When I Found You by Brenda Novak

Eight

When would Mack be leaving? Natasha wondered as she tried to sleep that night. As much as he’d helped—with everything from packing, moving and driving to buying groceries, babysitting and replacing the broken window—he made life so much more difficult for her on an emotional level. When he was around, she couldn’t let her guard down for an instant, had to watch where her eyes wandered, be careful of even incidental contact. She had to police her thoughts, too, so that she wouldn’t start to dwell on what it’d been like to make love with him. Those memories were so potent. If they hadn’t been, she would never have felt the need to write about that night, and then there would have been no journal for Ace to discover.

She’d dated plenty of men in college, and yet she’d never even recorded their names. But Mack had always been different. She’d continued to write about him even during her first year of marriage, which had been far more difficult than she’d ever anticipated. That journal had helped her cope with the longing and the loss, and the fact that she’d never stopped missing him.

Ace had to feel betrayed, though. And now that he’d read her journal, she felt completely exposed. Although she’d never had any inappropriate contact—or conversations—with Mack after she got married, she hadn’t been able to stamp out her feelings for him. And now that the curtain had been pulled back on her heart, she felt like such a fraud, as though the failure of her marriage was indeed entirely her fault, just as Ace had claimed throughout the divorce.

Climbing out of bed because she couldn’t sleep anyway, she wandered quietly around the house for the next few minutes, surveying the progress they’d made moving in via the moonlight streaming in the windows. It wouldn’t take much longer to get settled. She should be ready by the time she started work at New Horizons. Having the move behind her would be nice. No doubt Mack would be gone by the time she went to work, too, so she could focus on rebuilding her life.

The ironic thing was that she’d thought she’d finally managed to relegate what she’d felt for him to the past when all hell broke loose thanks to “Nurse Ratched.” Now here she was, seeing him again, being with him.

Wanting him.

She glanced at his sleeping form on the couch. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get over him? Squeezing her eyes closed, she shook her head. She would not make the same mistake again. She’d learned her lesson.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and ran her fingers over the casing of the new window. He’d done a nice job. He was good with his hands, could do almost anything.

She admired so many things about him, which didn’t help.

Her phone dinged upstairs in her bedroom. Apparently, she’d forgotten to turn it off, and the sound came across as abnormally loud in the silence. To stop it going off again, she hurried up to retrieve it. But she’d forgotten to plug it in to charge and had to turn on the light to find that it had fallen on the floor and must’ve been kicked under the bed.

She thought maybe it was her mother again. Their conversation hadn’t ended well. Anya had hung up on her. And her mother was often up late, which wasn’t surprising for someone who typically slept all day.

But the text Natasha had received wasn’t from Anya; it was from Ace.

God, I’m tired. And I have a big test coming up. I need to concentrate, and yet I can’t quit thinking about Mack finally stripping off our clothes and pressing inside me.

She cringed as she recognized those words. He was texting what she’d written in her journal.

Should she respond? Apologize? Attempt to explain?

What good would it do? Before she said anything, she needed to find out, for sure, if he was Lucas’s father. At this point, even if he was, she wasn’t convinced he’d continue to be the parent he’d been in the past. Maybe he’d use the confusion over Lucas’s paternity as an excuse to duck out on their son, to be free to start completely over. She got the impression it would be easy for him to blame her and move on, which was weird. Didn’t he love Lucas?

Poor kid...Had she messed things up for her son, too?

She jumped when her phone dinged again. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts and in what she was reading that she’d forgotten to silence it, even though that had been her original intent. She took care of that but couldn’t help reading the new text that had come in, even though she knew it would upset her.

Nothing in my life has ever felt so good. I didn’t want to come, because then I knew he’d come and it would all be over. But it was impossible to hold back. I’ve never had a night like that one.

Really?Ace wrote. You’ve never had a night like that one? What about the first night we slept together, you coldhearted bitch?

She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. She’d been trying to move on with her life and be normal—get married and have a family like other people. I’m sorry, she wrote, unable to hold back. I never meant for you to see that.

I’m glad I did. Now I know that our marriage was bullshit from the start.

She felt chilled, and her head was pounding. But she figured it was all the drama—emotional pain presenting itself in a physical manner. It wasn’t bullshit, Ace. I gave it everything I could.

Oh, right. I’m just not as lovable as Mack. Is that it?

That isn’t it,she insisted.

Did you cheat on me?

No. Never.

I don’t believe you.

It’s true.

