Chapter 3
THREE
Iwas surprised in the morning when ice cubes were pressed to my sides.
When I yelled and squeals of delight filled the room, little arms wrapping around my neck, I realized it wasn’t ice, but feet.
Micah and Pip were both giggling like little psychopaths as Tristan snickered from where he was flipping channels.
“Why are you here?” I asked the spawn of Satan. I obviously missed they were evil the night before. Maybe sleep deprivation had finally melted my brain.
“We came to pick you up—you and Uncle Cyrus—to go to Nana and Grandpa’s.”
What? Family? More family? Was he high?
I tossed off the comforter, put it back over Pip and Micah, then went into the kitchen, where I smelled coffee.
“Good morning,” Lyn greeted me as I staggered to her brother first, to kiss him, then to the coffee pot.
“Ma’am, your children are evil.”
She cackled. “Tell me they did not put their freezing little feet on you.”
“They did.” I glared at her.
“God,” she said and sighed, “they are one hundred percent in love with you.”
I grunted.
Cy walked over to me as I was pouring coffee. “How did you sleep, cowboy?”
“Ain’t a cowboy no more,” I said, sipping the black coffee.
“You’ll always be my cowboy,” he replied, gravel-voiced and sleepy, placing soft kisses along the underside of my jaw. I couldn’t stop the rumbling purr that came out of me.
Lyn made a noise, but I couldn’t be bothered to look at her. I was far too interested in her brother and his hands roaming under my T-shirt.
“This weekend,” he began, fingers tracing over the muscles of my abdomen, “I promised my folks I’d drive up to their place in Half Moon Bay because my brother and his family are spending the holidays with his wife’s family this year, so we won’t see them again until after the New Year.”
“Okay.”
“Lyn and the kids were supposed to go as well, of course.”
“And my husband.” She sighed. “Don’t forget I was supposed to have a husband.”
“That ain’t your fault, darlin’,” I reminded her.
“I know, but still.”
I put the coffee down, though I needed it to wake up, because I needed Cy more. The allure of the man was overwhelming. “Well, you should go.” I yawned, wrapping my arms around him, drawing him close. “I can stay here.”
“Oh no,” Lyn chimed in from behind me. “I want you to spend more time with the boys, Weber, and I want to talk to you about Micah.”
“I don’t wanna be in the way,” I told her, smoothing a hand down Cy’s back, pressing him tighter against me.
“You won’t be, I promise. Believe me, when it comes to our parents, both my brother and I will need you as a buffer.”
“Is that right?” I asked Cy, tipping his chin up so I could see the cognac-colored eyes for myself.
“Yes.” He sighed. “My father and I are different kind of men, and my mother worries about me incessantly.”
I grinned. “So you get that from her, do you?”
“What? I never worry about anything.”
“You know you’ll turn to stone if you lie like that.”
“What do I ever worry about?”
I arched an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t count. Anyone in their right mind would worry about you.”
I chuckled, kissed him, then let him go, leaning against the counter and smiling at Lyn. “Now that I got some caffeine in me, please explain about Micah.”
She sucked in her breath. “A little over a year ago, he was at home with my mother-in-law because he didn’t want to go to Tristan’s soccer game with the rest of us, and she had a heart attack and died.
It was fast. She had an acute pulmonary embolism, and she was gone in a matter of seconds.
Micah called 911, and that was the last time he’s spoken. ”
Jesus. “He was with her alone until the ambulance came?”
“Yes.”
“And how long was that?”
“Maybe ten minutes or so.”
“Poor kid.” Those minutes must’ve seemed like a lifetime to Micah.
She nodded. “Yes. He hasn’t uttered a word since.”
“He laughs, though.”
“Yes. He laughs and cries and sneezes and coughs. It’s not physical or medical. He simply won’t speak. And we’ve tried hypnosis, we’ve tried—I mean, my husband and me, before he bailed with the nanny—we tried everything.”
Her eyes filled and her breath caught, and instinctively, I hugged her, gently pressing her to my heart and patting her back.
“Any man that leaves his children is good for nothing, you hear me? A man can walk out on his wife, or his husband, and be forgiven, but a man who leaves his children ain’t one.
I suspect he will come cryin’ back to you once he figures out the nanny ain’t half the woman you are.
When he comes back, you got yourself a decision to make. ”
She clung tight, breathing me in. “God, Weber, I so get why Cy’s in—”
“Lyn!” he barked.
“Oh,” she whimpered, “I have not been held like this in forever.”
