But how could this have happened? He and James spoke that afternoon before the band was to board the International flight that would take them across the Atlantic and safely into La Guardia Airport. They were on a reputable airline, not some rented, single-engine Beechcraft like pioneer rocker Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper. This was his worst fear incarnate knowing full well how constant international travel brought certain risks to the career he’d chosen. But to pay the ultimate price and die in a fucking plane crash?
No.
Mac could not wrap his head around this – instead, he zoned out, subconsciously ticking off famous musicians from the past who’d died the same tragic death – from soul legend Otis Redding, southern rocker Lynyrd Skynrd, and even twenty-first-century songstress Aaliyah, all of their deaths a punch to the gut when the news broke across the airwaves. Is this how their families felt when they received the same devastating news? Was this what it felt like to die a slow death away from the only family you’d ever loved?
Mac felt Nicky squeeze his shoulder from behind. “What can I do for you? Is there someone I can call? Tell me what you need, please, Mac.” Her warbled words were lilted with undeniable grief, causing him to sigh heavily. He knew she was only trying to help and almost turned around to bury his head into her chest, to have her console him in his time of need. But his instinct was to run. He needed some air – he needed to get out of there, pronto. Jerking his shoulder back, he clumsily stood, knocking the desk chair over in the process.
“Mac?” she dared to utter, her expression pained. He couldn’t bear to look at her.
“I need some fresh air. Just…give me a few minutes.” With long strides, he held his head high, walking past her as he made his way to the door. Whipping it open with brute strength, he managed to find his way to the back entrance of the kitchen through a haze of shimmering tears, his entire world going into slow motion. He was expressionless, eyeing the cooks and the wait-staff he passed along the way, images of them grinning and clapping for him seemingly odd in his current state of agony.
Stepping out into the cold evening, his breath became ragged, and he stumbled in the dark alley, edging his way along the side of the old building with one hand scraping the rough brick exterior. When he approached a large dumpster, he faltered, stepping his way around the heavy metal, and shrinking into a ball in the shadowy blackness, rocking back and forth on the asphalt. Hot tears streamed down his face, his beard soaked through, and as he looked up into the heavens with distorted vision, he could see the blinking lights of a jet sailing through the starry sky. His mind was clear enough to understand the irony of that particular moment. His beloved cousin James and his band were gone, taking their last flight into the heavens and leaving him behind – forever. A low wail rumbled its way up from the depths of his soul and out of his mouth, his face twisting in pain as he felt the final bludgeon to his heart. A part of him died that night, too – and he would never be the same.
Mac could hear several voices but kept his forehead resting on his arms across his knees. Strong hands gripped underneath his armpits and lifted him to his feet, and he could see a car approaching, the headlights blinding him and making him squint in the bright light. The numbness in his body made him weak, and the two burly men on either side of him continued to hold him up until the car came to a stop.
Beautiful Nicky quickly exited the driver’s side door, her long hair whipping around her frantic face as she spoke deliberately to the group surrounding him. He couldn’t make out what she said, content to stare at her stunning loveliness, his heart making a tiny blip in his chest. At least he’d been spared, right? He was alive and well, albeit the suffocating sadness covering him in a shroud. He should be happy his life was intact, able to live his days to the fullest – able to move on with an enchanting woman by his side and make beautiful music together. Shannon’s face suddenly eclipsed his vision, the knife in his heart twisting with indescribable torture. Did she know? How could he ever convey to the woman who was like a sister to him how sorry he was it was James who died and not him? A harsh sob escaped his lips as he fumbled, the grip under his arms strengthening. He swallowed, pressing his eyes shut, not wanting to be fully engaged, wishing them all away so he could be alone to wallow in self-pity. One of the men ducked Mac’s head through the open car door, helping him into the backseat. When Nicky crawled in on the other side, she reached for him, pulling him across her lap to protect him.
