by Becky McGraw
Her eyes fell to the large dark spot on the front of his jeans and regret washed through her. She wanted to feel him inside of her when he came too. Her body gripping him as he poured out his essence was part of the satisfaction. Another shiver racked her, and she sighed. They had more time to do things right before he left.
But not much, her mind whispered and her eyes burned as they moved back to his. He’ll probably leave as soon as you and Callie get back to Baltimore. Her stomach clenched as a wave of panic tried to surge up to her chest.
“Nothing,” he grumbled, as he sat up then stood. “I’m going to take a shower and change, then we’ll head to your mother’s. We need to get this done before the memorial tomorrow.” Brennan turned toward the bedroom, and Grace’s body tensed.
The talk with Callie, before they went to the funeral home in the morning to bury her sister’s ashes. Grace had her body cremated, because after seeing the horrible condition her body was in at the funeral home, there was no way she’d have agreed to an open coffin.
She bit her lip, her stomach muscles fell, and that panic surged up to choke her. Her eyes burned, and a whimper escaped. Brennan stopped midstride to turn around and come back to pull her into his chest. This man seemed to sense her every mood change, she thought, as he hugged her tightly.
“I’ll be there with you, baby—it’s going to be fine,” he assured, dropping a kiss on the top of her hair.
But who would be with her when he left? How in the hell would she cope with being a new mother, a single working mother, to a six-year-old disabled child?
The same way you always have since she was born. But that’s not the issue is it? No, your panic is because you know Brennan will soon be gone from your life again for good without knowing the truth.
The truth was she’d been in love with Brennan Lowell for eight years, the forever kind, the kind that kept her from allowing herself to even date another man.
Yeah, she’d been busy, but if she had the desire to date, she would have found time. It appeared she was that girl, the one who found her mate and that was it for her—and she was going to pay the price for it when he left her again. But even if she wasn’t that woman, she’d still be single forever, now that she came with a ready-made family.
A man could do much better than a workaholic wife with a child who wasn’t his own to raise. Brennan could certainly do better. He deserved so much better, and she would not do that to him by telling him how she felt.
He was too special—too important to her. She loved him enough to let him go again, even though it would probably kill her this time. Visions of being a dried up, loveless and lonely old lady with a Nobel Prize to keep her warm at night pushed hot tears over her lower lids.
Unless she could figure out how to make Brennan want to stay, she’d better get used to being alone. But there were no compromises to be made for them.
From seeing him with his co-workers, he loved them like family and his life was in Dallas, his career. Hers was in Baltimore, and she wasn’t willing to uproot Callie from her school, or leave her research.
It was hopeless.
When he released her to step back and lean in for a sweet, hot kiss, cool air swept between them. It swirled to every corner of her soul when he turned to walk back to the bedroom. A desperate need to run after him surged through her, and she lunged forward, but fought it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dex pulled the rental car up into the driveway of the Wentworth mansion and stopped to wait for the gate to open. Black bows adorned either brick column, reminding him of the purpose for which he and Grace were there. To tell a six-year-old that her mother would not be coming back to Boston, and that her aunt Grace would now be her permanent caregiver.
The black, iron gates separated in the middle and he drove through, then down the driveway to stop at the far end of the mansion. With every mile between the hotel and Grace’s mother’s house his tension grew. Right now, he felt like ants were crawling under his skin as he put the car into park and turned off the engine.
Grace hadn’t fooled him by looking out the window the entire drive. He knew exactly what she was doing—trying to hide the fact that she was crying, but her stiff posture and trembling gave her away.
“Gracie,” he said gently, and she turned her red-rimmed eyes his way. “You’ve got to pull yourself together, baby. If you’re upset, she will be too.” Dex was upset and it wasn’t his mother who had died.
It could be her one day though.
Those unspoken words rang in his mind to dredge up guilt that he hadn’t even let his parents know he was in town yet. His jaw clenched and the tension that had gripped him since their plane landed at Logan Airport ratcheted tighter.
He had to call them this afternoon, because for all he knew, they might be at the memorial for Marcy Wentworth tomorrow. Dex felt certain they’d see the obituary that Grace put in the Globe, and since they were acquainted, there was a good possibility his parents would attend.
If he didn’t call and they showed up at the memorial, he knew there would be hell to pay. Besides, after his near-death epiphany in Vegas, he needed to see them, to hug them and apologize for being such an asshole the last six years.
His father would be disappointed that he quit Sheridan, that was a given. Facing him and seeing the disappointment in his eyes was a price he was willing to pay to make peace with his family. He had no excuse now not to do that since Sheridan was dead and the threat to their safety gone.
What he wouldn’t do was compound his father’s disappointment by explaining why and how he left to justify his decision, which would only be excuses in his father’s eyes. Rear Admiral George Lowell probably already thought his middle son was a coward and quitter, by explaining he’d only double down on the coward factor because he ran, and add snitch or even traitor to his list of offenses. No, explaining would only make matters worse.
It was water six years under the bridge anyway, and it was time for him to stop letting fear of facing his father keep him from his family. Nothing could compare to the fear of never seeing them again now.
