Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5)

by Burgoa, Claudia

  “I wish you could stay,” she mumbles, and my heart stops with those five words.

  “Maybe someday, Mac,” I say, once I see the door of the kids’ room close.

  Someday.

  “How many days before they go back to school?” Aunt Molly asks as we watch Harper, Finn, and Porter play with their guitars.

  “They’ll learn soon,” Porter explains. Porter and Finn look adorable sitting side by side, scratching the guitar cords. Yesterday after they opened the only present Porter gave them—as Porter, they refused to put them down. A guitar for each of them. Both guitars are the perfect size for their age.

  “On the second,” I remind her. “You’ll be gone by then.”

  “That’s why I’m getting my fill of eye candy.” She smirks ogling Porter. “There’s nothing between the two of you, right? If something happens while I’m gone, text me. Because if that’s the case, I’ll bring myself a man home.”

  I groan, squeezing my eyes shut to erase the mental picture of my aunt with some Latin hottie. She leaves for Costa Rica on the thirtieth for a couple of weeks with her friend Rhonda. Mom and Dad invited me to visit them in Florida for New Year’s Day. They offered to pay for the plane tickets, but I can’t afford the hotel. Leo’s mom, who I barely talk to, invited us to Charlotte to spend the holidays. She hasn’t seen the kids since the funeral. As much as I’d love to visit her, I can’t afford the trip. The plane tickets are expensive and driving is out of the question. Driving across the country with two little ones during winter would be insane.

  As for things with Porter . . . there are kisses. Sweet, passionate kisses when no one is watching. Deep stares where I know he’s professing his love for me, while my soul trembles, uncertain of what to answer.

  It’s been almost three years since Leo left, but is it too early to move on? I’m a mother, is it okay for me to do it? There’s no manual on it and Google isn’t helping at all. Some forums tell me that I should’ve started dating after a few months, while others say that I am better off alone. My heart is terrified to make a decision. Porter is handsome, smart, sweet, and caring. Any woman would be lucky to have him. He’d be better off with a single woman without the amount of baggage that I carry.

  A tap snaps my train of thought. Porter’s eyes meet mine and a gasp escapes my throat as he smirks. I’m fucked.

  “Time for them to head to bed,” he says, tilting his chin toward the wall clock.

  “But it’s too early,” Harper complains for the third time.

  “If you want to go sledding tomorrow . . . ,” I remind her.

  She places her guitar on its base and jumps off of the couch as if it’s on fire, running up the stairs. “Finn, hurry up. We’re going to get to use our new sleds.”

  “You are spoiling them, Porter Kendrick,” I accuse, but smile at him as he helps me out of my seat.

  “Are you going to punish me for that?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

  “We’re ready,” Harper yells from the top of the stairs.

  “I heard my aunt is planning on replacing you for some Costa Rican hottie.” Mac snuggles closer to me. We’re watching Never End Seven. The worst Never End movie made in the history of the franchise. What the hell was Gabe thinking? He plays Joe Quinton, the main character of the series. Like Gabe, Joe isn’t as young as he used to be and I don’t buy for one second that he can jump out a building without a scratch. “Are you okay with that?”

  “Your aunt is something else,” I laugh with her. “Of course, I’m going to miss her, she boosts my self-esteem on a daily basis, but I’ll survive a few weeks without her. Have you talked to your boss?”

  “Yes, she’s thinking about it.” Her voice tone lowers and so does her happiness. “I think she wants someone younger, thinner, and prettier for the position.”

  “Twenty-eight is young, you’re beautiful, and I love your body.” I bring her closer to me, fitting her curves to my body. “She’ll give you the position, Mac. Maybe with that new gig you can go back to school. Find your passion.”

  “I love plants.” Her voice deflates. “Nature. The farm is never going to happen, is it?”

  “Afraid not, babe, but you’ll find something better,” I assure her, taking her lips.

  She doesn’t want to look deeper into our relationship, but she hasn’t stopped me from kissing her whenever I want. As long as the kids aren’t around. She doesn’t want them to get the wrong idea. At least not until she can work through her internal conflict. The sweet throaty moan she makes when my hands make contact with her bare skin turns me on. As my hand trails towards her torso, the doorbell rings.