You’re a lying whore. God, I hate you. I wish I’d never even met you.

His words felt like bullets tearing into her flesh. She was shaking as she stared down at her phone, couldn’t seem to stop. But neither could she look away. She kept thinking about how terrible it must’ve felt for him to read what she’d written about Mack.

“What is it?”

Mack must’ve heard her phone go off or her movements around the house, because he’d come up and was shoving his hair out of his eyes as he walked into her room wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts.

Swallowing hard, she let the hand holding her phone drop. “N-nothing.”

“I can see that you’re about to cry.”

She was about to cry, but she couldn’t tell him why. She was terrified he’d see what Ace had sent—not the “I hate you” and “lying bitch” parts but the parts where he quoted her journal. She didn’t want Mack to know her response to that night, how badly she’d wished he’d follow up and pursue the kind of relationship she’d always wanted with him. “No, I’m fine. It’s okay. It’s going to be...f-fine,” she said, as if the mere repetition would make it true—or at least more convincing.

“Give me your phone,” he demanded. “Let me see what’s going on.”

She clutched it to her chest. “No!”

“Is it your mother?”

She shook her head.

“Ace?”

“He—he’s angry. That’s all. He has a right to be angry. Anyone would be angry.”

Mack didn’t seem sympathetic to him. “How angry? What’s he saying?”

“Nothing. I can handle it.”

“Then why are you trembling?”

“I’m not. I’d better...get back to bed,” she said. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“That’s not a problem. But I hate that you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Like I said, I’m tired. That’s all. For some reason, I’m not...f-feeling very well,” she said and grabbed the wastebasket just in time to throw up.

Natasha didn’t get sick very often. She didn’t even have seasonal allergies. But she’d been under a great deal of stress for a long time. So maybe it wasn’t any wonder that her immune system would struggle.

For the next twenty-four hours, she couldn’t keep anything down. Even after she quit throwing up, she felt drained—too weak to get out of bed.

Fortunately, Mack was there to take care of Lucas, because she couldn’t have done it on her own. During the few minutes here and there that she was awake, she could hear them talking or playing, which both soothed and worried her. She could rest assured that her son was happy, safe and well. She trusted Mack with Lucas in that way. But her son was spending too much time with the man she’d always loved, despite all her efforts to stop loving him. She was afraid Lucas was getting attached, and that he’d suffer for it the way she had, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. Whatever she’d caught was too virulent to enable her to get out of bed.

Late Saturday afternoon, she could hear a show droning on in Lucas’s room when Mack came in carrying a bowl of soup on a cookie sheet he was using as a tray. “How’re you feeling?” he asked as soon as he saw that she was awake. “Any better?”

“I’ve quit throwing up,” she replied. “So there’s that.”

“How do you know? You haven’t eaten anything.”

“I’d rather not test it,” she joked. “My stomach’s too tender.”

“I’d take you to a doctor, but you are a doctor, so...is there something else we should be doing to get you well?”

“Nothing. Rest and plenty of liquids.”

“What about a painkiller?”

“Not on an empty stomach.” She frowned at the chicken noodle soup in the bowl; it didn’t look the least bit appetizing. “Thanks for the food, but, like I said, I’m not ready to eat.”

“You need to try. I have to get something down you. You haven’t eaten anything since Thursday.”

“It’s been that long?” She knew it had, but it sounded worse when stated that way.

“I’ve heard doctors make the worst patients. Now I know it’s true.”

“Fine. I’ll take a few bites. Where’s Lucas?”

“Watching a panda movie on the television we bought today.”

“Why’d you buy a TV?”

“Because you must’ve given yours to your ex along with everything else.”

“Lucas could’ve continued to use my iPad.”

“You needed a TV.”

She glowered at him. “No, I didn’t. I don’t care about TVs.”

“I can tell.” He set the tray to one side so he could adjust the pillows to make it easier for her to sit up. “You look completely spent.”

“I’m not surprised. I don’t remember ever being so weak. I’m sorry if you’re dying to get home and I’m holding you up. I’m sure my strength will return soon.”

“I’m not in any hurry. I rarely take off work. I figure Dylan owes me as much time as I need. Besides, my dad has been a little more reliable lately, so he’s been helping out again.”

He dipped the spoon in the soup and tried to feed her, but she gestured weakly at her lap. “Just set the cookie sheet here. I’ll do it.”

He did as she requested and watched as she summoned the energy to take her first bite. “What do you think’s wrong with you?” he asked, looking worried.

