Chapter 16 #2
“Why lie, Mac? I was proud of you for doing the right thing for the right reasons—helping someone in need, helping someone who couldn’t take control of a horrifying event.
” He parked his fists on his hips before exhaling through his teeth.
Staring at a point on the ground somewhere between them, he quietly asked, “Why lie about any of this?”
Mackenzie nearly came out of her skin when the answer came from behind her.
“Love makes a woman do crazy things.” Stella Malone, Kenzie’s mother, stepped out of the shadows, climbing the fence to sit next to her daughter. A look of contrition decorated the older woman’s face, emphasizing the fine lines that good makeup and bright smiles usually hid.
Kenzie glanced between her mom and dad, confused. “When did you come down from the house?”
Stella’s shoulders rose and fell with feminine grace. “When I heard your father laughing. He rarely laughs like that. I wanted to know what was happening and be part of it.” She reached out and took Kenzie’s grimy hand. “Appears I got here a little late.”
“I’m glad you came,” Kenzie managed before the first fat tear broke over her lower lashes.
She rubbed at it with undiluted aggression.
“I’m so sick of crying over this. It seems as if that’s all I’ve done all day.
” She drew a shaky breath and, clutching her mom’s hand, forced herself to lift her face to her father’s.
“I’m so incredibly sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to do anything more than secure the right to save Gizmo like Ty asked me to do.
I know what it’s like to lose your hope.
” Her voice broke, and she had to clear her throat before continuing, “I didn’t want that for Ty.
Beyond that, I don’t have any excuse for my behavior. ”
Her dad simply stood there, his chin tucked to his chest, refusing to meet her eyes. When he spoke, his voice had dropped two solid octaves and gone gravelly. “Do you love him, Mackenzie?”
“Does it matter?” The question could have been rhetorical. It wasn’t. And her parents knew it.
“Get on up to the house and get cleaned up. I want you to stay with us for a few days.” Spinning on his heel, he started for the barn.
Her mother’s hand tightened around hers.
“Does it matter?” Kenzie asked again, louder this time.
Jack Malone answered without slowing, without turning around. “It changes everything.”
THE SUN WAS going to melt Ty’s brain. That or it would cause the useless gray matter to spontaneously combust given the level of alcohol he had consumed last night.
He rarely drank and never to excess, but last night had been his major exception.
There was no doubt he’d come close to pickling his organs.
A pitiful groan sounded from somewhere near the foot of the bed.
Ty stretched one leg and was met with a flexible but solid object.
The toe punt resulted in a muffled, “Ow. Quit it.” Bedding rustled. “Man, you have the bluntest toes. They’re like little battering rams.”
Ty blinked slowly, forcing his eyes to adjust until he managed to squint in the face of certain death. His mouth was so full of cotton he expected he could have spun yarn straight out of it.
At least then I’d do something useful with my piehole.
“What happened?” a different, deeper voice asked.
Cade.
Ty lifted his head, shocked at the volume the drumming between his ears immediately escalated to. Wow, he mouthed, gripping his temples. “Shh.” At the hissed command, the invisible musicians banged harder on their drums.
If they were within reach, he’d pinch their little heads off.
Bastards.
As if it were their fault.
Why am I thinking of them as sentient beings?
Refocusing, he realized Eli had crashed along the foot of the bed while Ty had ended up crossways.
He rolled over, and the entire room pitched.
He slammed his eyelids closed, gripped the edge of the mattress and swallowed repeatedly.
Bravery didn’t return to him for several minutes. He hated throwing up.
When the worst of the spinning nausea passed, he chanced a peek through half-slit lids to find Cade curled up on the floor.
The larger man had fallen asleep again, but he wouldn’t stay that way.
Sunlight crept across the floor with every progressive tick of the clock’s hand.
In less than half an hour, Cade would be hit full in the face with the morning sun.
Ty squinted harder. “At least I won’t suffer alone.”
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee crept through the room.
He groaned his appreciation.
His brothers responded in kind.
He tried to grin but his face almost broke, and the drummers in his head went wild.
“Rise and shi— Hell’s bells, boys.” Reagan sounded choked. “It smells like a bar down here.”
A booted foot crunched over what he assumed were peanut hulls, adding a thundering bass line to the chorus in his head.
“What did you three do last night?” she demanded.
Ty threw an arm over his face and mumbled, “Tried to figure out women. Apparently the answer does not lie at the bottom of a bourbon bottle. Who knew?”
Eli must have moved because the mattress shifted. “No shouting. Have a little respect for the dead.”
A soft feminine cough preceded a second woman’s voice. Emma. “Cade?”
“What Eli said. Dead. No shouting.”
Emma laughed softly. “You know, I figured you’d cut yourself off before it got this bad.”
“Would have, but there’s apparently a man code. I got my card last night,” he answered, a little pride woven through the evident misery.
Ty blindly held out a hand. “I’m not married to you or getting married to you, so I get coffee first.”
“Why?” Eli groused, sitting up and cradling his head with a pained look.
“Because you, my brothers, are going to get feminine sympathy. I’m going to get—”
“Your ass kicked,” said a stern male voice he didn’t recognize.
His brothers staggered to their feet and put themselves between him and the door.
Always with the saving me. Kenzie was right. I’m the freaking damsel of the Covington clan.
The thought of her ripped the painful wound of the truth open all over again. He’d drunk to forget. Apparently, “amnesia in a bottle” was temporary and not only caused physical hangovers but provided a sustainable fuel source for emotional ones.
Gripping the iron headboard for support, he rose to his feet. One look at the man in the doorway was all he needed to realize the shit storm that was about to rain down on him. “Good morning, Mr. Malone.”