  Fuck, damn it.

  Kissing her one more time, I rise from the couch and fix my jeans. “I’ll get it. It might be your aunt reminding me that we don’t have much time left together.”

  On the other side of the door, there’s an older woman. Light brown hair, wearing glasses, a winter jacket that covers her entire body and a scowl.

  “Evening, can I help you?” I stare at the luggage she carries.

  “Mackenzie Brooke,” she snarls. “I’m looking for my daughter-in-law.”

  “Virginia?” Mac’s shrilly voice scares the shit out of me. “What? Why are you here?”

  Virginia pushes me aside and enters the house without giving me a second glance. She sets her luggage on the floor and looks around. I follow her eyes and make a few notes because it’s time to paint the walls and maybe buy some toy boxes for the new stuff that Santa brought.

  “New furniture?” She straightens her back. “I thought you said you didn’t have any money.”

  The furniture isn’t new. Fuck. AJ and I bought the shit years ago. I was what? Twenty-one? She was right, this shit was going to last. Twelve years and it’s still looking classy and pristine.

  “The furniture came with the house,” Mac defends herself. “It’s his furniture; we’re just borrowing it while we find a place to stay.”

  “Leo worked hard to give you a home.” The lady ignores Mac. “You threw everything away and came . . .” she scrunches her nose, “here.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but the kids are already asleep and it’s midnight.” I point at the wall clock. “If you want, I can drive you to your hotel and you can visit tomorrow.”

  “Hotel?” She glances at me from head to toe. “Who are you?”

  “Porter Kendrick,” I extend a hand, which she barely shakes.

  “Well, I’m staying here, not in a hotel,” she huffs. “I’m family. You shouldn’t be here. Are you bringing men into your house, Mackenzie?”

  I take the bag, open the door, and tilt my head toward the exit. “You can stay with us, next door. Molly will be happy to show you to the guest room. Mackenzie and the children don’t have space for visitors.”

  Gently I take her by the elbow and guide her to my room, where I change the bed sheets while she freshens herself. Taking my shit out of the room, I decide to stay on the couch. Tomorrow is going to be hell if that woman doesn’t change her attitude.

  What a bitch!

  “What do you mean he doesn’t talk?” Virginia’s shriek makes me jump out of my body, while Finn runs towards Porter’s arms.

  Thank you, Harper, for bringing your grandmother up to date on what she’s been missing.

  The entire morning, this woman has been criticizing me about everything. From what I wear, to the house I live in and how I dress my children. Reminding me how great I had it while I was with Leo. How Leo would die all over again if he saw the conditions I lived under, the way I am treating my children.

  “Can we go now?” Harper’s pouts. “Porter promised.”

  “Mac, I’ll go next door, get them ready, you don’t have to come,” he assures me. “I think it’s best for everyone.”

  Virginia’s scowl intensifies and I nod. My kids don’t need to listen to their adorable grandma’s rants. Maybe after they leave the house I can defend myself, because she’s starting to cross the line. Where the hel
l is Molly when I need her snarky comments? Buying swimsuits for her trip.

  “You’re not coming, Mommy?” Harper pulls my arm.

  “No, grandma needs some company, sweetheart,” I explain, bending down and kissing her forehead. “Be nice to Porter.”

  Finn waves at me from the door and Harper skips toward them. They disappear within seconds and the door shuts right behind.

  “That man has tattoos,” she sneers, stating the obvious. “What are you thinking, Mackenzie?”

  “I’ll tell you.” She walks around the living room and stops in front of me. “You’re not thinking at all about your children, or the consequences that being involved with a man like that will bring. What happened to the marriage vows you made to my son? A married woman doesn’t behave the way you’re acting. My son is dead and you’re behaving like a slut in front of your children! Is that what you want to teach Harper?