“The flu, I guess. I don’t know.”

“You’re a doctor, and that’s the best you can do?”

“If you understood how many viruses are floating around at any given moment, you wouldn’t be surprised.”

He watched her struggle to take another bite and moved as though he was tempted to help, but she held up a hand, proud of herself when she managed it on her own.

“Aiyana called yesterday.” He gestured at her phone. “I saw the call come in.”

She remembered the texts Ace had sent right before she threw up for the first time. “And my ex?”

“He’s been texting you. He’s getting pretty pissed off that you won’t respond.”

“What’s he saying?”

When Mack hesitated, she rolled her eyes. “Tell me. I know you read them.”

He looked like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I couldn’t resist,” he said, and then that endearing expression morphed into a scowl. “I knew the bastard was up to something.”

“Up to what?”

“Trying to hurt you as much as possible. I get the impression that’s been his goal for some time.”

“That’s what divorce looks like,” she said, letting her head fall back. “Please tell me you didn’t respond.”

“I may have said a few things...”

She felt her eyes widen. “From my phone? As me?”

“From me. I have his number now, too, so he’d better be careful.”

“You stole his contact information from me.”

“I figured you’d want me to have it.” His grin went a little lopsided. He was completely unrepentant, but she didn’t complain. She was too weak to care about what he said to Ace.

“Okay, whatever. I guess that bridge has been burned anyway.”

Mack lowered his voice. “He’s being a complete asshole about Lucas, too. That’s the part I don’t understand. Lucas is an innocent child. He hasn’t done anything wrong, and it’s not fair to try to punish you by hurting him.”

“Ace is hurt himself,” she tried to explain.

His lip curled in contempt. “He’s a big baby—that’s what he is.”

She opened her mouth to try to make Ace sound more sympathetic. She thought that was only fair, didn’t want to be that bitter ex who was always complaining about the person she’d been with.

But on second thought, she realized Mack was right. Ace had always felt sorry for himself if things didn’t go his way, tried to blame his unhappiness on others and looked for excuses as to why he could never do his part. So she didn’t bother defending him. “I feel gross. I need a shower.”

“It takes you fifteen minutes just to shuffle down the hall when you have to go to the bathroom. I don’t trust you to be able to stand up long enough for a shower. How about a bath instead?”

Grateful that she didn’t feel as though she was going to throw up what little soup she’d eaten, she nodded. “That’ll work.”

“Great. I’ll fill the tub.”

She slumped back onto the pillows. “Can you take the soup to the kitchen?” she asked before he could leave. “I can’t eat any more.”

“You barely touched it,” he complained but lifted the tray off her lap.

“I’m more interested in brushing my teeth and having that bath.”

She almost drifted off again before he returned. It’d been weeks since she’d been able to grab a solid night’s rest, and now she couldn’t stay awake for thirty minutes at a time.

“It’s ready,” he announced from the doorway. “You all set?”

“I think so.” Except that she wasn’t fully dressed. “I’ll make my way down there in a minute.”

“I’ll help you do it now.”

She hesitated. “Then...can you hand me something to put on?”

He did as she requested and turned away while she wiggled into a pair of shorts. But she swayed as soon as she came to her feet and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t scooped her into his arms.

“I got you,” he said.

Grateful for his steadiness and strength, she let her head rest on his shoulder as he carried her into the bathroom and didn’t even try to stop him when he stripped off her clothes and lowered her, naked, into the water. He’d always taken care of her when he was around. On some level, it seemed perfectly natural.

“You’re scaring me,” he said when she looked up at him before letting her eyelids slide closed.

“I’ll be okay. Believe it or not, I’m through the worst of it.” She heard the breathless quality to her own voice and couldn’t remember ever being quite so sick. “Can I...can I get my toothbrush?”

He put some toothpaste on the bristles and handed it over, and she managed to brush her own teeth. But she was even more exhausted afterward—as if she’d used up what small amount of energy her body had been able to store while fighting this illness.

He sat on the closed toilet seat, watching her, but after she was finished with her toothbrush, and he’d rinsed it off, she said, “I’m fine. You don’t have to stay.”

He didn’t move. “I’ve never seen you like this. I’m not leaving you.”

Since she didn’t feel capable of getting out of the tub by herself, let alone walking back to the bedroom, she didn’t argue with him. She rested for a few minutes before she started trying to wash her long hair, but her arms felt so rubbery she couldn’t get the shampoo out of it without taking breaks every couple of minutes to rest, so Mack took over. Kneeling on the floor next to her, he rinsed her head and put on some conditioner.

