tell her?”

  Ryan grimaced, which was obviously answer enough, because his father simply stared at him and slowly shook his head. “God. Somewhere I did go wrong. Women need to hear those words, boy.”

  “What good will it do? Even when she’s offered a chance to work at the hospital now that Yarnell’s back, she’s not interested! She’s going to go back to New York and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

  “Did you ever think about asking her to stay?”

  “You have a beautiful baby boy.” Mallory smiled into Peggy Duke’s exhausted face as she held up the little squalling infant.

  Peggy was still panting and she pushed up on one elbow to see better. Her other hand was twined around that of her young husband, Drew, who had labored nearly as much as his wife, if Mallory was any judge. “A boy?”

  “Perfect in every way,” she assured. “Ready to hold him?”

  Peggy nodded eagerly. Mallory took the blanket that Lorna, the delivery nurse, handed her. She wrapped it around the baby and settled him in his mother’s arms.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  But Mallory doubted that Peggy even heard. She was laughing, tears streaming down her face as she held her son and kissed her husband all at once.

  These were the moments that were the best part of Mallory’s job.

  She’d never felt envious before, but that’s what keened through her as she and Lorna finished tending to the new mom. They were all but invisible now, outside the joy bubbling around Peggy and Drew.

  Mallory was used to that. And before long, her work was done and she left the delivery room to head for the locker room. The new parents were in their room, probably counting fingers and toes by now, and debating names for their wonderfully perfect son.

  She pinched her nose, blinking back the burning behind her eyes.

  “Boy or girl?”

  She stopped cold, dropping her hand to see Ryan standing in front of the locker-room door. Her heart squeezed up into her throat. “Boy.”

  “What’d they name him?”

  “I don’t know,” she said faintly. She tugged off her cap and ran her fingers nervously through her hair. Her tennis shoes squeaked against the tile floor as she shifted. “What are you doing here? Did you need your truck?” Peggy’s delivery had taken less time than she’d expected, but it had still been several hours.

  “I need you.”

  The cap slid from her fingers and landed soundlessly on the floor.

  His eyes focused on hers. “I need you,” he repeated. More softly.

  Her eyes burned even more. She wasn’t capable of this fight. Not right now. Not when everything inside her was aching because she knew that what she really wanted was what couples like Peggy and Drew had.

  And she wanted it with Ryan.

  “I won’t take Chloe away,” she said.

  “This isn’t about Chloe.”

  “Everything is about Chloe. She’s the reason we’re here.”

  “She’s not the reason I need you.”

  She gnawed the inside of her cheek, not daring to let her heart put its own spin on his words. “I’ll work here at the hospital. Chloe can…can see you all the time. We’ll make it official. Your cousin’s husband…the attorney. He can write it up for us.”

  “We don’t need Brody to make this official.”

  “Why not?” She swallowed hard. “That will of yours is official.” The trust account. The check that she would never cash.

  “So would be a marriage license.”

  She winced. He was destroying her. “You don’t have to marry me to be her parent, either.”

  “I do if I want to be your husband.” His hands closed around her shoulders, burning through the scrubs she wore. “I’m asking you to marry me, Mallory. Take a job here if you want to. Or go back to New York. I don’t care, because I’ll just follow you!”

  She stared. Trying and failing to decipher the glint in his blue, blue eyes. “Chloe—”

  “Dammit, Doc, I hate to say this, but if you say our daughter’s name one more time right now, I’m going to—”

  He let out a noisy breath. Started again. “I love Chloe. I’ll probably go to my grave still quaking in my boots, afraid that I’m not as good a father as I know she deserves. But I need you.” His fingers squeezed her shoulders even harder. “I said I never wanted to feel anything again, but I was already lying to myself. You’re the reason I feel again, Mallory. The reason I want to feel again. I want to see your face when I get up in the morning.”

  She held her breath. Her eyes filled.

  His hands gentled. “I want to hold you against me when the day is done.” His voice dropped. “And know you’re going to be there when we wake up to face a new day all over again.”