  “He bought you a house with his hard work and you sold it like it meant nothing to you. My son loved you since you two were children and you’ve already forgotten about him. I don’t think you’re a fit mother, Mackenzie.” She pulls out her phone. “I’m going to send a message to my lawyer. You’re putting the children in danger. What did you do to Finn? He used to talk. You must have done something bad to him. That’s why he’s like that, he’s scared of you.”

  “Please, don’t!” A sob catches in my throat. I’m trying to be strong, ignore her rant. But my kids. “I love them. How dare you tell me that I caused Finn’s issues! We don’t know what’s wrong with him. I’m trying to do what’s best for them; you can’t take them away from me. They’re all I have left.”

  There’s a lump of tears in my throat and I push them down because crying won’t fix anything.

  “If you loved them, you would stop flirting with that man. If you loved my son, you wouldn’t be considering spending his birthday with another man.” She lowers her tone. “No one can replace my Leo. That man less than anyone, look at him, Mackenzie. Wake up and stop thinking with what’s between your legs. Your children come first; Leo comes first. There’s no place for anyone else.”

  “Out,” I hear the door slam shut and find Aunt Molly approaching us. “Pick up your shit and get out of my house. You’re not allowed to yell at my niece.”

  “I have this,” I cut off my aunt, but she shakes her head.

  “Go back to your place, I’ll handle Virginia,” she orders and I don’t fight her, because every word that Virginia said is starting to make sense.

  I need home, I need my bed. I need Porter. No. I should need Leo.

  Molly is a godsend, my savior and so much more. I want to kiss her feet for being such a great support system. In the morning she came over to my house making sure that I dragged my ass out of bed, that I ate some breakfast before heading to work and that I remembered the good things.

  Like my first attempt at baking a cake. I learned an important lesson, when the recipe calls for baking powder, you don’t replace it with baking soda. Still, Leo ate the chewy cake with droopy frosting, and said that he loved his birthday. Each year I became better at baking and a couple of years ago I even decorated it with fondant. Because every December twenty-seventh I made sure that we celebrated his day with love, and a cake baked by me.

  The entire holiday season had been a family affair. The chilly weather invited us to stay at home with the kids. Movies, hot cocoa, family games and love. Always love. We went all out when it came time to decorate for the holidays. I let out a big breath, remembering the big inflatables that we set outside the house. A black cat with a witch hat and a friendly ghost for Halloween. A turkey during Thanksgiving and for Christmas we had our snow globe. Each year Leo would design a fancy twinkling light setup and synchronized it with music. The engineer had a soft side for the holidays and he planned and executed everything perfectly.

  As Virginia pointed out, I settled for a sad tree and nothing outside of the ordinary like Leo would do. No, not this year, or the next or . . . Holidays will never ever be the same. There won’t be a birthday cake. Worse, I dared to be with another man. I hold on tightly to the ashes and the picture close to my heart, wishing he were here tonight to celebrate his birthday. Fuck. I hid underneath a stone for a couple of years and when I came out thinking everything would be gone . . . it wasn’t. The heart wrenching pain remains. The hurt appears like a tsunami without a warning. Even when I fight to push it away, it remains attached like a second skin.

  “Fuck, Leo, come back,” I scream at his picture on the nightstand. “I wasn’t ready for you to leave. We had so many more birthdays to celebrate together. Halloweens, Thanksgivings, Christmases . . . you gave up and left me. I’m tired of breathing, existing, and coping.”

  The sorrow, anger, grief, and guilt claw at my heart and soul. Not letting me go and sinking me as I fight to stay afloat. Holding my head up is freaking hard. Praying for his return hasn’t worked. Not one prayer has been answered. My tear-stained pillowcase can attest to the endless pleas. Fuck, I hold my breath clutching the urn toward my stomach hoping to subdue the cries.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” his low voice murmurs in my ear. His hands take away the urn and frame that I hold tight as if my life depends on it, but I let them go. My lifeless, heavy body is pulled up from the floor. “I hate to see you sad. Tell me what can I do for you?”

  “He’s gone,” I say between gasps of air and sobs. “I keep asking him to come back, bring him back to me. No one can replace him.”