It felt good to get clean. But it felt even better to have Mack’s hands on her. Especially when he started to scrub her body. At first, he was careful to keep the soap between her and his palm as he washed her feet, her legs, her stomach and, finally, her breasts, but those simple actions were somehow still erotic. After all, it was him. The longer he scrubbed, the slower his movements became. He even stopped once when his thumb accidentally brushed her nipple.

Natasha felt every swipe, but she was too sick to have a problem with anything that made her feel better, and this definitely made her feel better. It wasn’t just his touch; it was the care. She’d felt isolated and alone for so long, was constantly striving to give love to her husband, her son and her patients, but she’d been running on empty.

She watched Mack’s face as he worked, saw a muscle flex in his cheek when he returned to her breasts. He had to be enjoying her bath as much as she was, because he certainly wasn’t in any hurry.

After he washed her shoulders and neck, which he rubbed for several minutes to ease the soreness, he let go of the soap—and when he touched her again, it was with his bare hands. He watched her as carefully as she watched him, and she guessed he was wondering if she’d accept the change.

When she didn’t stiffen or resist, his hands slid through the lather he’d already created, going over what he’d already washed, including her breasts—only now he let his palms and fingers slide slowly over her nipples before working his way back down her belly. Whatever part of her he touched felt immediately better. The gentle pressure he used even eased the soreness in her stomach. She was enjoying what he was doing so much she couldn’t help closing her eyes and only opened them when he moved steadily lower, slipping one hand between her legs as though he was tempted to focus on an even more sensitive area.

She gave him a look to let him know that would be going too far, and he grinned as if to say it was worth a shot and moved on.

By the time he finished, the water was growing tepid, and she was so relaxed she could barely keep her eyes open. She felt him pour clean water over her to rinse her off. Then he helped her out of the water, wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to her room, where he got her a clean T-shirt to put on before she dropped into bed and, once again, welcomed the dark void of sickness-induced sleep.

Mack closed Natasha’s door on his way out, then stood in the hall as he let go of a long breath. That bath he’d given her was...wow. He hadn’t felt that much sexual desire in a long time. But Natasha did something to him no other woman could, and it didn’t seem to matter how hard he fought it.

He checked on Lucas, who was holding his favorite toy—the sword he’d taken to the home improvement store—while watching TV. “You ready for a snack, buddy?” he asked, but Lucas was too engrossed in his program to hear him, let alone answer, so he figured the kid was okay.

By the time Mack had cleaned up dinner, Lucas came out of his room, so Mack pretended to let him help fix the screen door, which hung at an odd angle and squeaked every time someone opened it. Then they played hide-and-seek in the backyard and Lucas watched as Mack knocked down all the cobwebs in the garage, so that Natasha wouldn’t have to deal with them. As tough and determined as she’d always been—working every bit as hard as the rest of them at Amos Auto Body at only sixteen—he knew how she felt about spiders.

“Look,” Lucas said as he examined a daddy longlegs that was wobbling on its threadlike legs as it hurried to escape the swish of Mack’s broom. “He’s so cool!”

Mack couldn’t help chuckling. “I used to like spiders when I was a kid, too. I liked snakes even more and used to catch water snakes in the creek behind my house.”

“Can I see one?” he asked eagerly.

“Sure. I’ll catch you one someday.”

After they went in, Mack checked on Natasha, but she seemed to be sleeping soundly, so he backed quietly out of the room and read a stack of books to Lucas before putting him to bed.

It was after ten when his brother Rod called. Mack saw the call come in while he was entertaining himself watching sports clips on YouTube.

“’Lo?” he said, propping up his pillow as he leaned back on it.

“Hey, man, have you heard the news?”

Mack was mildly surprised by the intensity of Rod’s voice. This particular brother was pretty mellow, especially since he got married and became a doting stepparent to India’s daughter. “What news?”

“About Kellan.”

“Don’t tell me he got injured at football practice,” Mack said, sitting up at the sound of his nephew’s name. He’d always been particularly close with Dylan’s son.

“No. Nothing like that. He ran away last night.”

Mack came to his feet. “He...what?”

“He ran away.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Dylan and Cheyenne have never had any trouble with Kellan. What happened?”

“I don’t know. Neither does anyone else here. When Cheyenne got home from her friend’s house a few hours ago, she found a note on his bed that said he was running away and not to look for him.”

