“We’ll be fine. Even if your boys weren’t well-behaved, I could handle it. Be careful on the road.”
She glances back at the hallway and moves her backpack higher on her shoulder. “Okay. Again, dial if you need me.”
“I will. Now go. You don’t want to hit any rush hour traffic.” That subtle reminder prompts her body to get moving.
“You’re right.”
And then she’s gone. I turn back to the living room and take a deep breath. This right here—helping her out—is the reason I stayed in Sunnyville. It’s my purpose. Forty minutes later, the oven buzzer alerts that supper is ready.
“You boys ready to eat?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, Mr. Dixon.”
“Okay, when your mother isn’t around, please call me Nate.”
The youngest one giggles while the oldest one smirks. “Mom won’t like that.”
“Not that I want to keep secrets from your mom, but Mr. Dixon is best reserved for my dad.” Even if it’s indirectly since it’s not quite his name, but I don’t want reminders about him. Ever.
Sadness coats Liam’s eyes, and I want to kick myself for mentioning the word dad. I have so much to learn about kids.
“Where is your daddy? My daddy is dead. He was like Aquaman—a superhero.”
“More like Captain America.” Liam’s quick response deters from Nick’s first question. Which I’m grateful. I’d rather not discuss my dad with anyone, let alone two young boys.
“No! You said DC Comics is better, so Daddy has to be like them.”
Liam lets out a frustrated sigh, and before they get into a bickering contest, I distract them.
“How about we tackle that lasagna your mom cooked?” The two bobbing heads make me chuckle. “All right.”
I serve their portions, and Nick’s eyes widen as he eyes his plate.
“That’s a lot,” he whisper-shouts.
“Remember, Mom says to clean our plates,” Liam taunts, his giggles ringing through the air. I glance at Nick’s plate and wince. His portion covers most of the surface. I suppose it’s overkill for a five-year-old. Shit, I do have a lot to learn about kids.
“You don’t have to eat it all. We’ll put your leftovers in a container for tomorrow.” I suppress the laugh bubbling up at his relieved breath. This kid sure is cute.
When I sink my mouth into the melted cheese, I die. Not literally, but close enough. This is the best meal I’ve had since . . . My brain conjures the memory of the last decent home-cooked meal my mother made—pot roast with potatoes, carrots, and green beans. It was back when times were simpler. Back before I enlisted twenty-one years ago. Yes, I was the determined teenager who forced my father’s permission at the age of seventeen. I needed to fast track my life and get as far away from home and him as I could. Enlisting saved me. I have no regrets other than not saving these boys’ father. Their anguish will haunt me until the day I die.
After the meal, we clean the kitchen mess, along with the morning dishes. The rest of the evening passes without any problems. Mackenzie has done an excellent job raising these two guys. Other than little sibling squabbles, they’re golden. They’re quite different than the hellions Ethan had described.
The kids play Minecraft while I straighten some piles of magazines. The house is nearly clean but cluttered. What appears to be two if not three loads of laundry are piled on the far end of the couch and kicks my need for order into overdrive. Tackling a load of towels first, I place them in the bathroom closet. I fold the remaining clothes and stack them neatly on the couch. No way am I stepping into her bedroom to put them up. I glance around the tiny house and nod in approval. Hopefully, she isn’t offended by my cleaning. I don’t judge her housekeeping skills. She’s too busy juggling three roles to keep up with daily chores. I understand how she can fall behind, but these tasks help me as much as her. I can’t seem to relax. Something feels off.
When the kids finish mining their world, they brush their teeth and head to bed. I’m left alone in a house that has yet to be turned into a home. Her moving boxes, which I assume contain the house décor, sit piled in her bedroom. I noticed them the other day and wondered why she hasn’t sifted through them. Maybe she isn’t planning on staying here.
