Chapter 5
Chapter Five
GRACE
W hen Louisa told me everything Mackinlay went through, I was in shock. He’s lucky to have come home at all. But even those thoughts are not helping me curb my temper right now as we stare each other down in the doorway to the laundry.
“I told you I can do it, Grace.”
“And I told you , this is my job. I’ll be damned if you are gonna take this away from me, Rawlins, just because you got out of bed on the wrong side since whenever !”
“The wrong side—” He scrubs his hand over the light stubble on his jaw as his eyes track to the ceiling, the other hand gripping the crutch like his life depends on it. By the way his gait wobbles today, it’s possible it does.
“Focus on your recovery and let me handle the rest.”
His fiery gaze meets mine again, and it only hardens. “If you say so.”
He moves from the doorway where he’s been blocking me from entering, and I step through with his hamper.
“I forgot to tell you, Addy is coming over later to run me through your regime in case I can help.”
“Of course she is,” he mutters, breaking eye contact. “Like I want your fuckin’ help.”
A knock on the front door has him drag his focus from our conversation toward the sound. I go about loading the washing machine and add the detergent, anger lighting up my veins. After getting the machine running, I head to the kitchen to load the dishwasher like a woman on a mission.
A guy a little younger than Mackinlay stands inside, leaning on the kitchen counter. He pushes off and extends a hand when he sees me.
“Hi. Reed, Mack’s younger brother. You must be Grace. Ruby told me all about you.”
“Oh, hi. Yes, I met your wife last week. Thank her again for helping me out with this job, will you?” I give Mackinlay the side-eye.
He also glances at Mackinlay, who rolls his eyes. Reed turns to me and smiles, the biggest megawatt smile I have ever seen. His green eyes are identical to his mother’s. He seems nice.
“Don’t let this surly prick give you any shit, Gracie. If he does, give it back, and more some.”
Gracie. Nobody ever calls me that.
It’s so casual, just running out of his mouth. The charisma on this guy... makes Mr. Rattlesnake here seem downright mean. I tamp down the amusement that rises with that thought and give Reed a nod. He smiles at me again and turns to Mackinlay.
“I’ll finish that fencing and shift the eastern mob of weaners today. Come back tomorrow to check the water, okay, buddy?”
“Sure, gunny, whatever you say.”
Reed shakes his head and slaps his shoulder before offering one last smile in my direction. I decide I like Reed. And Ruby. I can see they make a stellar couple. Even from the small part of R & R Ranch that I saw, they have built something incredible.
“I’m going to duck into Lewistown and pick up some groceries. Do you need anything? Or want to tag along?” I offer Mackinlay. He waves a hand over his shoulder as he heads for the sofa for the umpteenth time since I’ve been here. He is the embodiment of wallowing. I know recovery is slow and his pain gets the better of him at times, but all this moping surely isn’t helping. My annoyance fades out, letting empathy in for a moment.
“You know, I still get lost in town, believe it or not. Could you tag along?”
He stills, halfway to sitting, and shoots me a look I can’t read.
“It would be quicker if you came. Please?” I worry my bottom lip through my teeth.
His nostrils flare as he straightens up. “Fine, but next time, get a ride with Harry or Ma.”
“Thanks,” I say softly, not able to help the smile that is itching to stretch my face.
Now I only need to fake being lost in a town the size of a postage stamp. It will be worth it to get Mackinlay out of this house. Lord knows how long he’s been inside these four walls.
“Come on, we can take Blue.” I swipe up my keys and phone.
“Blue?” He pulls on a cap, leaning on one crutch. His indigo eyes drill into me. Even with the attitude, and the moods he runs through, I can tell the real Mackinlay is in there somewhere. I would bet my last dollar he’s more like his younger brother than the cranky, stubborn ass he is right now.
“My car. I’m not driving yours.”
“What’s wrong with my truck?” He straightens. Apparently, everything I do and say is an affront.
“Too big.” I wave a hand at him.
We make our way to the tree Blue is parked under, and I open the passenger door for Mackinlay as he makes it a moment later.
“I’m not folding myself into three to fit into that tiny-ass car, Grace.”
I snatch one of his crutches. I don’t even care if he can’t fit. Serves him damn right.
He shakes his head at me.
“You’ll fit.” I give him a sardonic smile.
He sighs and lowers himself onto the passenger seat, gripping the door with white knuckles. With a groan, he’s in the VW. When his bad leg is securely inside and clear of the door, I shut it and walk to the driver’s side. Dropping into the seat, I grab my purse from the back seat and toss my phone into it.