Dex quickly got out of the car and walked around to open Grace’s door. He waited while she wiped her face with a tissue, then flipped down the vanity mirror to repair her makeup. When she was finished, he took her hand and helped her out.
She took a step toward the mansion, looked up and a soft sob escaped her. Dex’s eyes traveled to the front stoop and he smiled when he saw a beautiful little blonde girl had stepped out of the house. She wore a crisp mint green dress, and her ponytail swung as she jumped up and down waving at Grace.
Grace took a deep breath and blew it out, then walked toward her. They met halfway and the little girl threw her arms around Grace’s waist to hug her tight. Dex walked up beside them just as Grace pushed her away. The girl’s pretty blue eyes locked on him and she looked back at the car then Grace and her fingers flew.
With a sob, Grace raised her shaking hand to reply. Her fingers worked swiftly too, but she also mumbled her reply. “No, baby—your mommy is not with us. Let’s go inside so we can talk, okay?”
Putting her arm around the girl’s shoulders, she walked toward a teary-eyed Patrice Wentworth who stood on the top stair with a lace handkerchief in her hand. Anger at Marcy Wentworth for leaving her daughter to go to Vegas, for putting herself in that dangerous situation when she had a child, warred with guilt and sorrow inside of him as he followed behind them.
Support or not, he did not belong here.
His emotions were too close to the surface, he was too raw inside. He knew if he was present when Grace broke the news to her niece, he would lose it and she didn’t need that. He had never dealt with such a heartbreaking moment in his life. This was a family moment, and he wasn’t part of the Wentworth family.
Regardless, Dex forced himself up each step because he’d promised Grace he’d be here for her—she needed him to be here, and he needed to know she was okay. He closed the door be
hind him and leaned on it to look around at the opulent entry. He sucked in a sharp floral-scented breath, his eyes tracked upward to the high-hung crystal chandelier and he rolled them, took deep breaths to calm himself.
When he regained control, Dex pushed off the door and walked down the granite hall until he heard the faint sound of Grace and her mother talking in a room to the right. He stopped in the doorway, and she looked up to give him a tremulous smile, then held out her hand and her eyes drew him to her side.
“Mother, I don’t know if you’ve met Brennan Lowell before, but I think you know his parents, Mary and George? He and I were, ah, friends in college.” Grace took a deep breath and blew it out. “It’s a long story, but he was in Las Vegas and helped me find…” Her lower lip wobbled violently, and she bit it.
Dex reached out his hand to Mrs. Wentworth and she took it. “It’s very nice to meet you ma’am, but I’m sorry it’s under such terrible circumstances. I’m here to help Grace and you in any way I can.”
Patrice Wentworth looked in his eyes for a long time. Her misery was a palpable thing but her scrutiny seemed to be for another reason. After a minute and a curious sideways glance at Grace, she met his eyes again and squeezed his hand.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Lowell. Grace is fortunate to have such a good friend to help her. I’m sure she appreciates it tremendously, as do I.” The woman’s pinched, lined mouth said the words, but there was no warmth in her voice at all, only speculation.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, releasing her equally cold hand to step back. “I know this will be a difficult discussion, so if you’d prefer I step out—” Please ask me to wait outside.
“Nooo!” Grace shouted, her voice rising an octave as she stood to slide her arm through his and pull him to the sofa. “Sit here beside me, please.”
He didn’t have much choice when she pushed him down on the sofa on the opposite end from her niece, who was twisting her hands in the skirt of her dress then sat between them.
“She’ll be upset, but you’ve been acting like her mother, Grace. She’ll adapt,” Mrs. Wentworth said, her own fingers twisting the handkerchief in her lap. Her words were dry, unemotional and irritated Dex for some reason.
“Marcy tried to do right by her, mother,” Grace hissed, her lips barely moving. “She loved her and was trying to make a life for them.”
She sniggered, and her face wrinkled with a disingenuous smile. “By leaving her daughter with you to go to Las Vegas and make dirty movies?” she challenged, her voice high and grating. “Marcy cared about Marcy, Grace Anne, and you know it. You gave up your own life to take care of both of them and tried to hide that fact from everyone. I’m not blind…or deaf. Maybe it’s time you considered that and found a good adoptive family for the girl instead of throwing your life—”
Dex lost his breath, and his irritation became fury as he watched Grace’s face flush and her body tense as she shot to her feet to stomp over and glare down at her mother.
“You’re right—Marcy’s way of doing right by her may have left a lot to be desired, but your example of mothering did too. Despite having to earn your love, Marcy didn’t do that to her daughter, so I guess she was a lot better mother than you ever were.” Patrice gasped, and put her handkerchief to her mouth. “And you’re also correct on another thing. I have been a mother to Callie, which is why I’m highly insulted when you talk about her as if she’s a stray dog to be given away!” Her breasts heaved with her agitated breaths, and Dex just sat there stunned. “If you ever suggest something like that again, you hardhearted bitch, I will never speak to you again. Do you understand me?”
Mrs. Wentworth leaned back in her chair to harrumph. “You haven’t spoken to me in five years, Grace, so why should that change? It was a logical suggestion…you yourself were adopted, so I have no idea why it upsets you so much.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “As for her being a stray, Marcy had no idea who Callinda’s father is, she left her for you to raise, so she was abandoned.”