When the doors slammed shut, he heard her yell to the driver, “Go!” The car lurched forward, and as they rounded the corner onto Main Street, a string of flashbulbs went off in quick succession, the news of his band's demise inevitably hitting the small-town streets of Cold Creek like a tsunami. Clinging to Nicky’s thighs, he hid in the folds of her sweater, sobbing into her essence, thankful for her warmth and protection – her angel wings sheltering him with love.
They drove in silence for what seemed like hours, Nicky tenderly running her fingers through his hair, calming him. When the smooth road gave way to rocky terrain, he gingerly lifted his aching body to peer out the window into the cavernous night, his emotions weighing heavy on him. When the car finally stopped in front of a large, gated property, he sat all the way up.
“Where are we?” he graveled, his voice monotone. Turning his head to face her, the smile she offered seemed sincere and full of hope.
“Stone Farm.”
Chapter Twenty- Four
Nicky and Amber managed to help Mac out of the car and into the farmhouse, quick to grant his urgent request to use the restroom. The interior was cold, and Nicky turned up the thermostat on the new heating system before returning outside to help Amber with a few items.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Amber asked, clutching a small box of food at her chest.
Nicky grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the floorboard. “I’m sure. I don’t want him around any media or fans in his current state-of-mind. He needs to process things before he can talk to his manager or anyone else.”
Amber nodded in agreement. “Good call on Chris and Fiona’s place. You know the news crews will be scoping out your parent’s farm once they realize he’s been staying there with you. They’ll do anything to get a picture or a comment.” Setting the box on the kitchen counter, she turned to face Nicky. “God, girl. I can’t believe this happened.”
Swallowing a massive lump in her throat, her voice became hoarse with emotion. “I can’t either.”
Earlier, when Mac disappeared into the alley behind the restaurant, Nicky immediately went into protection mode. Tipped off by social media posts from the crowd being entertained by the famous rocker, the bar was quickly inundated with several phone calls from various news sources wanting to speak to Mac about the breaking story. Amber received one of the first calls during his performance, answering her bar phone like any other night. When the reporter made her aware of the breaking news story, she immediately went into her office to confirm the shattering news online on her work computer before showing it to Nicky.
Knowing the press would swarm the pub in a matter of minutes, the only safe place Nicky could think of was Stone Farm, Chris and Fiona’s home away from home. What started out as a crumbling, historic farm Chris bought as an investment property turned out to be a lovely getaway residence for the New York couple, recently renovated with state-of-the-art security, a gated driveway, refurbished bathrooms and updated kitchen. Chris was adamant his high-style wife not change things up too much, but realized safety was their number one priority because of her substantial wealth. Good thing they trusted Nicky enough to give her all the pertinent security password information. She was the one who usually opened the place up for them, happily stocking their fridge and pantry before their arrival every few months. Needing a safe hideout until she could get Mac settled down, Stone Farm was a no brainer, the rustic, 1800s stone abode secured with twenty-first-century technology. No reporters or news crews would be bothering them from behind the lo
cked gates, even if they got wind of where they landed.
Not wanting to freak everyone out, Nicky was grateful when Amber pulled aside a few of her most trustworthy employees and instructed them to work fast, packing up a box of food and drinks. She even had her two burly bartenders help get Mac into the car, the poor man limp with unimaginable grief. Everything happened in a matter of minutes, and when the flashbulbs of waiting paparazzi descended upon them on the streets of Cold Creek, Nicky knew she’d made the right decision for Mac.
“You’ll call my parents, right?” she confirmed with Amber, who had lit the kindling in the fireplace, the snapping and popping of flames igniting the dry wood already in place.
“Yes. I’m sure they’ve already heard about it if they’ve been watching anything on television. Have you checked your phone yet?”
Nicky shook her head. “No. I’m afraid to. My first priority is Mac.”
Amber offered an empathetic smile. “If you need anything at any time tonight, let me know. Call me in the morning with your plan, and I’ll come back and get you.”
“I will.”
The two women lingered in their final goodbye hug before Amber exited the home. Nicky stood by the front window and watched the taillights of the vehicle disappear over the steep hill toward the automatic gate, her hand shaking as she clutched the expensive curtains. When she heard the door to the downstairs bathroom open on creaky hinges, she turned to see Mac enter the space, his eyes dark and somber, and his mouth pressed in a thin line. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.