Mack couldn’t imagine his nephew writing that. “Doesn’t sound like anything Kellan would do.”

“Right? It’s taken everyone by surprise. So...you haven’t heard from him?”

“Not a peep.”

“Damn. We’ve been searching everywhere. I was hoping you might be able to tell us something.”

“Why would he call me? I’m not even in town.”

“Doesn’t matter. He adores you. All the kids in the family do.”

Mack had spent a lot of time with his nephew. He went to most of Kellan’s games and hung out with him sometimes on Saturdays, throwing a football to him, taking him to Tahoe to go skiing during the winter or just sitting around, watching sports together. “Well, I haven’t heard from him,” Mack reiterated. “But there must’ve been something that set him off.”

“Dylan claims there was nothing. Cheyenne says the same. They’re freaking out.”

Mack could understand why. This behavior was so uncharacteristic of their son. “He’s not answering his phone?”

“Not for any of us. Can you try him?”

“Of course.”

Mack disconnected and hit Kellan’s picture on his list of favorites, but the call transferred to voice mail on the first ring. He sent a text message, too, but he didn’t expect a response. He was pretty sure Kellan had turned off his phone.

“Did you get hold of him?” Rod asked eagerly, in lieu of a hello, when Mack called back.

“I’m afraid not,” Mack replied.

“Damn it! What’s going on? Where the hell is he?”

“Have you checked with his friends?”

“Dylan and Cheyenne are going down the list. Meanwhile, Grady and I are driving around town, looking for him at the places he likes to go.”

Whiskey Creek wasn’t a big town, but it would still be hard to find someone through such a random process. “I can’t imagine you’ll have any luck without some clue of where he’s at.”

“We have to do something,” Rod said. “I’ve never seen Dylan like this—not in years, anyway.”

Mack could only imagine what Dylan had to be feeling. Kellan meant so much to him. “Things like this don’t just pop up out of nowhere.”

“This one did. When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You should come as soon as possible. You have always been Dylan’s favorite. And you’re the one who’s closest to Kellan, too—other than Dylan. If we find him, and he refuses to come home, maybe you’ll be able to talk some sense into him. He obviously has some sort of problem with his parents, or he wouldn’t have run away.”

Mack shot a glance down the hall. “I don’t know if I can come right now. Natasha hasn’t been feeling well.”

“What’s wrong?”

“She says it’s just a virus, probably the flu, and she seems to be through the worst of it. She hasn’t thrown up all day, but—”

“Then she’ll be fine. Come home. I think it would mean a lot to Dylan. He’s always loved you more like a son than a brother.”

Because Mack was the baby of the family. He’d been just a child when Dylan had had to take over as the patriarch of the family. In many respects, Dylan was a father to him.

Mack drew a deep breath. Not only had Natasha stopped throwing up, her fever was gone. He could tell that when he’d bathed her, was pretty sure she was through the worst of it. The fact that she was finally sleeping so well was another sign.

After everything Dylan had done for him, he felt he needed to be there to support his brother. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

The next time Natasha woke up, she felt better. Lucas was in bed for the night, so the house was quiet when Mack brought her some more soup.

Neither of them mentioned what’d happened in the bathroom. Natasha figured they never would. With Mack, it had always been better to ignore those types of things—the times she’d caught him staring at her with naked desire; the kiss she’d given him the night before she left for college and the explosive way he’d reacted, as though he’d take her right then and there; the night they’d shared during Victorian Days years later. After all, the fact that he’d bathed her wasn’t a big deal. Maybe he’d gone a little further than anyone else would have, and she shouldn’t have let him. But the stronger she got, the more capable she would be of taking on the mantle of being a divorcée with a child to raise on her own and a career to rescue. The last thing she needed was more unrequited love, and she knew it.

She was almost over the flu or whatever she had. She figured one more day and she should be back on her feet.

“You look a lot better,” he said, sounding relieved as he settled the cookie sheet on her lap like he had before.

“I’m getting there.”

“I hope Lucas doesn’t catch whatever it is.”

“I hope neither of you do.”

While she ate, he crossed his arms and rocked back in the chair he’d put next to her bed, and she wondered what he was thinking. She could tell he had something on his mind and guessed it wasn’t about her bath. After they’d made love all those years ago, he’d completely ignored the fact that it’d ever happened, other than one awkward attempt to broach the subject after he heard she was pregnant, so she figured that was how he’d handle the bath, too. The bath was subtle by comparison, probably didn’t rate. But it had been just what she’d needed—a little TLC—and she couldn’t help being grateful that she could have someone’s care at a time when she had no one to rely on.