An hour later, that uneasiness from earlier nips at my insides. I push off the couch and check on the boys. The house is relatively small, so both boys share a bedroom. One quick peek for reassurance won’t hurt. As I peer through their doorway, the most angelic expression coats their faces. When was the last time I slept without a care in the world? I can’t even remember. I can lie to myself and say it was before Ethan’s death, but that wouldn’t be truthful. Peaceful sleep and dreamless nights have evaded me for years.
Nick mumbles something incoherent, and the sound tugs at my lips, causing a soft smile. I’ve never pictured myself having kids. It’s a scenario I couldn’t envision. And given my career path, it would’ve been devastating. After spending time with these two, I can see the draw. Maybe I am missing out, and I’ve gotten this whole parenting concept wrong. I shake my head. No. I’m not good for kids. It’s my fault these two boys lie in bed fatherless. I don’t deserve to have a family, let alone be anyone’s dad. How could I when I couldn’t save the ones I loved the most?
I step toward the living room, bitterness clawing at my throat. I don’t make it far when a clicking sound stops me cold. I strain to hear where the noise generates. Sliding my hand to the Glock holstered underneath my shirt, I glance at the open-faced clock. Ten fifteen. Mackenzie is due home any second, but the noise didn’t come from the front door. It came from the kitchen. Inch by inch, I stalk down the hall, my hand securely on the weapon. The last thing I want to do is draw a gun on someone when the kids are home. My job was more along the lines of saving lives instead of taking them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to shoot. When it comes to defending my country, my unit, and these kids, I won’t hesitate.
And as the thought fleets through my mind, the kitchen window slides open and sparks my plan into action. I race to the kitchen with the gun drawn. The intruder lands on the floor in a loud thump. When he tries to stand, I click the safety off as the front door opens.
“Don’t even think about it, asshole.”
Chapter Ten
Mackenzie
“What are you doing?” The panic in my voice causes both men to look at me, but I’m so confused. The scene displayed in front of me erases any high from being certified in CPR. I knew I’d be walking into some sort of surprise, but the last thing I expected was Nate pointing a gun. Anger boils beneath my skin, heating me with rage. A gun?
“Call the police, Mackenzie. This man is crazy.”
“Shut up, Jordan,” I direct my command at my idiot brother, but my focus pinpoints straight to Nate and that goddamn weapon. Where did it even come from? He certainly didn’t find it lying around here. My jaw clenches because the answer is obvious. He came into my house armed. The nerve. Who the hell does he think he is? “Lower your weapon. That’s my brother.”
Nate jerks his head to me. “Your brother?”
“Yes, my brother. Put the gun away. Where did you even get it?” My tone is venomous as I try to rein in my temper. Jordan lifts to his feet as Nate clicks the safety and holsters the gun behind him. Unbelievable. I don’t question why Jordan was on the floor, or why he’s even here. All I see is red. How dare Nate assume I’d be okay with him packing? My stomach lurches. I left this man with my children.
“Sorry, I usually carry.”
“You have no right coming into my house with a concealed weapon. Especially with my kids at home.”
The crease between his brows deepens as if he can’t comprehend why I’d be upset. It’s as if he’s genuinely confused. “Sorry, I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t think. Newsflash, not everyone is okay with guns.”
“Especially when they pull it on your brother,” Jordan says, moving closer to m
e.
“You broke into the house through the window,” Nate quips. “What the hell was I supposed to think?”
That makes me pause as the ramifications of what my brother did hits finally. “What the hell, Jordan? Why did you break in?”
One of his shoulders lifts to that half-shrug maneuver that drove me crazy growing up. Well, that along with his “fuck-it” attitude chip Jordan always carries on said shoulder. “I thought it’d be funny to scare you.”
“You think it’s a good idea to scare a single woman with two kids?”
What Nate asks makes perfect sense, but for some reason, it pisses me off more. Maybe it’s everything piling on top of me, but I can defend myself. I don’t need to be protected. I point my finger at Nate. “You need to leave.”
“Mackenzie, I’m sorry—”
“Mommy, what’s going on?”