“What is this place?”
Trying to keep the conversation as normal as possible, she offered him a loving smile. “It belongs to Chris and Fiona. I thought it would be better to stay here for the night instead of my place. No one can get on the property without a gate code.”
Mac nodded and eased himself into a well-worn leather chair, staring at the glowing flames in the fireplace. “I don’t see a television unless it’s hidden.”
Nicky sighed, crossing to the sofa to sit down. There was no telling what kind of images or stories were blazing across the airwaves, and she sure as hell didn’t want him to see anything that might upset his already vulnerable state. “No television. I’m not even sure if they ever got the Wi-Fi hooked up.” Twisting her fingers in her lap, she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Amber’s staff packed up a box of food if you’re hungry, and there’s a bottle of whiskey if you’d like a drink.” Eager to help, she was ready to accommodate him with whatever she could.
“Aye. Bring me the bottle.”
Nicky grimaced. Surely, he wouldn’t consume the whole bottle tonight? But maybe that’s what he needed – to escape into drunkenness and pass out – to completely erase his mind of the catastrophe that happened today. Who was she to deny him the simple request?
Leaving him in front of the fire, she made her way into the renovated kitchen and flicked on a few more lights. She still wasn’t used to the changes Chris and Fiona made to the interior, even though they were much-needed updates. The sub-zero fridge gleamed among other high-end appliances, the surrounding marble counters immaculate under the glass tiled walls. Expensive folk art decorated the space, and an oval hanging pot rack hung over a small island where Amber had placed the box of food. Digging through an assortment of wrapped up sandwiches, chips, and boxed salads, she put the perishable items into the fridge before grabbing two highball glasses from an open concept shelf and the bottle of booze from the counter. Setting their wares on the small side table next to the sofa, she sat down and kicked off her shoes.
“I don’t need the glass,” Mac muttered, eyeing the bottle.
“Do you mind if I use one?” she responded. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her voice.
“Nae,” he mumbled miserably.
Tearing off the top of the Hillrock bottle, she efficiently poured herself a substantial glass before handing it off to Mac. Slouched in the chair, he raised the bottle to his mouth and gulped several mouthfuls of liquor before sputtering to catch his breath. Nicky didn’t say a word as she sipped the golden liquid from her glass. There really were no words to speak at the moment. The most honest thing she could do was make her presence known – to be there for him when he needed her during the lowest point of his life.
They sat silently, tipping back their whiskey every few minutes, the only sounds in the room of the crackling fire. Tucking her feet under her, she set her half-full glass on the table and leaned her weary head back on the cushion. The whiskey in her belly and the orange flames of the fire lulled her into a relaxed state, causing her eyelids to grow heavy. Stifling a yawn, she closed her eyes for just a moment before she fell fast asleep.
***
Mac eyed the whiskey bottle, still a quarter full, determined to finish every last drop. Thankful he was feeling no pain, he arose and staggered to add another log to the dwindling fire, the comfortable heat seeping into the room and warming his ruddy cheeks. Sparks shot up into the flue, the hot embers igniting the piece of timber in a flash. Turning, he observed Nicky, who was sound asleep on the couch. The peaceful look on her face was endearing, and his heart lurched in his chest, knowing how hard it must have been for her to tell him about the plane crash. A metallic taste spread across his tongue, and he knew he might throw up if he let his mind go there again, images of smoking, twisted metal, and his bandmates lifeless bodies somewhere among the rubble haunting his consciousness. Vehemently shaking his head, he gripped the fireplace mantel to find his balance, his thoughts and his mindset overwhelming him.
When he looked over his shoulder at Nicky again, his facial features softened, the sight of her serene face a healing salve on his damaged heart. Her beauty was undeniable in the flickering firelight, her hands pressed against the cushion of the sofa with her cheeks resting on top as she lay in a fetal position. He was drawn to her like no other, the love he felt for this woman pure and true. Any other woman would have run for the hills seeing him at his weakest. For her to be by his side during this tumultuous time was a blessing.