“I swabbed Lucas’s cheek,” he said, out of the blue.

She gripped the spoon she was using a lot tighter. “And? Did you send it in?”

“Not yet. I need to get your DNA, too, remember? And I was reluctant to mail it without your okay. I know you must be scared about...about how it could change things. I just wanted to be sure you were ready. I’d rather you not be upset if it turns out that Lucas is mine.”

She kept her gaze fastened to her bowl. “Will you be upset?”

“No.”

She couldn’t help looking up. “But then your brothers will know we... Well, they’ll know. Or...what are you thinking? Are you thinking we’ll just continue to call you Lucas’s uncle?”

“That’s what he calls them,” he said.

“Exactly. Then they won’t know anything has changed. That might actually be the best thing for him.”

He frowned. “We’ll wait to get the results before we decide what to do.”

“Okay.”

He put his chair back down on all four legs. “Do you believe Ace will really walk away even if I’m not Lucas’s father?”

She drew a deep breath. “I don’t know. He’s always been a quitter.”

“A quitter?”

“Yeah. If things get tough, he quits. He’s quit almost every sports team he’s ever belonged to, every solid job he’s had and our marriage. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave up on being Lucas’s dad, too. Because of that journal, he can walk away from all responsibility and blame me for doing it. That would be the easiest route for him.”

Mack rubbed his chin. “I knew I didn’t like him.”

The soup was warm and, thankfully, gentle on her stomach. That she was hungry and actually welcomed food indicated she was getting well. “What have you said to Ace since I got sick?”

“Not a lot. I’m just keeping him honest.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “That’s cryptic.”

“I told him to keep his name-calling and guilt-inducing bullshit to himself. You have enough to worry about. I don’t want him bothering you, especially because I have to leave in the morning.”

She let her spoon dangle between her bowl and her mouth as she looked over. She’d told herself she’d welcome the day he left. It was the only way to stop the longing—or lessen it—so she was surprised to feel such bitter disappointment. “Okay.” Unable to take another bite, she set her spoon back in her bowl. “Thanks for...everything. I owe you a lot, and I’ll get you paid for the truck and the groceries soon.”

“Forget about it. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Of course I do.”

“If Lucas is mine, I owe you a lot more than you owe me. Is it okay if I go ahead and swab your cheek?”

She nodded and he went out to get the kit. If Lucas is mine... Those were words she’d never expected to hear him say. “Will you give me the link where I can go to find the results of the DNA test?” she asked when he returned.

Using what looked like an extra-large Q-tip, he took the swab. “I’ll call you.”

“Just in case you don’t.”

His eyebrows came together. “Natasha, I didn’t call before because—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she broke in, determined not to let that night in Whiskey Creek further disrupt her life. “Just give me the link, and then it’s okay if you forget.”

“No problem.” He slipped the swab in its vial. “I’ll text it to you.”

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “Did you tell Lucas you were leaving, or...?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t have the chance. He was asleep before I got Rod’s call.”

“The auto body shop’s getting too busy to go on without you?”

“That’s not it. Kellan’s run away.”

“Dylan’s son? Why?”

“I don’t know. I need to go see what’s happening.”

She chuckled mirthlessly.

“What?”he said, looking confused.

“Nothing.” She just found it ironic that he tried so hard to be a brother to her instead of a lover, but when it came to any real family involvement, she was still very much an outsider. He had to know more about Kellan than he was saying.

“You finished?” he asked, gesturing at the soup.

She nodded.

He lifted the tray but didn’t walk out right away. “Will you be okay if I leave?”

“Of course,” she said with greater conviction than she felt. “I’m almost well. I should be fine by tomorrow morning.” At which point she’d wake up and Mack would be gone. She wondered how Lucas was going to react.

“Then I’ll see you again soon.” He bent and kissed her forehead.

“Sure thing,” she said as he went out, but if the DNA test came back such that Ace was Lucas’s father, it would probably be years before she saw Mack again. He’d return to Whiskey Creek, get caught up in his own life and the family business, and forget about the new location in Los Angeles—forget about her.

After all, he’d always let her go easily enough before.

But she wanted Mack to leave, didn’t she?

Absolutely. Then she could get on with her life. She hoped he never looked back.

Because she wasn’t going to be sitting around waiting for him.