My head whips to Liam. He stands in front of Nick with his arms back as if he’s a human shield. Pain grips my heart from the familiarity—the big brother playing the protector role while Ethan and I fought. The room feels smaller all of a sudden. I don’t want to rehash those memories, and the kids don’t need a reminder. We’re moving forward. Everything I do, everything I’m working toward is for them. I’ll be damned if I backpedal.
“Everything’s okay, sweetheart. Please go to your room, and I’ll be there shortly.”
Liam’s gaze shoots to Nate and then me. His brows furrow when he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
He hangs his head and murmurs something to Nick. They scurry down the hallway, and I summon every bit of strength to not cry. My emotions are spinning, I’m so mad.
Mad at Nate for bringing a weapon into my home.
Mad at my brother for giving Nate an excuse to draw it in the first place.
Mad at Ethan for spending the small amount of time we had arguing with me.
Do my kids even know how functional families live? Or do functional families even exist?
Nate breaks the silence once they’ve disappeared into their room. “Look, I’m really—”
“Leave! I can’t deal with you right now.” I’m being a bitch, but I can’t handle anymore arguing. Never mind that I’m not in the wrong. There’s no excuse for bringing a weapon into my home. I will not tolerate it. I won’t.
Nate’s gaze locks with mine for what seems like the longest minute in history before lifting his chin. It’s quick, but enough to let me know he understands. He doesn’t speak when he brushes past. I let him go, knowing this will probably be the last time I talk to him. And that sudden loss I feel at his departure? It only serves to stoke the fire already burning inside me. Damn it. I turn my glare to Jordan. Silence eats up the awkwardness between us.
“What are you doing here?” I ask after the front door clicks shut.
Jordan’s gaze lingers after Nate’s trail. His lips draw in disgust as he speaks. “I don’t like that guy. Why was he here watching my nephews?”
“Your nephews whom you’ve only seen once in the past five years?” I scoff. My son possesses more chivalry at age ten than my big brother could ever dream. Jordan has never been there for me. He didn’t even show for Ethan’s burial.
“That’s not fair. You know I’ve been busy.”
Sure, busy doing Lord knows what. “Answer my question. Why are you here?”
“Can’t a brother worry about his sister? Mom called and told me you moved back. I came to see if you were all right after everything that happened.”
My expression softens. Perhaps I’m too harsh. “I’m doing okay for the most part.”
“Are you going to be okay financially?”
The last thing I want to do is discuss my finances with Jordan. “We’ll be fine.”
Jordan looks toward the front door. “That guy—”
“Nate. His name is Nate.”
“Is Nate”—his nose scrunches as if the name itself conjures the smell of rotten eggs—“only sniffing around you for money?”
“No. He doesn’t know anything about me.”
“You never answered why you let a stranger watch my nephews?”
“He’s not a stranger, but if you must know, my sitter bailed on me. I didn’t have much choice.”
“What’s his full name?”
“Nathaniel Dixon. He goes by Nate.”
“I’ll do some checking.”
I roll my eyes. Typical Jordan. Riding into town on his white horse, only to realize he’s saddled on top of a donkey. The ass. He’ll be gone at the first sign of responsibility. “He’s harmless.”
Jordan shoots me a look that says I’m naïve. “I know Mom’s away, but I’m here now.”
Sure, like I’d trust him with my kids. I don’t argue. That battle can be fought later. “I’m surprised you didn’t break into Mom’s home and stay there.”
“Funny.”
I lift a shoulder, mimicking his signature move. “Just saying.”
“Don’t be a brat.” Jordan closes the distance between us and pulls me into a hug. “I’ve missed you, sis.”
I wrap my arms around his waist. He may have caused havoc when we lived in San Francisco, but he is my brother and I have missed him.
“I’m tired. I’m going to check on the boys and take a shower. You can sleep on the couch if you want. I’ll drop you off at Mom’s house tomorrow.” I’ll message Mom in the morning to check and see if she’s cool with him staying. But I know she won’t care. She never does when it comes to Jordan. The guy can do no wrong in her eyes, although he has done plenty.