Crossing the hickory plank floor with bare feet, he kneeled next to her and couldn’t help but caress the flawless skin of her cheek. She stirred before slowly blinking her eyes open, her emerald gaze luring him with desire.
“Are you okay? Do you need something?” she whispered groggily.
“Aye,” he replied, managing a faint smile as he stroked her face. She reciprocated, her eyes crinkling at the edges of her long lashes.
Mac stood tall and stripped his shirt over his head, revealing his bare, tatted torso in the firelight. Staring down at her with intense longing, he unzipped his jeans, his gaze never leaving hers as his mind craved the healing intimacy of her touch. Nicky shifted and sat up, helping him free his hard cock from the suffocating denim. Their eyes locked on one another as she licked her lips and moved forward to kiss his tip. The shot of ecstasy through his body was instantaneous, and he reveled in it, allowing his head to roll back with pleasure. Spreading his legs a little wider so he wouldn’t stumble in his inebriated condition, he felt Nicky’s gentle hands wrap around his thickness and squeeze.
“Aye, it feels so nice,” he mumbled. When he felt her luscious mouth wrap around his skin, he moaned, drifting into bliss, the hot arousal in his groin ready to ignite like the flames of the blaze behind him. Opening his eyes to peer down at his lover, his mo leannan, he pulsed against her flicking tongue as a wicked smile crossed his features. When she met his blootered gaze, her jade eyes glimmered like jewels, dazzling him in his drunken, fraught state of mind. Nicky was love and light and – life. But in that moment, it wasn’t enough. He felt compelled to hold on to her, to bury himself in her secret garden and escape the shock and despair that threatened to consume him.
Stumbling backward, he yanked at his tadger with a raspy, needy breath. “Take off yer pants and turn around. I need to be inside of ye,” he grunted, unabashedly pumping himself in the process.
Nicky offered a quick nod and shrugged off her jeans and panties in one fluid motion, turning around and displaying her fine ass in a wide stance. Holding her by the waist, Mac ran his free hand down her supple, creamy skin to the apex of her thighs, dipping his fingers into her healing warmth. Her squeal was slight, and he could feel her body rise, her back arching as his deft fingertips stroked her hard nub.
“Aye. Ye’re so ready for me,” he slurred, teasing her slick seam with his tip.
She whimpered, gripping the back of the sofa. Her long hair hung over her shoulder as she tried to look back at him.
Tightening his hold on her hip bone, he finally relented and slid into her tight wet folds with a hard push, the instant bolt of electricity zapping his breath completely. With eyes pressed shut, he pumped inside her. He was wound tight and could feel the anticipation of his orgasm building. Straining to reach the mountain top, he grunted, gritting his teeth, and pushed himself harder. And when he finally hit the glorious rush of rapture riding the wave of release he’d longed for, his emotions suddenly got the better of him. The spasm of complete sorrow mixed with pleasure annihilated him, leaving him in a crumpled heap on the floor. As his heart thundered in his chest, Mac could hear Nicky's muffled voice calling his name, pleading with him to open his eyes.
“Please, Mac. Open your eyes. Please!”
Winded, he used every last ounce of strength he could muster to lift his body up on all fours, his muscles aching and fatigued. Scanning the space, he tried to remember where exactly he was, the ample amount of whiskey he’d consumed not helping in the situation. Leaned back on his heels, he licked his lips and focused on Nicky, who was right beside him, her face panic-stricken.
“What…what just happened. Did I hurt ye?” His breath staggered as he reached for her.
Shaking her head, Nicky’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay, Mac. You’re gonna be okay.”
He offered a quick nod before his face twisted with grief, the agony of the situation, hitting him full force. She was his life-line, his savior in his time of need. Desperate, he reached for her. When he fell heavy into her arms, they clung together in the shadows, the somber sound of weeping muffled between their bodies bowed down with sorrow.
I'll See You Again: A Scottish rock star, standalone opposites-attract romance (Reigning Hearts Book 4) Page 17