Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
B rad cancelled his Wednesday evening Emi date. Again.
Not that Mak minded. By the time they made it home from counseling, with a quick stop at the coffeeshop for a treat and some decompression time, a short nap for Emi, and dinner, Mak was exhausted and ready to go to bed herself.
Instead she and Emi worked a puzzle on the coffee table while Sam watched an old black-and-white movie and pointed out puzzle pieces he somehow spotted from his recliner.
Once Emi was bathed and put to bed, Mak returned to the kitchen to finish the dishes and check that Sam had in fact taken his medicine.
“You upset your ex didn’t show again?”
Sam voiced the low question from his chair, and she swung around and leaned against the counter to face him. “No. Not really. I mean, I hate it for Emi, but I can’t say she’s missing out on much.”
Sam nodded, lips pursed. “Got to agree with that. You have a good talk with the doc today?”
Sam had scoffed at first when she’d mentioned the pediatrician’s recommendation for counseling, but after telling him that she and Emi were now both going and it seemed to help, he’d accepted the news. “Yeah, it was good.” Hard. Impossibly difficult. But good.
“You ever want to talk, I make a pretty good listener, too,” the man said in a gruff voice.
Mak sensed Sam was uncomfortable but sincere with his offer, and smiled. “Thank you, Sam. The same goes to you. You’re facing a lot, and I know you’re tough as nails, but…it can’t be easy.”
He lifted a hand and scratched his head. “Might be different if I was younger, but I’ve had a good life. I just want to see you and Lil Bit settled before I go. If I worry about anything, it’s that.”
Her heart squeezed at his words, and she crossed the room to the chair and leaned over the recliner, hugging Sam from behind. “You don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”
Sam patted her arm, voice thick as he said, “Can’t help it. I do.”
She squeezed him tighter and fought off the surge of tears. “We both need a distraction. What do you want to do?”
“Got any good booze hidden in your room?”
She laughed too loud with a sleeping child in the house and kissed his cheek. “I don’t. But I can make a run if you want me to,” she said, grinning. Dying men deserved their drink of choice, no matter the day or night.
“Nah. Might pick some up for another night, though.”
“You got it,” she said, willing to let the man have a few off-limit drinks, given they would be his last, short of a miracle. “Next time I’m out, I’ll stop. What do you want?”
“Mm. Good Kentucky bourbon sounds nice. Maybe a cigar too.”
She waggled her finger at him. “Don’t press your luck.” The cigar would not help his lungs and breathing issues due to the mass.
“Just the bourbon then,” he countered quickly, as though he was afraid she’d deny him the treat after trying to sneak in the smoke.
Mak walked over to the couch and picked up the sketchbook she’d set aside that morning, settling in to keep Sam company. As much as she longed for bed, she sensed the man’s need for a companion tonight. Like she wasn’t the only one sorting through heavy thoughts.
“What are you working on?”
She turned the now open sketchbook around and showed him. “A few design ideas since the holidays are coming up.”
“You need to open that bakery of yours, girlie.”
“One day,” she said, coloring in the miniature gingerbread man atop the cupcake. “Until then, I’ll dream about it and fix you all the cakes you want.”
She felt Sam’s stare on her as she continued to draw the designs she hoped to one day make, Zoey’s words in her head.
Choose.
Right now? She chose this. A quiet night at home with her uncle and a sleeping girl tucked safely in her bed as she sketched to her heart’s content.
After a while, she glanced up at Sam and saw him look away from her quickly before staring down at his phone, a deep frown lining his face. “Is something wrong?”
“No, honey. Just thinking.”
“You’re frowning awfully hard,” she teased. “An old girlfriend giving you a hard time?”
Sam huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Naw. Come over here and show me those pictures of yours.”
Finn swallowed hard and called himself all kinds of a fool as he drove slowly down Sam’s driveway the following evening.
He’d told himself to forget Hudson’s threat and leave Makayla alone. To give her time to decide if she wanted to go riding with no pressure from him. If she didn’t, that was his hint to leave her be.
But then Sam had texted last night and invited him over for dinner, and he couldn’t make himself say no.
Mak had said they were friends, so why wouldn’t he go? He and Sam were friends too, and he needed to be neighborly.
As to Mak… It wasn’t like he expected more from her. Not when he had a good idea of how things would end even if they did somehow make it across the friend zone.
Maybe he was as pessimistic as his brothers claimed, but he’d been down the dating road before. Mak intrigued him more than any woman had, but experience had taught him better than to get his hopes up.
Still, something pulled him to that old house like a moth to a flame, and it had nothing to do with his intention to stay friendly.
