by Abby Niles
He let himself out the back door. She walked to the window and peered out at the house across the way. Lance and Mac were heading for the barn. Yeah, she needed to rest. A chase was always exhausting, even if it was a big fat bust like this one had been. Three days of traveling all across the Midwest pursuing promising data, and not even a measly funnel had peeked out from the dark clouds. She could hear Peter’s outraged blubbering now. The downside of doing her research under someone else’s thumb, especially a person who had no inkling about weather, was starting to surface. Real storm chasing wasn’t like in the movies. If Peter gave her too much grief, she’d tell him to take his high-tech gadgets and stuff them. She’d been doing just fine on her own. She could do so again, if need be.
She eyed the phone. Nah. He could wait.
First she had a fighter she needed to see.
She strode across the field, opened the barn door, and stepped inside. Silently, she moved off to the side as Mac and Lance were grappling on the mat. She couldn’t tell what they were doing. Lance was trying to bend Mac’s arm in a direction it definitely wasn’t supposed to bend. Mac finally slapped Lance’s shoulder and he released him. Both rose to their feet.
“Better,” Mac said. “We need to work on that a little more, but you’re getting the hang of it.” Mac’s eyes flicked to where she stood, then flicked back, and he stiffened. A fierce frown tightened his lips.
Lance looked over his shoulder and grimaced when he saw her. That wasn’t like Lance at all.
Unease made her swallow. What had happened?
Not one to cower, she smiled and strolled farther inside. “You guys getting your sweat on?”
Lance moved forward, running a hand through his hair, casually stepping between her and Mac. “Uh, yeah. Been going at it pretty hard the last couple of days.”
She glanced around Lance at Mac. “Hi, handsome.”
If anything, Mac’s scowl became even scowlier. Wow. She’d thought she’d seen him transform into the fighter a few times when he was trying to deal with her antics, but she was wrong. Way wrong. The man before her right now was intimidating as hell, and if he’d been the one she’d met on that first day, there would’ve been no way she’d have been so bold as to ask him out. A handsome but grumpy curmudgeon she could deal with…but a lethal, looked-like-he-could-snap-a-tree-trunk-in-two fighter, no way, nuh-uh.
Why was all this hostility suddenly directed at her?
Lance took her arm and steered her toward the door. She gaped at him. He was trying to make her leave. What the hell?
“I was going to come by your place in a little bit and see if you’d mind watching Skylar for a couple of hours. I have a voluntary pickup scheduled.”
“Sure. No problem,” she said, yanking her arm away and turning back toward Mac. “Why don’t you come over and hang out with us?” she asked him.
“I don’t think so.” His hands tightened into fists at his sides.
“Why not?” His attitude was starting to piss her off, but she managed to ask nicely.
“Mac.” There was a cautioning rumble in Lance’s voice that made Gayle shoot a glance at him.
That did it. “What the hell is going on? I couldn’t have done anything. I haven’t even been here.”
It was like she’d taken the cap off a shaken bottle of soda. Mac advanced on her so fast she almost retreated, but she held firm, notching her chin up in defense.
“You’re all about living in the moment,” he mocked, his voice getting a little louder, a little more cutting, with each word. “Throwing caution to the wind, having no regard for safety. You take life for granted. You embrace danger.” He raised a finger and jabbed it at her. “You don’t give a good goddamn about the wellbeing of others.”
Every word hit her like the blast of a rifle, ripping away at her bit by bit.
The last time she’d felt this shell-shocked, she’d just learned she’d lost everyone she loved.
But unlike the time before, pain didn’t engulf her. Anger did. And as the stunningly cruel words sank in, that anger grew. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she said, slowly, calmly.
“Oh, I know plenty. You’re a fucking catastrophe waiting to happen. Reckless. Impulsive. Careless—”
“Bro,” Lance interrupted with a stronger warning note in his voice. “You need to step back.”