  She inhaled. Shaky. Audibly.

  He stepped closer. Bringing with him all of that warmth that had so entranced her from the first moment they’d met. “I want to make love with you and laugh with you and—” his jaw canted to one side and slowly centered again “—and cry with you.”

  He slid his thumb across her cheek, catching the tears her lashes couldn’t contain.

  “I want your amazing mind and, most of all, your heart. And I’d want all of that whether Chloe existed or not. But she does, which makes everything even better, and I think she’s going to make a helluva big sister.”

  She let out a laugh that was a good portion sob. “You want more kids?”

  “At least you won’t have to worry how we’ll afford to send them to college.” His mouth curved slightly. But his expression was utterly, heart-wrenchingly vulnerable. “You say I know you? Know this. You’re the one who’s delivered me back into the world of the living, Dr. Keegan. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I may not know what I’m going to do with my life, but I do know I don’t want to do anything without you by my side.”

  It wasn’t a glint in his eyes, she realized.

  It was a light.

  And she could decipher it after all, even through her tears.

  Because it was love.

  “So.” His voice was husky. “Will you marry me?”

  She sniffed. Wiped her cheeks. And went onto her toes, closing her arms around his shoulders. “There’s no way we’re going back to New York,” she whispered thickly. “I’d never have enough time for the kids with the schedule they keep me on.”

  His arms surrounded her. His eyes gleamed. “Is that a yes?”

  It was a question. But it was so much more. It was a life, unfolding for them with promise and hope.

  She lifted her mouth to his. “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  “Ryan.” Chloe giggled. “I mean, Dad. When are we gonna go?”

  Ryan’s hand tightened around Mallory’s. His gaze met hers, wry. Amused. “Don’t tell me you’re in a hurry to go to bed?”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas Eve.” She leaned closer, her hands on Ryan’s knees. “Santa’s coming,” she whispered. As if it were a big secret.


  Mallory couldn’t seem to get the smile off her face. As far as she was concerned, Santa had already been, and he’d more than delivered. It might have been less than a month since Ryan had first shown up on her doorstep, but she felt as if he’d been part of their hearts forever. “I don’t think Santa’s going to miss our house if we stay a little longer,” she assured Chloe. “It’s not even your bedtime, yet.”

  Chloe exhaled and pushed away again. “This is going to be the longest night ever,” she moaned.

  But then Zach Forrest crossed her line of vision and, like a missile, she aimed for him, narrowly missing running into the tall, decorated Christmas tree situated in front of an enormous picture window.

  “You know,” Mallory mused, studying the tree as she’d done off and on since Ryan had claimed a spot for them to sit after dinner. “That angel topper reminds me of my sister.” She smiled faintly. “Isn’t that weird?”

  He smiled wryly. “Not to me.”

  They were at the Double-C. The big house, as Ryan had called it. Where Squire and his wife lived with Ryan’s uncle, Matthew, and his wife, Jaimie. According to Ryan, it was the only place large enough to hold the really big family gatherings. And Christmas Eve was really big.

  Watching the faces coming and going from their corner in a deep couch, Mallory still felt a little dazed. “It’ll take me forever to get all of their names straight.”

  Ryan’s fingers slid through hers. “We’ve got forever.”

  She didn’t see how it was possible, but every time he looked at her with emotion so plain in his eyes, her heart just fell open even wider.

  “So when’s the wedding date?” Axel stopped in front of them, looking all the more masculine for the baby propped against his shoulder. Ryan had told Mallory that Axel would be his best man.

  Mallory had asked Courtney to be her maid of honor and Ryan’s sister hadn’t tried to hide her wet eyes as she’d accepted. “A week from tonight,” she answered.

  Axel’s eyebrows rose and his lips tilted. He patted the padded backside of his tiny son. “New Year’s Eve. And I thought Tara and I did fast work. Not bad, Ryan.” Someone called his name, and he moved off with a wink.