“Yes.”
“So, when we’re talking about marrying someone, we’re talking about feelings, man. Not just buying rings and writing check-lists. We’re talking about hard decisions and serious promises and love. When it’s about this kind of stuff, you don’t just do it without thinking alot and talking to other people.”
Noah was silent.
“Noah? What do you think?”
“I think I need to talk to Sarah and Mom and King and Callie’s Mom.”
“And Callie.”
“But I want to surprise her.”
“Oh, you will.” Jax remembered Sarah’s face when she’d first seen the ring. “Even if you talk to her about marriage, I can tell you that if and when you actually ask, she’ll still be surprised.”
“You promise me?”
“I do, man. I promise you with everything that I have.”
**
Upstairs, Mac leaned against the living room wall and caught Naomi’s eye. He knew that she was good and pissed about what had happened with Mirrie, and he wondered if she’d talk to him. She’d refused for the past two weeks, hanging up every time he’d called, and finally King had asked him to back off for a bit.
She walked over now, slowly. She stopped right in front of him and studied his face.
“Does it still hurt?” Naomi finally asked.
He gave her a small, rueful grin. “If you mean my face, sweet thing, the answer’s not really. But if you mean losing Mirrie? Yeah. It still hurts like hell.”
She bit her lip. “You messed up, Mac.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“You know how mad I was at King about it too? When he finally told me what you guys had done?”
“He mentioned something,” Mac said in an evasive tone. “Said the sofa wasn’t very comfortable.”
She gave a small laugh. “I just bet he did.”
Mac sighed a bit, so damn relieved that Naomi was talking to him. She wasn’t kidding about having been angry at King, he knew: King had told him that she’d kicked him out of their bedroom for a week. She’d been blazing-hot furious that both she and Mirrie had been kept in the dark about what the guys had been up to.
They looked at each now, their gazes locked.
“How is she?” Mac said quietly.
Naomi paused. “Better now.”
“Spider says that she hasn’t been coming to work.”
“No. She’s angry at him too.” Naomi shrugged. “She’ll go back soon, but first she needs to work a few things out.”
Mac finally asked the question that had been keeping him awake at night. “Did she – she’s not drinking, is she?”
Naomi gave him a narrow look. “No.”
He shut his eyes. “Thank Christ.”
“She’s been coming to more meetings than usual,” Naomi said. “She’s been asking for help more. Neil is her sponsor again, and I know they meet and talk a few times a week. She’s got good support.”
Mac stared at her, taken aback at Naomi’s wording. What did she mean that Mirrie was coming to more meetings than usual? When she put it that way, it sounded like Naomi was at the meetings too.
Naomi saw the half-formed intuition in his blue eyes and she smiled. “You don’t know how Mirrie and I met, do you?”
He shook his head.
“She’s my sponsor.”
“She’s…” Mac stared down at her. “You’re in AA?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God.” Mac suddenly thought of all the times that he’d tried to buy Naomi a drink, the times that he’d teased her about drinking juice and not wine. “Oh, fuck, Naomi. I didn’t know. I’m sorry…”
“It’s OK,” she said. “You know now.”
“Honey.” He touched her hand gently. “You amaze me.”
Startled, surprised, she gave him a quick smile that lit up her whole face. The last bit of tension between them melted away and she sighed.
“Anyway, I know what King said, but I want to hear it from you,” Naomi said. “Why didn’t you tell me about what was happening?”
“We figured that if you knew, you’d tell Mirrie,” Mac said. “King thought that you’d never be able to accept knowing and not sharing it with her. You’d have been in a horrible moral dilemma and we just wanted to spare you that.”
Naomi snorted. “Of course I’d never have accepted it, Mac, and not because Mirrie’s my sponsor. I’d never have accepted it because it was the wrong thing to do. You boys fucked up.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did and I know it. But I want to fix it.”
“You really think you can?”
“I don’t know. But I want a shot, at least.”
“How? Have you got a plan?”
His heart jumped at her words, wondering if she was open as she seemed to be. “I do. You gonna help me?”
“Maybe. Depends what you have in mind.”
“I’m going up to my cabin tonight,” he said slowly. “I’ll be there for a few days. I’d love it if Mirrie came and joined me. We could be alone and talk for as long as it took.”
Naomi thought about that and Mac watched her beautiful face, looking for clues where her head was at. Finally, she nodded and he felt nothing but hope for a second chance. Or third chance, depending how you chose to think about it
“I’ll tell her, Mac, but that’s all I’ll do,” Naomi said. “If she shows up, it’s because she wants to see you and listen to you, not because I pushed.”
“I get it.” Mac took a deep breath. “Thanks, Naomi.”
“Sure.” Her face broke in to a shining smile. “And Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“I hope she shows up.”
Mac thought about that horrible three days four years before, when he’d sat in that cabin paralyzed with worry. The thought that he was heading back to that exact same place and situation was terrifying; he was going full-circle. But it was the only way that he had a shot and so he’d do it. He’d do anything.
