Liam gives me a side-eyed glance. “You sure, Mom?”
The corners of my lips pull into a smile. I don’t know what I did to deserve this kid, but he always looks out for me.
“I’m okay. I’ll throw in a pizza for supper.”
“Okay.” He nods and heads over to the game console. After setting the stove’s timer, I stalk to my bedroom ready to tackle the daunting task of unpacking.
I can do this.
I repeat this mantra in my head, but the moment I step through the door and spy the moving boxes, all bravado dies. It takes everything I have to march to the one package that’s been holding me hostage. I pull the small box out and run my hands along the edges. Part of me wants to put it back and hide it away with the other boxes I have no intentions of opening today. But the rational side tells me I need to face this. I can’t move forward until I face reality. The reality that all that’s left of my husband fits inside this little box.
I suck in a breath and take the box cutter to the tape. My heart pounds as my fingers trace along the flaps and open them. A square piece of red felt sits on top, wrapped by a gold thread. I don’t have to unwind the ribbon to know what it contains, but my gargled gasp is automatic when I reveal Ethan’s wedding band. I pick up the ring and run it between my fingers as the threatening tears spill over. Oh, God, give me strength.
Why Ethan? Why did this happen? We were supposed to have one last scene together—one more act. I close my eyes, holding the ring close to my heart. We never got to carry out our final plan.
I place his ring back in the box and riffle through the remaining items. His cell phone, that I’m sure has been wiped clean. A lighter that puzzles me. Ethan never smoked. A picture of the kids I sent him last year. I freeze when I spot a folded piece of paper at the bottom. I pick it up, confused when I see my name scrolled across the top. This paper can’t be what I think it is.
We watched a chick flick once. I had to make him. He loathed watching romance movies, but this particular movie had a few action-packed scenes, and the main character was in the army, so he complied. In one scene, the main character wrote a last letter to his wife. Ethan scoffed and said that doesn’t happen in real life. I can still hear his words. “Not only is it a pussified thing to do, but it’s considered bad juju.” He ruined everything.
I stare at the letter, wondering if he wrote these before every mission or just this particular one. I clutch the paper tighter, unable to read his last words as the guilt burrows deeper. God, I wish I loved him more.
“Mom, I forgot to tell you I found out when soccer sign-ups are.” Liam comes barreling into the room. I shove the letter into the small box and blink the wetness away.
“Yeah?” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. God, I can’t believe I dropped the ball on finding that out. “When are they?”
“This Saturday at the park. Some guy stopped by Ms. Norfolk’s house and told me. Can you sign me up?”
“Yeah. I don’t work Saturday.”
“Yes! How long is Uncle Jordan going to stay? Will he be here for my birthday?”
God, I’m a terrible mother. How could I also forget about his upcoming birthday? “I don’t know, honey. But I’m sure he’ll still be around here.”
“Are you mad at Nate?”
I blow out a breath. “You mean Mr. Dixon? No. I didn’t like the fact he had a gun, but I spoke to him about that.”
“Dad had guns.”
“I didn’t like that either.”
Liam shrugs. “I like Nate . . . Mr. Dixon.”
“Yeah? I like him too.” He respects my wishes.
“Will he be back?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. I’m not sure there will be a need for him to come over.” I ignore the weird pang in my chest that thought causes.
“He listened.”
I turn to face my son. He stands near the doorway, his expression all too serious for a ten-year-old. “What do you mean?”
“When I talked. Nate listened to me. Dad never did.” He looks down at the ground as if he’s ashamed to admit that. My heart breaks.
“Your dad was . . .” Selfish comes to mind, but I shouldn’t think that way. That isn’t fair to say when Ethan isn’t here to defend himself. No matter how accurate the words are. But he did leave a letter. “Your dad was busy and had a lot on his mind.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Wishing you spent more time together is perfectly normal.”
“I just . . . I don’t know. Sometimes I felt like he didn’t want us to bother him.”
Oh boy.
I walk over to my son and pull him into a hug and kiss the top of his head. Then, I back up just enough to look him in the eyes. “He loved you. Sometimes people have a hard time expressing themselves. They don’t know how to show how much they care. But never doubt his love for you.”
Liam nods, his eyes filled with so many emotions, my heart hurts. Our discussion took an unexpected turn into Heavyville, but he obviously needed reassurance. I may sugarcoat Ethan’s actions, but I believe what I’m saying. Ethan loved his kids. He just didn’t want to bear the responsibility that came with them. The stove’s timer dings shutting down our conversation.
“Let’s eat, shall we?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Liam backs away, but as he reaches the hallway, he turns toward me. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too.”
Then, he bolts from the room to get his brother. With a heavy heart, I grab the box and place it on my dresser. I look at it and then back at my ring finger. My chest constricts as I slide my wedding ring off. The small diamond chip blurs through the wetness in my eyes. The ring wasn’t much, but it was all we could afford at the time. Ethan promised to buy a different one, but he never followed through, like so many of his promises. Not that I ever cared about the diamond size. It’s what the band represents that matters most to me. I take a deep breath and place the band inside the box with Ethan’s. As for Ethan’s last words, I’ll have to work myself up for that task. Not enough time has passed to read words he should’ve said years ago.