Grace gasped, her hand arced, but Dex flew to his feet to catch it before she swung it toward her mother. “Grace is wrong, ma’am. You’re not hardhearted—you have no heart,” Dex grated, holding her hand as he dropped his arm over Grace’s shoulder. “How you can talk about a defenseless child that way?”
“Yes, mother—how can you care nothing about your own grandchild?” Grace asked, her voice breathless, her entire body trembling.
“I’d never even met Callinda until three weeks ago, so how can I care about her? Her mother is the one who forced the divide by running away from her family a decade ago to be a slut. I can’t see how you can fault me for how I feel.” Mrs. Wentworth shook her head and her eyes glassed over. “I tried to raise you properly, but evidently failed. You’re no better than Marcy at all…you’re just a little better at hiding your inborn vulgarity.”
“Save those fake tears for your friends at the memorial, Patrice.” Grace spun on her heel, signed something to her niece, then walked over to grab her hand. “And give them my regards, because we won’t be there.”
By the time Grace and Callie reached the foot of the grand stairs to go up, Dex was headed to get the car. He knew he had to get out of there, because he’d never hit a woman before, or wanted to. But at the moment, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from slugging that smug look off of Patrice Wentworth’s face.
Now, he understood why Grace wanted him there with her. He also understood why she was always so driven in college. She hadn’t been working to earn a degree, what she’d desperately been trying to earn was her mother’s love and respect. Her sister had too, which probably explained why Marcy was searching for that pie-in-the-sky break she never found.
They were both trying to prove themselves to be higher than this woman’s low opinion of them, and it was pathetic.
He stopped at the car and opened the door, but looked back at that monstrous house that wasn’t really a home because there was no love there. It amazed him that he and Grace came from relatively the same neighborhood, had the same advantages financially, but their circumstances and upbringing had been so different.
God, his heart broke for her…for her sister…and for her poor niece.
The urge to see his own parents, to thank them for all they’d done for him, became a driving force inside him. Hell, he might go to Afghanistan to hug Grant, to the academy to tell Brad he loved him. One thing was for sure, he was calling Patton to thank him for what he did for him in Vegas. Something he just realized he hadn’t done.
Emotion shot up to choke him and his fists curled as another epiphany happened which explained why he hadn’t thanked his brother. Dex had been too busy competing with his older brother, being jealous and defensive—like he had with all of his brothers his whole life.
It was time for that to end.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Where are we going?” Grace asked from the back seat in a nasally tone, as she hugged her softly sobbing niece into her side.
Breaking the news to Callie in the back seat of a car was not how this was supposed to go down, but Grace had been so upset when they left the Wentworth mansion, the little girl had started crying too. Or at least that’s what he thought had happened.
The whole conversation had been held in sign language, so he wasn’t sure. Not being able to decipher what was being said with their complex finger movements frustrated him, so he put learning sign language at the top of his mental to-do list. If a six-year-old could be so proficient at it, he could too.
“Did you tell her?” he asked instead of answering, taking the familiar exit to Brookline.
“Yes,” Grace replied in a broken whisper.
“Is she okay?” he asked, stopping at the light after his hand automatically turned on the left turn signal. That was a stupid question, of course she wasn’t okay.
“She’s hurting, but I think with time, she will.” Grace sobbed, but swiped a tissue under her nose. “My mothe
r was right about one thing—I have been a mother to her too, so it’s not as bad as it could be, because she still has me.”
“That woman is not your mother, Grace,” Dex said, looking at her ravaged face in the rearview mirror. “I’m about to take you to meet a woman who is a mother so you can see the difference. She’ll know how to help you both.”
“Where are we going?” she repeated, her eyebrows converging.
“To my parent’s house,” he replied, and her face relaxed. She sat back against the seat, and turned slightly toward Callie, who watched her intently.
“Does she have ice cream?” Grace asked, signing while she spoke.
“My father insists on it,” he replied, his shoulders relaxing a notch too. “He’s addicted to mint chocolate chip.” Dex preferred chocolate himself, the richer the better. He’d been known to pour half a bottle of chocolate syrup on his, to his mother’s dismay. He glanced in the mirror and watched Grace sign to the girl, and her face puckered.
“Callie prefers strawberry,” Grace said, signing her words as she spoke. “Let’s stop at a store and we’ll have an ice cream social with your parents.”
“An ice cream social, huh? Is that how the fine ladies of Boston have ice cream?” he asked with a laugh, then met Callie’s eyes in the mirror and smiled. “I don’t know how sociable I’ll be because I prefer a shovel-sized spoon with mine, but I’m game.”
In a flurry of fingers, Grace relayed his words to Callie and she giggled, then smiled widely. Dex’s heart fluttered and a weird feeling swept through him. The girl signed back to her aunt, and Grace laughed. “She wants a shovel too.”
“My mother’s silver gravy spoons are just about the right size,” he replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. “She has two of them and one has your name on it.”
“Oh, God…” Grace groaned, and Dex’s eyes flew back to the mirror to see her pull Callie into her side.