MAC
I wake, blinking open gritty eyes to a warm summer morning. The sun streams through an open window. Sheer white curtains billow in the soft breeze, bringing with it the salty tang of the nearby ocean. Moving my head on the pillow, I realise I’ve slept in my own room for the first time in three nights. My bed is a soft fluffy cloud, so much nicer than the rock they call a mattress in the doom of Ward 2A.
My room here is decorated in white. Cool, crisp sheets, fresh painted walls, white-framed photographs. No colour. Not in my private space. Colour is fine to wear, but here I need no distraction; white is quiet, inoffensive, and gives me no bullshit.
I was in the hospital overnight, suffering minor wounds and dehydration. The second night I slept in a chair, refusing to leave the Critical Care Unit where Evie was stationed. She fought a hard battle through the first night, but she won, surviving two gunshot wounds that should have been fatal. You would think Jared would be rejoicing, but he’s moping around as though she’s in a coma with days left to live. It makes no sense but that’s my brothers for you. They’re unpredictable dickheads.
A bang comes from my left. I turn my head. Jake is carrying a timber tray in both hands, using it to push open the bedroom door. His eyes come to me once the tray is stable. He assesses me with a careful scan as he walks in.
Seemingly assured I’m alive and breathing, he sets his burden on the white-washed timber bedside table. It has my belly rumbling. Juice, coffee, toast heaped with poached eggs and a pile of bacon high enough to feed all the animals of Africa. I glare at the addition of a yellow rose in a little white ceramic vase. It’s not red, but it still screams romance.
“What’s with the flower, Nurse Betty?”
He straightens and folds his arms. “You’re a grouch when you’re injured, Princess. Thought it might cheer you up.”
Jake has been unusually solicitous since my kidnapping, as though another abduction is imminent. The hovering is downright aggravating, but I can’t ignore the benefits. Jake has brought me food, dressed solely in a pair of football shorts. That singular scrap of clothing makes his miraculous body appear all the bigger.
My eyes shift from the wonderment of his chest and back to the rose. It has no doubt been snipped from the neighbour’s yard in an attempt to add a little happiness to my morning. It’s in the prime of its life—petals the colour of sunshine unfurled and glistening with morning dew. It’s bright, cheery, and annoying. Yet warmth steals over me, ripping away my usual morning churlishness.
I force a scowl. “Do you think it worked?”
“Yes.”
His chin lifts, daring me to tell him his efforts have all been for nought.
“It’s pretty,” I mutter, reaching for my coffee. The stretch pulls on the bandages wrapped around my wrists. I wince.
Jake grabs the mug before I can reach. “Would you sit up?” he barks. “If you try drinking hot coffee while lying down, you’ll tip it all over yourself and end up with third-degree burns.”
“Oh my god, you sound like my mother.”
“For fuck’s sake. I do not,” he argues, indignant. With my beverage in one hand, Jake uses the other to shove pillows into a pile behind me, forcing me into an inclined position. Once satisfied that I’m suitably vertical, he holds out the mug. “It’s just logic and gravity.”
“Gravity, schmavity.”
Jake huffs, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Of course.” I breathe on the black liquid in my mug, cooling it before taking a sip. Warmth floods my system, bringing me to life. Jake is a master at brewing the perfect blend. The coffee is strong as an ox. Black, rich, and sugar free. My toes all but curl with pleasure. “You should bring me this exact coffee in bed every day.”
“Suck my dick every day and I will.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so crude.”
He snorts. I have everyone beat when it comes to hurling obscenities, but Jake is a close second.
“Suck your own dick,” I add.
Jake reaches for a slice of bacon from the plate. “I would if I could.”
“That’s my bacon.”
He shoves the whole rasher in his mouth. Eyes flash with defiance as he chews the huge mouthful.
I glare as I sip at my coffee.
When Jake finally swallows, he says, “I made enough for two.”
He picks up the plate and sets it on my lap. Then he climbs on the bed, his big body shifting until he’s settled in beside me, our shoulders brushing.