“Yeah.” His voice was husky with want. “Yeah, me too.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next night, Mac stood in his cabin living room, staring unseeing out of the windows at the approaching early-autumn sunset. She hadn’t shown up the night before, she hadn’t shown up that day, and now Mac faced another sleepless night of waiting and wondering. Of trying to hold on to hope but slowly, steadily dying inside, one small piece at a time.
It was harder than he’d thought it would be, sitting up here and waiting for Mirrie. It had thrown him straight back to four years before, to that devastating weekend of frantic phone calls to Mirrie’s cell and to the police. He hadn’t slept a wink that whole time, he remembered now, and this weekend seemed to be going the same way.
When he heard the car engine on the road outside, his breath caught. Every sense in his body prickling and vibrating, he stood on the front porch, listening with every inch of his being. And when he saw her car come around the bend and pull slowly in to his driveway, Mac seriously thought he might pass out from relief.
She climbed out of the car and he blinked in surprise to see that her hair was a shimmering blonde – the exact color that it had been four years earlier. She'd taken out her cheek piercing and her eyebrow ring and she was wearing about half the makeup that she normally did. She looked so much like the Mirrie that he'd first known, all he wanted to do was kiss her. She was the most beautiful, strongest woman he’d ever seen and he’d give anything for her to forgive him.
Please, sweet God. Just one more time.
Mirrie looked up at Shane, her heart tight. He looked terrible, she saw. Tired and still bruised and beaten up, sure, but also diminished somehow. She’d never seen smart-ass, supremely-confident Shane MacIntyre as smaller than he was and more
than anything, that told her what he’d been through recently.
He came down the stairs, still unable to believe that she was standing in front of him. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Can I take your bag?”
“I’m not sure that I’ll be staying.”
“Oh.” His stomach clenched in disappointment. “So… will you come in?”
“Yes. We need to talk.”
“I know.”
She followed him up the stairs, walked in as he held the door for her. She looked around, curious despite herself. So this was where she was meant to have spent that weekend all those years ago, where Shane had sat and waited for her while she drank and despaired.
“It’s nice,” she said. “Very homey.”
“Thanks.” He was standing there, looking lost. “Maybe you want something to drink? Tea or juice?”
“No, thanks.” She sat in the armchair closest to the window looking out on the mountains. “You invited me up here, Shane. So talk.”
“OK.” He sat too, feeling incredibly nervous. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure.”
He licked his lips, hoped against hope that he didn’t fuck this up any worse than he already had.
“I’m sorry, Mirrie. God, I’m so sorry.”
“You said that,” she said, but not unkindly. “You being sorry isn’t the issue. I know you’re sorry.”
“So what do I do?” he asked, helpless and scared. “What do you need me to do, babe? Tell me… tell me and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”
She looked at him and he waited. When she spoke, she was gentle with him.
“I need you to get it, Shane. Get why you should have told me.” She pushed her golden hair off her curved cheeks. “I need you to really, truly believe that I had a right to be a part of it all and far more importantly, why I should have been a part of it.”
Without a word, Mac got to his feet and came over to her. Startled, she moved back a bit and then froze as he fell to his knees in front of her.
“Shane…” she breathed.
“Babe.” He rested his hands on either side of her, holding her in place. “I get it.”
Mirrie searched his eyes, waited.
“I get it,” he said again. “I took something away from you, didn’t I?”
She held her breath.
“What if I’d been beaten in to coma? Or what if I was paralyzed and not able to talk? What if I’d died?” Mac’s face contorted in shame. “How could I have been so fucking presumptuous as to deny you what might have been the last chance that you had to tell me that you love me? How could I have taken away the chance to maybe say goodbye? To say things that you still have left unsaid, things that I may have no idea about? I took all that away from you and I had no goddamn right to do that.”
Tears gathered in her eyes and he wiped them tenderly.
“The worst part of the whole thing?” he said. “Is that I know better than anyone how it feels to not get that last conversation. To have hundreds of things all locked up inside you with nowhere to go. How could I have forgotten that? How could I have been so fucking thoughtless and blind as to put you in that same position?” He stroked her hair and she leaned in to his touch, just a bit. “I did what I did to protect you, babe, but that was arrogant and wrong of me. You’re my partner, my other half. My soulmate. You’re stronger than I am in so many ways, and you’d have handled it.”
She gave a small sob and he pulled her against his chest.
“I know you’d have been scared and worried, babe. You’d have stayed up all night and been beside yourself. But you’d have done all that knowing that if I never came back to you, you had nothing left undone. Nothing unsaid between us. You’d have had that comfort, at least. And I think that’s all you’d have needed to pull you through.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“…Yes?”
“Yes. You do get it.”
“Yeah.” He pulled back to look in to those violet eyes. “I do.”
She touched him now, ran her fingertips along his bruised cheekbone. Her touch was delicate and tender and he closed his eyes, weak with gratitude.
“Does this hurt?” she asked.
“A bit,” he said, his eyes still closed. “It’s OK.”
“What about the rest of your injuries?”