I tilted her head up so she could see my face. “I am so sorry to hear that. Bein’ held is one of the best parts of havin’ a mate, ain’t it?”
“It should be, yes.” She wiped her eyes and stepped away from me.
“Okay,” I said, “so now I understand. Micah didn’t save his grandmother, so he feels like he failed.”
“Yes.” She was crying again. “That’s exactly what his therapist thinks.”
“He feels he could have done somethin’.”
She nodded.
“Okay.” I exhaled, then turned away from her and yelled, “I’m coming back in there, and there better not be anybody in my bed!”
Squeals of laughter followed, and Lyn said, “Jesus, Weber, I know I said this before, but they’re totally in love.”
“He’s addictive,” Cy said under his breath, but I heard him.
“I’m coming!” I yelled again.
I left the kitchen, and when I got to the bedroom, even Tristan was under the covers, the bed moving so hard it looked like it was rolling under the comforter.
I lay down, complained about how lumpy the bed was, as the laughter got louder and louder.
When I threw the comforter off and yelled aha!
they all screamed at once. Diving down in slow motion, I made sure to miss them completely.
They all piled on top of me once I was sprawled out, and the bed was a disaster area after that.
We only stopped horsing around when Cy called us all out for breakfast.
Luckily for me, Cyrus had washed, dried, and folded all my clothes before I woke up, so I had something clean to wear. But that wasn’t enough, apparently, because he wanted me to agree to let him pick me up a few things.
“Like?” I asked, watching him shove clothes into an overnight bag for the weekend.
“Underwear,” he teased me. “T-shirts, socks. You love to run. What are you planning to run in while you’re here? I didn’t find any shorts or joggers. You don’t even have any shoes other than your boots, which have holes in them.”
“My running shoes gave up the ghost last month, and I haven’t had money to replace ’em. But you’re sure you didn’t see no shorts?”
He squinted at me. “You think I somehow missed them?”
That wasn’t likely. There wasn’t a lot in that backpack at the moment. I’d been a bit thinner than usual money-wise lately. Even small, simple things had been beyond my budget. “Well, yanno, maybe I should just stay here while you all—”
“No. There’s a mall on the way out of town. Just don’t give me any crap and let me get you some staples, okay? Please.”
I shrugged. “As long as I can pay you back.”
“But if you pay me back, then we’re on your budget, not mine, and I hate that.”
“This is your only option,” I said flatly. “Either I keep the receipt so I know what I owe you, or we’re not goin’.”
“Why? Why do only you get a say?”
“Because I’m a goddamn grown-up, that’s why,” I snapped. “For crissakes, Cy, why are we even fightin’ about this?”
“Stop,” he snarled back, fuming. “You always do this. You always turn it into a money thing, and it’s not. This has nothing to do with money and everything to do with your stupid fucking pride.”
“You do not take care of me,” I told him, shaking my head. “I take care of me. Period.”
“No, not period,” he almost yelled, which surprised me.
He usually gave in, afraid I’d leave, and I played that card many a time, which, truthfully, wasn’t great, threatening him to get him to back down.
But this time was different because of his sister and the boys.
He knew he had me. I had given my word I’d help her, and my honor would never let me leave.
“You’re not going anywhere, at least not for two weeks, so if I want you to have new jeans since yours all have holes in them, I’ll get them for you. Whatever I want, I’ll get, and you’ll just take it because you have to.”
“I ain’t no doll for you to dress.”
“Why do you always have to fight with me?” he roared, stalking from the room, sputtering with fury.
I sat down hard on the end of the bed and waited. Minutes later he was back. I arched an eyebrow.
“No one ever makes me as angry as you do.”
I grinned. “No one else even makes you angry at all, I reckon.”
He thought about it a minute, and the look I got, full of amazement, made me laugh.
“Jesus, that’s true. You’re the only one who can get a rise out of me.”
I couldn’t stifle the snickering. “Come here.”
“You make me crazy,” he muttered like he was in pain.
“Please c’mere,” I said with a chuckle. The man was adorable.
“Let me get you some things, all right? Not a lot. I won’t go nuts.”
“Swear.”
“I do.”
I waved him over.
He ran and leaped, and I went down under a hundred and sixty-five pounds of very happy, carved, toned neurosurgeon.
In Lyn’s huge-ass boat of an SUV, I stretched out in the back as Cyrus rode shotgun.
Since Cy said my boots needed to be resoled—and he was right, they really did—we dropped them off on the way, then drove to the mall with me in a pair of rubber galoshes, which was all they had to offer at his cobbler. The first order of business was to get me some new footwear.