Chapter Thirteen
Nate
My feet pound against the asphalt as sweat beads across my forehead from the late morning heat. I need to acclimate myself to warm weather all over again. Living in the mountains has made me soft.
Rounding the street corner, I enter the park’s entrance and pick up the pace. I need to push myself. To forget the reasoning behind the late start. But nothing, not even the slapping of footsteps echoing in my ears, can drown the nightmarish thoughts plaguing my mind. The evergreen trees blur as I sprint faster, but they do little to keep my mind focused. All I visualize are the images my nightmare dredges—the loud explosions, the screams, the siren sounding too late . . . the blood.
I ignore the burn in my calves as my heart pumps harder. It isn’t until I notice other people mulling around the park that I slow my pace. It’s Saturday morning, later than my usual time, when aside from the occasional jogger, the grounds are usually empty. That’s certainly not the case today. It seems something is taking place.
When my gaze lands on a group congregated around a table, I slow to a jog and gulp a large intake of air. I ignore the tingling sensation working its way through my body the moment I spot Makenzie. She looks so damn beautiful standing off to the side, her focus directed to the paper she’s holding. Her auburn hair hangs in loose curls around her shoulders, the slight breeze keeping it off her heart-shaped face. It’s when I get closer that I notice her pinched expression. My skin prickles.
The smart thing to do would be to stay the course and head back to The Cottages. Other than the coffee shop’s daily morning exchange, I haven’t talked to Mackenzie since she came and apologized. She obviously doesn’t need me since she hasn’t called. And despite missing her boys, I haven’t been around to check on them. I don’t know why I’m still here in Sunnyville.
As she l
ooks up and our gazes connect, I know the reason. Whether or not she knows it—whether or not I want to admit it—I’m at her mercy. There’s no way I can leave until I know she’s one hundred percent settled. And my body must understand the need to be near her as evidenced by my legs carrying me over to where she stands.
I find the boys a few feet away, talking to a kid around Liam’s age. At my approach, Mackenzie’s warm smile isn’t quite forced, but it’s loaded with panic. I want to fix whatever has her stressing. The all too familiar urge to pull her into my arms tugs at me, but I push back the desire. One, she won’t appreciate my sweaty, smelly self, and the last thing I need to do is touch her. But damn, I want to. If our circumstances were different, there wouldn’t be anything holding me back. I draw up short on that thought.
Nothing holding me back?
I don’t do relationships. What the hell am I thinking? The attraction is real. I can’t deny this feeling between us. I open my mouth to ask about her problem, but two little guys run up to me and interrupt what I was going to say.
“Hey, Nate,” Liam says as he and Nick bounce on their feet.
“Hey, boys. What’s going on?” I give them high fives while stealing glances at their mom. Her feeble attempt to appear relaxed fails. She’s clearly stressed.
“Mom’s signing me up for soccer!”
My gaze cuts to Mackenzie. Those glossy, pink lips flatten to a thin line, the source of her stress now apparent. She’s worried about squeezing another task into her already tight schedule.
“That’s great. I bet you’re ready to start.”
“I can’t wait. I already met someone on my team.” He points to the kid he was talking to earlier. The boy wears a T-shirt with Mark’s Reality sprawled across the front. Unless Mark’s Reality sponsors the team, my bet is that kid belongs to Mark.
“Mommy, you promised I could go down the slide,” Nicholas cuts in.
“Liam, can you take your brother to the fenced-in part?”
“Sure. Come on, Nick. I’ll race you.” Liam swats Nick’s arm in an attention grabbing gesture.
As they take off, Mackenzie yells after them, “Stay on the smaller slides.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”
I chuckle at the kids’ response. There’s no way they’re staying on the miniature one. I turn back to Mackenzie and offer a sympathetic smile. “I take it you don’t share the same enthusiasm?”
She shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”
The glistening in those big green eyes states differently. “Mackenzie, what’s wrong?”
“I feel bad complaining, but”—she blows out a frustrated breath—“it’s this schedule. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. Liam has practice three times a week and games on Saturday. One of the practice nights is during my clinical. I can’t ask Sandy to run him everywhere. How am I going to study, make it to my clinical, and get him to practice? I could bring my studies with me, I suppose, but then Nick will be with me. I can’t put him on autopilot and let him roam the park by himself.”
And my reasoning for staying now has a purpose. This woman will be my downfall. But for some reason, it’s one downhill trip I don’t mind taking.
“And you said your mom doesn’t come home for another few weeks?”
“Oh, there’s been a change of plans. They’ll be back next week.”
As fast as it came, that small pocket of hope deflates. I force a smile. “You’ll get some help then, right?”
“Not really.” Her face scrunches as if she’s in pain. “My stepdad broke his hip. They’ll be back, but Mom won’t be free. She’ll have to take care of Stan. It’s good that my brother came home when he did so he’ll be able to help them since he’s staying there.” Under her breath, she adds, “If he doesn’t bail.”