  “Mac,” one word filled with so much power that I feel warm inside. “He’s with you, walking beside you every day. Even when you can’t see him, he’s near.”

  “He’s never coming back, is he?”

  “Tell me how to make it better, Mac?”

  “Make me forget.” I finally meet his gaze. A flash of pain illuminates his eyes, disappearing as fast as it appeared. “Make everything disappear.”

  My plea is answered unexpectedly. He presses a kiss on my mouth. Tender. Soft. The first of many that he places on different parts of my face. At the same time, his hands pull on the hem of my t-shirt, just as slow as his kisses, he tugs it up until it goes over my head and my chest is bare. Each inch of skin he reveals tingles expectantly, waiting to be the next place where his lips will land. His hands glide up and down with grace, as if he was a sculptor and my body was a piece of clay that he molded with his masterful fingers.

  Patient fingers that, like his mouth, take their time touching every inch of me. Making me feel desired—loved. Like the first time Leo touched me, loved me. We were each other’s first. Everything we experienced, we experienced it together. He promised that we’d reach every milestone together—even death. And I’m here, wishing he were the one touching me, yet begging another man to take me away from the nightmare I’ve been living under for so long. Too many seconds to remember.

  As he reaches my long skirt, his hands pull it down revealing my bare skin. “You’re beautiful.” He kisses my right hip, then the left, building the need inside me. “Not here. Not on the couch.”

  Porter sweeps me off the floor, carrying my almost naked body. His legs take long strides up the stairs and he enters the bedroom, closing it with one foot. As he rushes toward the bed, he sets me on top of it, crushing his body against mine. That luscious mouth of his takes control over mine with a feverish kiss. A greedy-hungry kiss that’s trying to devour me with just one bite. But so intense that it promises to last forever. My body is igniting and coming to life. Every cell is electrified by his touch, his scent, his . . . no, no. What am I doing?

  “Leo,” I cry out in desperation, trying to fight what’s going on. He was the only man that ever touched me. The only one I let myself go to places that. I’m his. Only his.

  Porter freezes, his eyes opened wide. His arms release me and chills run through my body as he begins to retreat. Loneliness seeps through my skin. “I . . . I’m sorry . . . Do you want me to stop?”

  “I don’t know,
” I whisper, as the deluge of tears takes over. Everything is so confusing. It left for a little while and suddenly the pain came back. Porter’s touch made it disappear.

  “Erase it, don’t let it come back,” I plea again.

  “Are you sure?” He murmurs, his lips tantalizing the skin behind my ear. “The last thing I want to do is to hurt you.”

  Closing my eyes, I decide to pretend. Play make believe. Instead of brown eyes, I see Leo’s amber eyes. Loving me, celebrating his day the way we’ve done since he turned eighteen. “Please, don’t make me ask again, take it all away.”

  He takes my bottom lip with his teeth, nipping at it. I lift my hands, running my fingers through his soft hair. His lips slide along my jaw, then he places lingering kisses along my neck and pulls the strap of my bra down with his teeth, tracing an invisible line with them through my skin. Shivers run through my system. Fuck, I want more. As if he can hear my thoughts, his mouth travels to my breast and a loud moan escapes me as he starts driving me to the edge.

  One of his hands slides down my belly, until it reaches my pelvis. With a light push, he opens my legs slightly and slides his hand all the way to my sex, finding my clit and caressing it gently. Slowly. Building the need below my waist. As I rub myself against the heel of his hand, his long finger enters me. A loud throaty gasp resonates through the walls, as my back arches and my hips try to help me find the much-needed release. The build is intense, I can see the abyss I’m about to fall into and I want so badly to let myself fall.

  “Yes,” I cry out. “Please, babe, do it.”

  He muffles my orgasm with a kiss, absorbing everything I have to give. My insides explode as I reach the place he’s taking me.

  “Let everything out,” he whispers, as his hand leaves me. I hear the sound of the foil and I force myself to keep my eyes shut. Live in the moment forgetting everything else. Even the man taking me to another galaxy and helping me forget my own name. Making me feel alive. “I got you, baby.”