“That’s chill.” He ambles over to the couch. “Hey, do you have a computer I can borrow? I need to check out a few things.”
“Yeah, my laptop is on the desk.”
“Password?”
“Kitten2Purrfect.”
“Really, sis? That’s been your passcode for everything since we were kids.”
“What? I still miss Peaches. Besides, it’s easy to remember.”
“You need to protect yourself better.”
“Stop with the accusations. Nate’s a good guy. If you weren’t scaling through my window, you would’ve seen his good side.”
“Yeah.” He angles toward my computer. “I’m still gonna do my homework on him.”
“Fine. Whatever. It’s not like it matters. I’m sure my crazed bitch side scared him away for good.”
“You know I never liked it when Ethan called you that.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
The awkwardness comes roaring back. Jordan sighs. “I love you, sis.”
“For what’s it worth, I’ve missed you.”
That earns me a genuine smile. “I’ve missed your face.”
When I make it into bed, thoughts of Ethan infiltrate my brain. I never liked the fact we had guns in the house. It was one of our many fights. Before I moved here, I sold them—every last one he had. A gun is what took my husband from me. I won’t tolerate them around me—not when I have control—but Nate wouldn’t have known that. He doesn’t even know about Ethan’s death.
Tears prick my eyes as I curl into a ball on my side. The guy was kind enough to help me in a tight spot, and I repaid that kindness by going ballistic on him. Maybe I am a crazed bitch? Ethan coined the phrase when I demanded the guns be placed out of reach once Liam learned to walk. I still stand by my standards and I won’t yield.
But that doesn’t change how bad I feel for yelling at Nate. I may not have handled the situation very well, but I know what this crazed bitch needs to do in the morning.
Chapter Eleven
Nate
How the hell did I become the bad guy?
I slam my cottage door shut and thrust my fingers in my hair. Fuck. How did I screw up so badly? I should have known better than to bring a gun into Mackenzie’s house without permission, but I didn’t think twice about it. Her late husband was an Army Ranger, for fuck’s sake. Shouldn’t she be used to them? The way Ethan bragged about his guns, he must’ve owned
an arsenal.
Okay, maybe it was wrong to point the gun at her brother, but how would I have known who he was? The guy broke into the house. But still, of all times for her to come home, it had to be right as I aimed.
Fuck!
I grab a cold longneck from the mini-refrigerator and take a long pull. Glancing around the small space, I feel lost until my gaze lands on Ethan’s letter. I snatch it from the bedside table and stalk to the couch. Sinking into the cushions, I take another drink and read the letter, starting at the point I left off the other day.
. . . I know you hate lying but hear me out. In three months, you’ll be re-upping. Before you commit to the maximum number of years, take some time off and do me a solid. Check on my wife and kids. I know you’ve never met them, but despite every complaint I’ve uttered, Mackenzie’s a good mom. She’s strong and will be okay. It’s the time span between now and then that keeps me awake. She doesn’t have anyone to look after her. That’s partially my fault since I’m a selfish bastard. The only way I know to make it up to her is to send you.
Here’s where the lying comes into play. This has to be a covert mission. I know my wife. If she finds out I asked you to be there, her stubborn ass will demand you leave. That’s just her way. So even though lying—even if it’s by omission—goes against your nature, you need to keep your identity a secret. Mackenzie needs protecting whether or not she realizes it. She’ll buck you if she finds out. Please honor this wish. Besides, you being there is temporary. Trust me. You’ll be long gone before she reads the letter I’ve written to her.
I wouldn’t ask this from anyone else, but you’re the only one I trust. You’re a standup guy. There aren’t too many people I’d put my life on the line for. And I’m an army ranger. My creed is for my band of brothers, but you know when it comes to family, I only want the best. That’s why I’m asking only you to take care of her.
One last thing. Don’t worry if you fall in love with her. She’s easy to love. That’s how I got trapped.
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