“I hate hearing that happened.” I also hate that I’m relieved she still needs help. That’s some twisted logic if I ever saw any. “Were they able to pin the hip, or did they have to be more invasive?”
She gives me a questionable look. “Look at you being all specific. Most people ask if he needed surgery. But yeah, he had a hip pinning.”
I should let it go. Giving orders increases my chances of giving away my profession, but I’ll always be a surgeon first. “When he comes home, be sure he follows his physical therapy. The last thing you want him doing is throwing an embolism.”
Her eyebrows rise. “You speak as if you have experience.”
“You could say that. How’s Stan doing otherwise?” I ask to divert the attention from me. Although, I have to admit this charade is getting old. I don’t know how much longer I can go without telling her the entire truth.
“I think okay. Stan seemed in good spirits the last time I talked to him. My mother, though. She’s a basket case.”
“I bet. You know, I’m here to help.”
She hesitates, which is a pattern with her. At first, I took her denial personally, but I believe it’s more her nature than anything to do with me. There are two types of people in this world—givers and takers. Mackenzie is all giver. She hates asking for help.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Mackenzie, you’re not asking. I’m offering.”
“Why?”
The question throws me off. “Why not? I’m not working. If anything, you’re doing me a favor. I need to be useful.”
“I don’t know where you came from, but you’re a godsend.” Her words are barely over a whisper, but enough to tighten the pang in my chest.
“Nah, I happen to be between assignments right now.”
She cocks her head. “The freelance jobs?”
“Something like that.”
“What kind of freelance do you do?”
“I’ll let you know once I figure it out.”
“Okay, Mr. Evasive. I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.”
I give her a small smile. “Caught me.”
“You don’t have a problem helping out?”
“I’d be honored to help. Besides, it’ll keep me busy until it’s time to move on.” My stomach tightens at the thought of leaving. The ultimate goal has always been to leave, but the plan has lost its appeal for some reason. If I’m not mistaken, she doesn’t like it either.
“Thank you.” She scratches her forehead with her left hand, her naked ring finger on full display. My mouth dries as I process what removing her wedding band means. Has she moved past the final grief stage?
I take a step back and force myself to stay focused on her, and not the symbolism of where her mind may be psychologically. I’m already reading too much into her action.
“Well, I better head back.” I jog backward. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Those perfect lips form a smile. “I’ll be there waiting.”
I twist around and jog toward my temporary home. Maybe I should look for a more permanent residence. I chuckle at the thought of using the business card I mocked. But Mark could find me a cheaper alternative than The Cottages.
Christ.
What the hell am I doing?
Chapter Fourteen
Makenzie
“What’s going on with Mr. Fix It? Has he come over and serviced you, yet?” Jill asks after restocking the last of the chocolate croissants. Those seem to sell out first, but I can’t say as I blame them. They are delicious.
“Keep your voice down.” My eyes dart to Mr. Morgan. He sips cluelessly on his coffee. Thank goodness, the old man is half deaf. The last thing I need is for him to go back and blab to his wife about me being with another man, especially since it’s not true.
Jill laughs. “Why are you worried about Miles? He’s oblivious. If it isn’t vineyards or wine, he doesn’t pay attention. Besides. You’ve got needs that need fulfilling.”
“Good point, but still.” I shake my head. “To answer your question, no. But he’s helping me with Liam’s practices.”
“Oh, really.” Her eyebrows jump to her hairline as she shifts clos
er. In an overeager voice, she says, “Spill.”
“Trust me. It’s purely innocent. Liam has soccer practice three days a week. One of the practices lands during my clinical. Nate not only offered to take them to practice so I can study, but he offered to stay with them on the night I’ll be gone. It’s a relief, honestly. I won’t have to burden Sandy, and the boys can let out some steam.”
“Wow, he’s sure going out of his way to help. Are you positive you’re not slipping him a little on the side?”
“Positive.” I shake my head. “It’s all about the kids. Although, I’m sure the gossip hounds will twist it around.”
“I know you worry about it being too soon, but believe me when I say nobody cares.”
“Oh, I know someone who’ll care.” I direct my gaze to Mr. Morgan.
“You shouldn’t let that woman get to you. Her opinion hardly matters.” That woman being Mr. Morgan’s wife.
“Yeah, you’re right, but that woman has always gotten to me. She hated me from the beginning and never thought I measured up to her standards.”
“Why?”
The answer to Jill’s question walks through the door. Mark Morgan. The eldest heir to Morgan Wineries. He never wanted anything to do with the business, though. His mom blamed me. That sentiment only worsened after our breakup. Although, that’s pure speculation on my end.
Mark’s eyes find mine. Sadness slams into me. I hate the way things turned out between us and have been dreading this meeting. It was impossible to avoid. The town is only so big.
“Let’s just say, I never measured up to her standards,” I murmur.
“I honestly don’t think anyone would.”
Mark says something to his father before heading to the counter. “Mackenzie, I heard you were back in town.”
“That would be correct. I wanted to be around family.”
“I also heard your eldest signed up for soccer. He’s on the same team as my son.”
“Is that right?” I figured the boy sporting Mark’s business name across his shirt was his. It was either that or Mark had sponsored the team in the past.
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