“Bat-shit crazy.” An unmistakable shadow of disdain darkened Mac’s eyes. “You get off on risk-taking, no matter who will get hurt, and it makes me sick.”
Lance raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Everyone needs to take a timeout.”
“Fuck. You.” She flipped him off with both hands, then spun around and slammed out the door.
Lance’s, “Fucking not cool, man,” followed her out into the field.
Fury vibrated through her entire body. She took life for granted? Didn’t care for the wellbeing of others? Screw his judgmental ass. If he wanted to jump to conclusions on how she chose to live her life, then so fucking be it. She didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
“Gayle. Wait!” Lance called after her.
She kept striding. Fuck that.
His hand finally latched on to her arm and whirled her around. “Listen, I’m sorry about Mac.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for that dickhead.”
Lance groaned. “I warned you. Mac has some serious baggage.”
“Everyone has baggage, Lance. What that man has is serious”—she tapped her finger to her temple—”mental issues that could really use a good dose of shock therapy.”
She started to spin again, but Lance stopped her.
“I’m trying to explain, Gayle, if you’ll stop for a goddamn second. He’s been to hell and back—”
She jerked away from him. “Aren’t you hearing me? I. Don’t. Care.” She stepped forward and pounded her chest with her finger. “I’ve been to hell and back. I’ve had to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and learn to live again. And I have never judged someone like that because of my baggage. He—”
Lance’s eyes went wide. She snapped her mouth shut. Tears threatened to form and she blinked them back furiously. Damn it. She never talked about the past. No reason to relive it when nothing would change it.
“Gayle, I had no—”
She lifted her hand in front of his face. “I am not doing this. I made peace with my past a long time ago. You just keep that prick away from me. I don’t give a flying fuck what he’s been through. I don’t care how horrific his story is. He’s just showed me his true colors and I want no part of him. Anytime you need me to watch Skylar, it will be at my place. I don’t want to be anywhere near that judgmental bastard.”
Mac cringed as the barn door slammed against the outside wall and Lance came barreling back inside.
“What the fuck was that?” Lance got right up in his face and pushed him a step backward with his body. Mac didn’t object, letting his friend have his anger. “Gayle is a good person and she sure as fuck didn’t deserve that shit from you.”
“I don’t want to be around her, Lance.”
“Well, you sure as hell guaranteed that by being judge and jury over her life.”
Things had gone a lot further than Mac had intended. But the moment he’d looked up and saw Gayle standing there, his chest had tightened…and not in anger. The disgust and fury that had swamped over him for still feeling something when he knew what she did for a living, and that she was nothing more than an adrenaline junkie, came pouring out in words before he could stop it.
The abject terror he’d felt over the last few days when he thought about her within touching distance of a tornado had made him crazy. The fear she created inside him because she willingly put herself in danger was overwhelming.
Jesus. If he felt this powerfully in the short amount of time he’d known her…it just plain pissed him off. The whole fucking thing pissed him off big-time.
He couldn’t care for this woman. It would kill him.
He needed to keep his distance. Needed to make sure she kept hers.
He’d wanted her anger. Anger was safe.
“You want to know what I just learned?” Lance continued. “That woman you were just an absolute prick to has been through something, too. Something real bad.”
Mac jerked up and looked at his friend. “What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s see. Raging pissed off woman says she’s been to hell and back and she had to pick up the pieces of her life and learn to live again, but she has never judged anyone the way you just did.”
A painful knock to the gut stole Mac’s ability to breathe. She’d been through something so bad she’d had to learn to live again? No. Lance must have misheard. Gayle didn’t come across as haunted at all, much less broken and mended.
“Did she say what it was?”
“Yeah, no,” came Lance’s sarcastic reply. “But did you hear what I said, Mac? Did you hear the difference?”
What was Lance getting at?
His friend groaned and slapped both hands over his face. “You’re fucking pathetic, dude.” He lowered his hands and stared at Mac. “She learned to live again.”