I glance sideways. “What are you doing?”
Jake snags another rasher and gives me a wink. “Lying here with you, eating breakfast.”
“I’m not going to be abducted from my bed,” I point out as he munches his way through my food.
“I know, but I like this.”
“Like what?”
“This.” Jake waves the remainder of his bacon in a little arc over our laps, anointing my sheets with tiny droplets of grease. Then he pops it in his mouth, chews, and swallows. “Being with you.” He turns his head. It brings us so close our noses almost touch. “You smell good.”
“I’ve been in a hospital,” I argue, enjoying the interaction. I like this too. A lot. It feels … right. “I smell like antiseptic ointment and disinfected sheets.”
“No, it’s not that.” Jake leans in and rubs his nose along my neck. His breath tickles my skin. “It’s like the scent of you is plugged into some fundamental part of my brain.” His tongue snakes out, trailing a hot path toward my ear. My breath hitches when he nips at my lobe. “And the taste of you.” He pulls back, looking at me with hooded eyes. “You’re a drug, Mackenzie Valentine. One I can’t quit.”
But you did quit me.
The reminder has me crawling back inside myself.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice gruff.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do that. Every time we get too close, you shut down and we end up fighting.”
“Because I can’t forget, Jake,” I answer honestly. “And I can’t …”
“Can’t?” he prompts.
My heart aches. “I can’t forgive,” I whisper.
Grief flits across his expression, and he bows his head. His wide shoulders sag. Damn him. He makes this so hard.
“I’m sorry, Jake.”
“I don’t want an apology when I’m the one who’s sorry.” He shakes his head, lifting his gaze. “I just want you to try.”
“It’s too hard.”
“I’ll make it easy for you. I promise.” Jake shifts closer, his calloused palm rising to cup my cheek. His eyes darken, beseeching. “Please.”
A small smile finds its way to my lips, and he covers it with his mouth, kissing me. The touch is tender. Light. Impossible to deny. My body responds, nipples tightening to painful points and heat licking its way down my spine.
Jake feels it and our kiss hardens into basic need. He needs my touch. I need his. My mouth opens and our tongues meet, rubbing and tangling together. Kissing him makes me dizzy and wet. A moan climbs my throat.
Before it escalates any further, Jake draws back and presses his forehead to mine.
A lump fills my throat. “What if I can’t?”
“Don’t even think about that. Let’s just take each day as it comes. And then one day it will become easy and there’ll be nothing between us. No past. Just you and me, together.” He kisses me again, a soft press of his lips. “I love you, Princess.”
“I—”
Jake shakes his head. “Don’t say anything. I just want you to know.”
The loud clearing of a throat interrupts us.
I jerk wildly. Coffee tips from the mug I forgot was in my hands. It splashes out, staining my sheets.
“Shit,” I mutter, seeing Casey leaning against the doorframe. An amused glint lights his eyes as he looks between the both of us. “Jake was just … He brought me breakfast.”
Casey waves an opened packet of Doritos, seeming to think nothing of Jake’s and my close proximity. “I was just doing the same thing. Looks like he beat me to it.”
Jake’s tone is unamused. “You were bringing her Doritos for breakfast?”
“What?” Casey looks at the packet in mock confusion. “It’s cheese. And corn. Part of the food pyramid.”
He tosses a chip in his mouth with a loud crunch.
“What did you bring her?” His flirty blue eyes fall on the breakfast tray before moving to the plate in my lap. “Wow. A full-cooked breakfast. Bacon. Eggs. Coffee. Food of the Gods.” He nods, looking at me. “That right there is the actions of a man in love.”
“Dude,” I mutter. “That is not what this is.”
“Fuck you, Mac,” Jake mumbles under his breath. “That’s exactly what this is.” Louder, he says, “What do you want, Daniels?”
A cheeky grin forms on Casey’s lips. Damn, but the man is powerfully sexy, and I’m not blind. Short, dirty-blonde hair, tall and built, he has an infectious attitude that draws you in like a moth to flame. “I was checking to see if the Mac Attack needed anything, but clearly you’ve got her bases covered. All of them.”