So many women played games. They liked the idea of him because he was a decent looking guy who owned a solid, lucrative business and was a partner in the many businesses Blackwell Enterprises owned.
He looked good on paper. Plenty of money in the bank. Appealed to them physically—so long as he didn’t open his mouth and try to speak.
A couple of the women he’d dated had made it clear they liked the package, but they had no interest in what was inside. In who he really was. When he was younger, he’d been fine with the arrangement at first—much like Hud—but it hadn’t taken long for him to discover he hated being treated like a mute object.
The women of his past had always ended up making an excuse to end things, or cheated on him or flat-out ghosted him when it came to dealing with his stutter in a public setting.
He embarrassed them, and their feminine ego couldn’t handle having their man be a weak link in their public persona.
After a while, he’d just stopped trying to date because it wasn’t worth it—and he couldn’t help but believe with time, Mak would feel the same way toward him, which was why she’d set the boundary right from the start. At least she’d been honest and upfront about it. Even though she was curious enough to engage in that kiss.
She’d apologized for the way her ex had treated him, but that was the tip of the iceberg in the scheme of things. He believed people grew pickier as they grew older, less likely to tolerate things that bothered them, and as such, they chose their friend group and dates more carefully.
Someone like him?
People liked to think as adults they’d grown out of such petty judgments, but he’d experienced it far too many times for that to be true.
Actions spoke louder than words, and in this, he was a card-carrying member of the freak club. An adult who couldn’t function publicly wasn’t highly sought-after. He wasn’t one of his smooth-talking brothers who could schmooze with anyone and everyone, anywhere.
He stayed on his farm, worked his business and showed up for his family, but that was the extent of his life. Maybe he was existing more than living, but some things couldn’t be helped.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Why was he torturing himself with thoughts of Mak? Especially after she’d made her wishes known?
The closer he got to Sam’s house, the slower he drove, his mind filled with warnings as he crawled along the long driveway that ran along the fence line between the two properties.
A part of him felt compelled to keep trying because if he didn’t, Hudson would go after Mak in a heartbeat, just to bust his chops, if for no other reason.
Hudson wasn’t what Mak needed, though. He was too young, too into playing the field still. Not the type for a single mom of a young child.
But was that to say that he was?
Better than Hud, he thought with a scowl. He might not be able to speak properly, but at least he didn’t play women. Hud didn’t take relationships seriously, and Mak wasn’t the casual type.
She was picket fences and cupcakes. A woman who wore her heart on her sleeve for the world to see. To hurt.
And he’d never want her to get her feelings hurt on his behalf because someone—like her ex—called out his stutter and made her feel less than because of being with him.
Finn muttered a curse beneath his breath.
What was he doing?
He should’ve turned Sam down. Should’ve said no. Shouldn’t have kissed her. That would’ve been smarter.
And what if her ex was there?
He wasn’t sure what the visitation arrangements were for coparenting, but he hated the fact Emi’s father was a bona fide bully. Both for her sake and her mother’s.
The truck ran out of the tree line and into the open area by the house.
Emi came running out the door onto the porch, a mile-wide grin on her sweet face. Sam wasn’t far behind her, and the man lifted a hand in greeting when he saw Finn.
Since he couldn’t turn around now that he’d been seen, Finn made himself park and get out.
On the walk to the porch, it was easy to imagine Mak as a girl since Emi resembled her mama so much. Emi practically vibrated with energy and happiness. All big blue eyes and tousled curls.
“Finn! Look what I made at Bea’s house!”
Surprise rippled through him at the news. He’d seen Emi playing with his young nieces at Hud’s party, but to hear she’d spent more time with them?
The friendship bracelets on her tiny wrist were a colorful assortment of beads and letters. He ran his finger over them lightly and smiled down at her from where she stood atop the steps. “Pretty.”
Surprisingly, the word came out clear. But then, Emi was a child—no pressure there—and not her gorgeous mama.
Emi grinned at him and held out her hand. “Mommy’s making dinner. Are you going to eat with us?”
He glanced at Sam. The old man had invited him, but had he not told Mak and Emi?
“Course he is,” Sam said. “Come on in.”
Finn met the man’s gaze and saw the challenge sparkling in Sam’s faded blue eyes, similar to Mak and Emi’s gorgeous, blazing blue but nowhere near as vibrant.
Uneasy, Finn moved toward the steps and up them, all the while hoping Sam wasn’t springing him as a surprise on Mak.
Something smelled delicious, and his stomach growled the moment it hit his senses.