“What on earth possessed you to buy a tiny blue tin can for a vehicle?” Mackinlay’s frown is almost comical as he sits cramped up in the passenger’s seat.
“Blue is not a tin can. She’s sweet. She’s a classic. Size isn’t everything.”
His face is flat.
The second the words register, heat flushes my face.
After Joel, the last thing I want is another man. Let alone be considering size. Or talking to this ass about anything related to that...
Good Lord. “I, um?—”
A half smile cracks over his face.
I brush a stray strand of hair from my face. That’s the first time I’ve seen anything but a scowl or hard concentration on this man’s face. Much less an almost smile.
I narrow my eyes at him, and he snaps his gaze toward the windshield.
Right. Time to go, Grace.
My smile grows exponentially as I start Blue up and roll down the driveway. He stares out the window, turned away from me.
“It’s okay, you know,” I offer.
After a beat, he says, without turning back, “What is?”
“To have happiness after everything.”
He scoffs and stares out his window. The tension that now hangs between us ratchets up in his shoulders as he whispers, “No, it’s not.”
He can’t honestly believe that. Every night I cry into my pillow until sleep drags me under. For the things I lost back in Mississippi, for the life I threw away before I ever reached Raymond. I have come to peace with the decisions I made. I can’t take them back, and punishing myself for them, or feeling sorry for myself, won’t improve things. I can only go from here. Am I still grieving what I went through? Still trying to wrap my head around how I got so far down that dark, sordid rabbit hole? You betcha. But I’m not in that makeshift house anymore. I’m clinging to that particular fact, every minute of every day that passes.
“Keep to the right,” Mackinlay says harshly, breaking my train of thought.
I move Blue over a little. I’m not used to driving on unmarked gravel roads. Guess he’s right, we’d drifted to the center. Not exactly safe.
“You never answered me before,” I say, looking ahead at the road.
“About what?”
“Did you need anything in town?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.”
I turn onto the highway that leads to town. Blue rattles up to a good speed and we make it in under an hour. By the time I pull over on Main Street, I can see the unease written all over Mackinlay’s face. He’s been in one position too long. Cramped in the small seat space. It’s possible this is a bad idea.
Maybe he shouldn’t be such an ass.
I kill the engine and move to his door. He has it open and is leaning forward before I have a chance to help. “Got it!” he snaps.
“I need to grab my purse,” I say with a huff.
I shift to the right and lean past his shoulder and pluck my bag from behind the seat. It’s when warmth presses against my arm that I still. He didn’t move.
I’m pressed into his shoulder. I glance back. His jaw is tense. His hands gripping the door and off his crutches. Dark blue eyes swing up to mine. Shit.
“I, ah—” I swipe up the bag and scramble backward away from the car. Without hesitation, Mackinlay pushes up out of Blue and steps clear of the door, slamming it behind him. I step around him and lock the door with the key. I push on my sunglasses and tug out my hair band, letting my long hair fall around my shoulders in soft waves.
“Where did you need to go?” he asks, gaze shifting over me. For the first time, his words aren’t harsh. No order or a rebuttal.
It catches me off guard a little and I chew my bottom lip, glancing up and down the street. I need the grocery store. The pharmacy. Maybe the craft shop...
“Groceries first.”
He waves a hand to my left, and we walk down the street, past the shops of Lewistown. Past an Italian restaurant, Mama’s Place. A gift and craft shop sits across the street, and a convenience store one block down. As we walk, people smile, some say hello. A guy around Mackinlay’s age in scrubs walks past, blond hair and pale blue eyes that widen as he forces a smile. “Rawlins, you back already?”
“Morley,” Mackinlay grunts, not slowing down.
What the hell was that about?
We cross the street, and an older lady walks up to us, arms open, her smile topped with tearful eyes. “Mackinlay! Your mama told us you were back. Thank heavens you came home to us in one piece, sweet boy.” She pats his face. It goes from pleasant to devastation. His jaw feathers and I steal the older lady’s attention to let him catch a breath.
“Hi! I’m Grace.” I hold out my hand.
“Oh, hon, are you his girlfriend?” Her eyes widen some more but delight floods in a second later.
I laugh and shake my head. “No, I’m the help.”
She pats my hand now and glances to Mackinlay. “Well, young man, you make sure your help is looked after, you hear.”