“I do. Mac doesn’t need anything you’ve got to offer, mate.”
A laugh flies from my mouth. His statement is almost absurd. Any girl would beg to have what Casey has to offer. Even if it does only come in Dorito form.
Indignation flushes Jake’s cheeks. “Did you just laugh?”
“No.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“Well, if I’m not needed,” Casey says, interrupting our squabble, “then you ladies will have to excuse me. I’ve got shit to do.”
He leaves quickly and we hear the sound of him jogging down the stairs moments later. I turn to Jake. “Do you think he knows?”
“Knows?”
“About us?” I clarify with an eye roll.
JAKE
How Mac is letting me stay in her bed, I don’t know. Scratch that. I do. She’s vulnerable after what happened. Do I feel guilty about taking advantage of that vulnerability? Fuck no. She’s going to have to suck it up and get used to me being in her face. Short of telling her everything that went down the night of her kidnapping, being like this is the only way to cement a future together as a happy, albeit hostile, couple.
I like the hostility, the rabid interaction we have. It keeps me on my toes. Keeps me wanting more. Being on stage, hammering a wild, heavy beat as the rioting crowd swells into a single living organism is nothing compared to having Mac naked beneath me. Or here beside me, bickering as she likes to do.
“So what if Casey knows, or anyone else for that matter?” I answer. “Would that be so bad?”
Mac lifts her chin, the stubborn bitch. “Yes.”
“Why?”
She pauses for a moment as if scrambling for a reason. “Because it’s unprofessional. We work together. I’m the manager. You’re the talent.”
I snort. “Try again.”
“Because I don’t know how to explain the history we’ve kept hidden from everyone all this time.”
“I’ll explain it,” I say, shooting down her second reason.
Her brows snap together. “Dammit, Romero.”
“Your reasons are thin, Princess. Try again.”
Mac huffs and exhales sharply through her nostrils. The truth is in there, bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. It will come out because I’ve succeeded in pissing her off by digging for it.
“Because I’m not ready.”
And there it is. I hide my disappointment by reaching for her mug of coffee. I take a sip. It’s a punch to the eyeballs. The liquid is dark, bitter, and blacker than night. It’s also lukewarm. I set it on the opposite bedside table.
“Okay then,” I reply and force a smile.
“That’s it?”
“I can’t make you do something you’re not ready for,” I explain patiently.
“That’s right. And it’s not like we’re even together,” she goes on to say, her words a blow to the heart. Not like we’re together? I can’t live without you!
Despite the inner turmoil, my external voice is calm. “We’re anything you want us to be.”
As long as she wants us to actually be together.
I’m a fool for listening to Casey. Mac should know what her brothers have done. They’re the ones who deserve her anger and forgiveness. But there’s a small voice in the back of my mind that whispers, What happens when she does find out? Will it all become water under the bridge, or will it be too late for the two of us to recover what we lost?
Forcing Mac to rest for the majority of the day is impossible. Her parents and friends have been visiting on and off since we finished breakfast, so she got nothing done regardless.
It’s late afternoon and she’s in the shower when Jared puts in an appearance. I’ve avoided her brothers since the night of the kidnapping. My tolerance for them is zero, and I can’t see that increasing any time soon. So when the knock comes at the door and I open it to find him on the doorstep, my blood pressure hits the roof.
His brows wing up. He’s surprised to find me here. Perhaps he was hoping to avoid me too. The duplex we live in houses the six of us, though Mac, Evie, and Henry live in this side; Frog, Cooper, and I live in the other. It’s basically the same set up we had in Melbourne, except we’re two joined houses on one property with a shared back deck and yard. It’s the perfect arrangement, except for times like now when I have to face Jared standing at the door with the expression of a guilty chump.
“What do you want?” I growl for the sole purpose of being difficult. It’s clear he’s here to see his sister.