“Fine.”
“Your back?”
He looked at her now. “Well… a bit sore. Joker and Doors really let me have it.”
She nodded. “Can I – can I see?”
His breath stopped dead in his chest. “You want me to take off my shirt?”
“Oh, yeah, babe.” Her smile was pure, perfect beauty. “Take off your shirt.”
"Only if you do."
"Hmmm." Mirrie blinked up at him innocently. "I suppose that can be arranged."
Without another word, Mac raised his large arms over his head. She grasped the bottom of his t-shirt and gently, carefully, mindful of his injuries, lifted it up and off. She sucked in a breath when she saw the nasty bruises on his chest, but it was the ones on his back that shocked her.
"Oh, Shane." Her fingers trembling, she touched the purple and black flesh. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, babe. It was worth it."
She was silent as she ran her hands over and over his back. All she could think about was how much pain he must have been in, how he'd put himself through all of this for her. For them.
"Mirrie?" He looked at her over his broad shoulder. "You know I'm OK, right?"
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak yet.
He turned all the way around now, cupped her face in his strong hands. "I love you."
"I love you too," she whispered. "I'm sorry I walked away from you that night. I'm sorry for the things I said."
"Hey." His kiss was tender but heated and she felt her body go limp. "No more apologies, alright?"
"But..."
"No, 'buts'." His hands were moving over her hips now, knowing and sure. "If you really want to make it up to me, take off your shirt."
She laughed. "Oh, is that what I have to do?"
"For starters."
Without another word, she yanked her shirt over her head and watched as his eyes went smoky with lust and want. He reached behind her, unsnapped her bra and when her full breasts fell loose and free, he slowly lowered his head. Mirrie held her breath, waiting for the second when his warm mouth would press on her soft flesh.
Mac traced the curves of her breasts, ran his tongue around her nipples. Her breath caught and he smiled. He loved her response to him: it was so honest, so emotional. It was the closest thing to perfect beauty that he'd ever seen; it was surely the most perfectly beautiful thing that he'd ever touched.
Gently, he sucked her nipple in to his mouth, rolling it between his lips. Mirrie arched and suddenly her hands were in his hair, tugging him closer.
"Shane." His name was a moan, and that was his favorite way to hear it. "More. Please, more."
He moved to the other breast now, slow and soft, inhaling her sweetness. Her hands were tighter, her breathing faster, her body more tense. Giving in to his desire, he roughly pulled her to the floor in front of the huge window facing the mountains. With a small cry, she clung to him, her face turned in to his throat.
"I want you naked," he rasped. "Now, babe. Don't make me wait even one second longer."
With clumsy fingers, she undid her jeans, shoved them and her panties down her legs and off her feet. Beside her, Shane was getting undressed equally quickly, with just as much urgency. Within seconds, they were naked and reaching for each other, kissing and carressing, their bodies straining to be as close as possible.
Gasping, Mirrie pulled back. "I don't want to wait. I need you inside me now. Please... please."
In response, Shane growled in his throat, wild and deep. No
sweet words, no articulate phrases. He just growled and at the sound, Mirrie felt her pussy open and slick up. She reached for his erect cock and stroked him with both hands. God, she needed to feel Shane deep in her body. She needed to come on him, all around him.
"Shane... I'm ready. Just make love to me. Just – just be inside me."
He reached for his jeans, grabbed the condom from his wallet. He rolled it on, then flipped Mirrie over and on to her stomach. Her arms were extended above her, her hands in fists on the carpeted floor. He covered her with his entire body, nudging her legs open with his knees. She lifted her hips slightly to make it easier for him, and with one impatient movement of his hips, he sank his full length in to her.
Mirrie cried out and Shane covered her hands with his, lowered his mouth to her ear.
"I got you, babe," he murmured. "I'm right here."
"Oh, God," she said, her voice breaking. "Oh, Shane..."
His thrusts were gentle, slow, deep. She moved under him, loving how that broad chest pushed her down, held her in place. She was bracketed by his muscular arms, clenched between his strong thighs, and she felt impossibly tiny and feminine even as she felt safe and loved. Shane ran his tongue over her throat, tracing the forget-me-nots delicately and she shuddered.
A burst of color over the mountains caught Mac's eye and he lifted his head. What he saw made him breathless all over again, and for a whole new reason. He lowered his massive upper body on to Mirrie once more, holding his weight on his forearms as he made love to her.
"Do you know what I thought about the first time you looked at me?" Mac said softly. "When you opened your one eye and stared up at me from that ICU bed?"
Mirrie shook her head, her hair catching the last rays of the sun. "No. What?"
"I thought that your eyes were the exact color of an autumn sunset over the Rockies."
She moaned as he thrust faster now, pushing up against her melting inner walls.
"Look at me, babe. Let me see your eyes."
She looked over her shoulder at him and he stared in to those amazing violet depths. Yeah, they were the same color as the perfect sunset outside the window; they had the same blazing intensity and passion. He held her gaze, moving faster, faster again.
Gentle Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 4) Page 17