He nods, and I can tell he wants to roll his eyes at her. I tamp down a smile and say goodbyes for the both of us and take off toward the store.
“Thanks,” he mutters.
“Sure,” I breathe. He stares at me as we amble down the sidewalk. I can see the war in his eyes over his visceral reaction to this whole situation and the man that exists under all the hurt. I know what it looks like. It stared back at me in the rearview mirror for days. It still does, when my guard comes down.
We do a quick round collecting groceries and leave with half a cart of fruit, veggies, and meat. A few snacks for me. On the way back down the street, we pass the craft shop. I peer through the window, hands holding the cart as I push it in front of me. My companion is getting tired, I can tell by his now sloppy gait. Time to go home.
“You want to go in?” he asks, nodding to the craft shop.
“No, we should get back.”
He walks on without a word, leaving me behind. Guess my quota of reasonable Mackinlay just ran out. Back at the car, he leans on Blue as I unlock the car and load the groceries. When passenger and purchases are all secure, I start up Blue and head for the town limits. Halfway down the highway, and thirty minutes into our drive home, he turns to me with a scowl. “Didn’t wind up lost once.”
“Surprising, did last time,” I lie.
“No, you didn’t. Next time you want company, phone a friend.”
I glance at him with annoyance twisting my face, mouth gaping. Ass!
“Couldn’t be any worse than spending hours with you.”
And like that, we are back to square one. Him, angry and taking it out on me. Me, giving it back, when it’s the last thing I want to do. It’s not what either of us need right now. But I can’t seem to override the mean bone he brings out in me.
My phone pings. I ignore it.
Forty minutes and a trillion annoyed thoughts that I keep to myself later, we pull into the driveway of the ranch, and he’s out of the car like it’s on fire. He wobbles his way back inside on the crutches. I sigh, letting my forehead meet the steering wheel. It’s going to be a long few months.
Despite all that lies between us—the ocean of hurt and trauma, and the eggshells I constantly dance on—I feel safe here. I feel grounded. For the first time in my life, I have purpose and money of my own. Nope, he can throw whatever he needs to at me. I’m not going to give in and break. Not going to throw the towel in and leave. I need this job, as much as he needs an attitude adjustment.
My phone rings, vibrating in my bag. I pull it out and answer.
“Grace, how’s things going?” Louisa asks.
“Hi, Mrs. Rawlins. Things are going, ah... well, they’re?—”
Her laugh cuts me off. “Oh, hon, I am fully aware of the moods my son goes through. He will come out the other side of this, I promise you. Hang in there. He needs you. Stubborn ass will never admit it. But his dark needs your light, if you catch my drift?”
How does this woman put so much stock and trust into someone she barely knows? A little of my annoyance fades. Partially afraid of another round of someone else’s darkness. Mostly grateful I have a roof over my head and a wage. But my gut sinks, clogging my throat, as my eyes burn.
“Grace? Are you still there?”
I suck in a breath, wiping away unshed tears from my eyes. “Yes, still here.”
“Lawson, Mack’s older brother, is coming home for a few days to stay with him. He’ll help you if you need a comrade in arms, so to speak.”
“Backup. That sounds great,” I say, too quietly.
“Sweetheart, I know you have been through it, too. A mother notices those things. We have your back, please know that.”
Now the tears stream down my face freely. “Thank you,” I choke out.
“And when you’re ready to talk about it, any one of us is more than willin’ to listen.”
“Uh huh.” I can’t manage more words.
“Now, deep breath, hon, and get my boy off that damn sofa. He needs sunshine, you hear?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
So, prying the sofa king from his kingdom is going to be a regular occurrence. Yay for me.
“And Grace”—she pulls in a breath—“thank you.”
“Yep.” My words are nowhere to be found.
The line goes dead. I haul air into my lungs like I’ve been drowning and just broke through the water’s surface. It burns and replenishes at the same time. After a moment to fix my hair and dry my face, I cart the groceries inside. Dumping the bags on the counter, I start packing everything away. The TV blares as Mackinlay sits on the sofa, mindlessly flicking through channels.
After all is packed away, I drop on the seat beside him. He startles before giving me another scowl. I do nothing but return the stare, and his brows lower. “What?”
“Lawson is coming to stay. Where do you want him?”
He turns back to the TV, snapping a finger over the remote. The TV goes black. “In New York, where he belongs.” He rises to wobbly feet and stalks down the hall as fast as those crutches can go.
Well, that went well.