Jared flicks his sunglasses up and rests them on his head. His green eyes are worn, the skin beneath them bruised from apparent lack of sleep. “Can we talk?”
“Is there anything left to say?”
“Yes.”
I grind my jaw. “You mean there’s more you’ve kept from me?”
“No. There’s nothing else we’ve kept from you.”
I turn and walk into the kitchen, leaving the door wide open. It’s a clear indication that he can come in without me having to be solicitous about it. He steps inside and follows, dumping his keys, wallet, and sunglasses on the kitchen counter while I help myself to a beer from the fridge. I don’t offer him one. It’s his sister’s place. If he wants a drink, he can get it himself.
He notices the slight with an audible exhale through his nostrils. Good. My emotional position has been made clear. I’m still angry.
Using the bottle opener, I flick the top from my beer and toss it in the bin. Tipping it up, I take a hell of a long sip before I acknowledge him with my eyes.
“Talk already,” I mutter when I’m done, realising that drawing this out is making the situation more strained than it already is.
“I want to apologise,” he says.
“Is that it?”
“I understand why you’re angry.”
“Good for you.”
Jared’s brows snap together. “Dammit, Romero.”
“You want me to make this easier for you?”
“I just want to explain what happened.”
“No, you just want to come here and say you’re sorry to make yourself feel better,” I point out. “But apologies are just an acknowledgement that you stuffed up. They don’t fix shit.” My mind goes to the child Mac and I made together. Was it from the first time we made love? We had argued. Then she told me she belonged to me before laughing in my eyes as she peeled off her dress. It’s the best memory ever. So wild, unpredictable, and incredibly beautiful. To think of losing a child, a son or daughter, just like her makes me ache in the most painful way possible. It’s torture. “It doesn’t bring back what was lost,” I whisper hoarsely, unable to hide the onset of grief.
I need to share it with Mac. I want to wrap my arms around her and just hold on while I howl because the pain is too much.
Jared breathes in deep, his expression clearly distraught. It doesn’t stop me saying what needs to be said. “I think about how I feel right now, and then I think of what Mac must have felt when it happened. And to not be given the opportunity to cry with her, grieve with her, and hold her through the worst of it kills me. It fucking kills me,” I choke out. “You took that from us and that’s something you have to live with.”
“I don’t know how to explain how sorry I am.” Jared swallows, but he stands strong, holding my eyes as he bumbles through his apology. “We lied to you by not saying anything. By telling you to stay away from Mac. And we lied to Mac by telling her you knew about the accident, and losing the baby, when you never knew at all. It was a horrible mistake, and I—”
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind us.
We both turn.
Mac is standing on the bottom stair, feet frozen and face stripped of colour. A beat of strained silence falls before Jared takes a step toward her.
Mac moves back in response and fumbles as she hits the stair behind her. “What did you do?”
Her voice is a low accusatory sound that rips my chest wide open. A shaky hand comes to her mouth and her eyes seek mine.
“Princess,” I mouth, my vision blurring.
“They never told you?” she croaks.
Mac’s gaze follows me as I walk toward her. She’s on the step above when I reach her side and it brings us to eye level. “No, sweetheart. I didn’t know. I found out the night you were kidnapped.”
Her jaw trembles.
My voice comes out a harsh whisper. “We lost a baby.”
She nods, her lips pressed together as if she’ll lose it by speaking.
The ache in my heart is heavy as I stare at the girl who’s been through hell and yet stands tall and strong in the face of it. My insides feel like flimsy glass ready to shatter. How has she not broken like the way I feel I’m about to? “I’m so sorry.”
“Why didn’t you say anything when you found out?”
“It was the last thing you needed to hear under the circumstances.”
Fire sparks in her eyes. “Fuck the circumstances,” she snaps, holding her jaw tight to stop the trembling. Her eyes cut to Jared. “And fuck you.”
Her brother tucks his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. “Mac, we thought—”
“You don’t get to speak,” she hisses, her body vibrating with anger. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I want you to leave. Now.”