“I’ve had to do that, too.”
“No. Gayle truly lives. You are just here. Marking time. Big difference. But, Gayle made you smile and laugh, Mac. She brought you out of the shell you had erected around yourself. She made you live.” Lance took a step forward. “And you just treated her like a pile of dog shit. She may be a storm chaser, hell, I don’t know. But I think the two of you have a lot more in common than you realize.” He swept his arm toward the barn door. “Look at her. Gayle has been able to find peace with whatever it was she went through. Maybe she can help you do the same.”
A feminine voice called Lance’s name from outside, and he glanced toward it. “That’s Piper. Skylar’s here and I have to go. Gayle is watching her while I’m gone. It should only take a few hours. I suggest you do some really hard thinking and figure out a way to make amends with that woman, because you know what? I was right. She would be good for you.”
With that, Lance stormed from the barn, the door slamming against the outside wall for a second time. Mac stared after him, then slowly lowered himself to the weight bench, linking his fingers between his knees. What had happened to her? There were so many ways a person could travel to hell, have their life shattered. The idea that someone could’ve hurt or neglected her made him shudder.
And yet, she still embraced life with gusto. She hoped and trusted. Laughed. Smiled. And gave of herself freely.
What he’d done by going off on her was the equivalent of pulling the wings off a butterfly that’d just flown from its cocoon.
She deserved his words of remorse…and gratitude. She had made him smile. She’d made him live again—however briefly.
The problem was coming up with the right words to express it. The only people who knew his whole story were the ones who had witnessed it. Not once had he ever verbally shared the horrors of that day with another living soul. He didn’t know if he was capable of doing it now. Or ever.
How long he sat there trying to put together the right way to share the darkest, bleakest, most horrific day of his life, he wasn’t sure. But suddenly a crash of thunder shook the structure surrounding him and he lost the ability to breathe, to move, as he was thrown headlong back to the moments just before a ferocious mass of twisting air had annihilated his life.
Gayle folded her arms across her waist as she gazed out the window at the storm cloud darkening the sky. Lightning brightened the grayness, and another boom of thunder quaked the glass. Wind swayed the tops of the trees. The forecast had called for isolated storms today, and she was definitely in the mood for a storm. Rain dinged off the glass panes, then the skies opened up and deluged the window with water. Inhaling, she closed her eyes and let the soothing sound flow over her.
God, she loved a spring storm. A cleansing of the earth and the smell of freshness afterward. If only the storm thrashing inside her would cleanse and refresh her the same way.
Almost forty-five minutes had passed since she’d left Lance standing in the field by the barn. Twenty minutes ago, he’d dropped off Skylar and tried to “talk” again. She’d instantly shut him down. Mac no longer existed as far as Gayle was concerned, and she resented the tight, angry emotions she’d been left with because of that awful man.
It makes me sick.
Well, right back at you, asshole.
To hell with him. Yeah, she was unconventional. Did things the way she wanted to and didn’t apologize for it. She had her reasons. Damn good ones. She’d gambled on love too many times and lost. Forever didn’t exist.
Thunder cracked again, and a sniffle sounded behind her. Gayle twisted around. Skylar was sitting on the couch with her face buried in her hands.
Shoving aside her own problems, Gayle hurried to the child’s side and knelt in front of her. “Sweet pie, what’s the matter?”
The little girl lifted her head. Tears brightened her eyes. “I put Bacon down to hug Daddy, and then I left him there.”
Ah. Bacon was Skylar’s stuffed pig, and she was extremely attached to it. Most likely, Lance had hustled her right over here as soon as Piper dropped her off. “He’s in the house, right?”
The little girl nodded.
“Then he’s going to be fine.”
“What if he’s scared? I’ve never left him alone in a storm before.”
Meaning Skylar was a little fearful of this storm and wanted her comfort object.
Gayle swallowed. “M-Mac is there to take care of him.” God, it was hard to even say the man’s name.