After the riders had packed up and left, he’d gone about the daily chores required. There was always something that had to be done. The animals needed to be fed, groomed and tended to so they stayed people-friendly and photogenic for paying guests. There were stalls to be mucked out and reservations confirmed.
Since he couldn’t talk to people on the phone, he used an automated service that allowed people to book available dates, and then he double checked the schedule, weather etc., and sent confirmations or had one of his employees do it over the phone if a client called with questions.
The screen door gently banged shut behind him and he followed Emi and Sam through the house to the kitchen. The table had only been set for three.
“Gonna need another plate,” Sam said loudly. “I invited Finn for dinner.”
Mak startled and turned, yanking earbuds from her ears.
“Oh, hi. I thought it was a package delivery. I mean, of course you’re welcome to join us. There’s plenty.”
Mak wore her awkwardness, like the blush suddenly appearing in her cheeks, drawing Sam’s raised eyebrows and searching look split between the two of them.
The man grunted softly, a smile quirking his lips up as he ushered Emi out of the kitchen toward the nearby table and away from them.
Finn dipped his head in greeting and took an appreciative look because he couldn’t help himself. Mak wore leggings and a long T-shirt knotted at one hip that draped over her cute behind. She looked pretty. Then again, she always did.
He liked that she wasn’t one of those women with thick makeup and flashy clothes. Her simple style worked for her, and she was even more beautiful because of it.
Mak avoided his gaze and moved toward a cabinet, stretching up to retrieve another plate. The cabinets were normal height, but her compact body couldn’t quite reach.
He crossed the distance in two steps and snagged a plate, the move putting him in close range as she spun to face him, looking a bit wide-eyed and flushed. Like she hadn’t been able to get their kisses out of her head, either.
Sam and Emi were settling in at the table, talking about her day of fun and ignoring them for the most part, so he didn’t step away.
“I’ll get utensils.”
She slid sideways along the countertop away from him and opened a drawer while he closed the cabinet. She handed him the flatware right as a timer went off on the stove.
“Have a seat. I’ve got this.”
Mak gave him a quick glance before she silenced the timer and grabbed mitts.
“Mak makes really good lasagna. You’re in for a treat,” Sam said from the table. “Come sit down.”
“Sit by me,” Emi said as she flashed him an impish grin.
Finn moved to the table, loving the fact they actually sat down in the evening and ate together as a family.
His family had done that growing up even after their parents had passed, until work and school schedules were too chaotic and misaligned for dinners together to happen.
Finn sat down beside Emi and winked at the sweetheart, though he still hated that Sam hadn’t informed Mak that he’d invited a guest.
Mak served the lasagna and salad, and Emi kept up a steady stream of chatter about how fun it had been to go play at Bea’s house. Apparently another playdate was set up for the near future.
Mak stayed quiet, interacting when asked a direct question but not offering anything otherwise. Sam and Emi were the talkers, and between the two of them, things were rarely quiet.
By dinner’s end, Sam had them all chuckling due to his grumpy complaints about traffic on the island when they’d gone to pick up Emi from Brooks’s house, and Emi was looking sleepy over where she now sat coloring in front of the television.
Mak excused herself and her daughter to give Emi a bath before bed, and Finn and Sam moved out onto the porch after clearing the table.
“Mak’s awfully tongue-tied tonight.” Sam shot him a look from the rocking chair closest to the door.
“You didn’t tell her I was coming,” Finn said softly as he took the second rocker and settled in.
“Slipped my mind is all,” Sam said. “She always makes plenty anyway. She’s a better baker than cook, but her lasagna is a favorite.”
“It was delicious,” Finn said.
“Son, I asked you to dinner because I need to talk to you. I hate that I’ve waited this long.”
“Something wrong?” His mind went to Mak and her ex. Had something happened?
Sam nodded. “You could say that. But I figured feeding you first was the least we could do.”
Finn frowned at the choice of words. “What’s going on, Sam?”
“Mak didn’t tell you,” Sam said softly. “I told her she could, but— I guess that birthday party for Hud wasn’t the time or place. I’m dying, Finn. Got six months at most. Maybe a few more if I’m really lucky.”
Shock rolled through Finn. He’d been aware of the fact the older man had lost weight and looked worn down and haggard, but he hadn’t realized… “I’m sorry. I d-d-didn’t know.”
Normally he didn’t stutter around Sam anymore, but the surprise… Sam was more than his neighbor. They’d been friends for years now. Ever since Finn had worked at the farm as a teenager. The old man was a mentor and father figure both.
Was that what Mak had referred to about bad things happening to good people?
It had to be. He’d thought she referenced his speech and his parents but— “That’s why they’re here with you? Staying with you? Because you’re sick?”