“Nuh-uh. He’s still in the barn. Daddy said so.”
“But that was twenty minutes ago. I’m sure he went inside as soon as he realized a storm was coming.” She brushed the blond curls back. “Bacon will be fine.”
Skylar crossed her arms stubbornly. “What if he isn’t? What if Bacon is alone and scared because I left him?”
Never argue with an eight-year-old. There was only one solution…and she would only do it for Skylar. “Listen, sweetpie, this is just a regular thunderstorm. Not even close to one of those really bad ones we sometimes have. But there is still lightning and it’s pouring, so we can’t go out in it right this second. As soon as the worst passes, we’ll run over and get him, okay?”
Skeptical eyes watched her intently. “Promise?”
“Cross my heart,” she said, doing the finger motion over her chest.
“Okay. As soon as it stops raining.”
“Yes. Now let’s find something to do so the time passes quickly.”
After she ushered Skylar into the kitchen and settled her down at the table, Gayle made them each three ants on a log. As they ate the celery, peanut butter, and raisin snack, she watched the cloudburst through the open back door. Strong, but not severe. A nice torrential downpour with cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning. The wind gusted here and there, but it was more of a robust breeze than damaging squalls. The humid air had already cooled, leaving behind the fresh, clean smell she loved directly after a storm.
Wouldn’t be long now. By the time she had tossed away their napkins, the rain was giving its last bit of nourishment to the ground. She opened the screen door, gazing up. Blue skies were already peeking through the dark clouds. “Come on, let’s get Bacon.”
As they walked across the saturated field, she hoped she could get in and out without coming face-to-face with the asshole. Honestly, she hoped to hell she somehow managed to get through the next few weeks without seeing him ever again.
As they trudged past the barn, she noticed the door had blown open. Why wouldn’t the dick lock it after he left? Lance had a lot of expensive equipment in there.
“Skylar, you go on in and get Bacon, okay? I’m going to lock up the barn for your dad. I’ll meet you at the back door.”
“Okay.” The little girl ran into the house, the screen door slapping closed b
ehind her.
Sighing, Gayle approached the door. As she started to shut it, a furious grunt came from inside the barn.
She poked her head inside and froze. Straddling one of the practice dummies Lance used to train, was Mac. Sweat coated his entire body, dripped off his chin, matted his clothes to his skin, and slung off his wailing arms as he beat the dummy into oblivion. He suddenly jumped off it, grabbed it by the neck, and hurled it against the wall. An enraged bellow followed, then he stood there taking in huge gulps of air, clenching and unclenching his fists.
What the hell? She cautiously stepped inside, making sure to keep some distance from the enraged stranger before her.
“Mac?” she said softly.
His head snapped around and he stared at her—no, he stared through her. Her stomach knotted painfully at the vacant look. This wasn’t training. This was something else entirely.
He’s been to hell and back.
She’d told Lance she didn’t care how horrific Mac’s story was, believing there was no excuse for his behavior. But now… There was no sign of the Mac she’d spent time with, laughed with. This man…this man was caught in some mental hell. She swallowed, her heart breaking for him when just moments before she’d wanted to strangle him with her bare hands.
“Mac,” she repeated, a little more forcibly.
A shudder quaked his body as the tension expelled from him in a quick rush. Blinking, he glanced around, his eyes landing on the dummy across the room. He held out his hands, staring at them. Raw, bloody scrapes covered both knuckles. Gayle pressed a hand to her mouth. How long had he been beating that thing?
His gaze snapped to hers and every muscle stiffened as the haggard lines on his face drew into a deep scowl. “Get out.”
“I’ve already seen it, Mac. I can’t unsee it even if you send me away.”
A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw and he jerked his chin up.
“How often does this happen?” she asked.
“Never.”
“Then what triggered this?”
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”
“Tough shit.” She nodded at his hands. “You need to clean those up. Come on. I’ll make some coffee while you do.”