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“Did I tell you I used to know his parents really well?” he asked her gently.
Lyrica shook her head.
“Yeah.” He grinned, a flash of the wicked sensualist she’d always heard he was gleaming for a second in his eyes. “There was a time, before Chaya returned to Somerset, that I wasn’t the man I am today. Rowdy had married. Dawg and Christa were engaged, and I was a little lost,” he stated, then grinned again. “Hell, I was a lot lost, I guess. I was skunk drunk, had just wrecked yet another motorcycle on some back road, was puking my guts up because my Chaya had just left town again, and I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do.” He winked with a flash of amusement. “Never occurred to me to just go get her. Right?”
Lyrica shook her head. Natches had never done things the easy way, she knew.
“Anyway.” Rising, he sat beside her, and Lyrica didn’t even question why she was turning to him, letting him draw her into his arms and against his chest.
He kissed the top of her head gently.
“So, here I am, about three days drunk, reeking of booze and probably my own b.o. My motorcycle was totaled, handlebars bent to hell and back, and this four-wheeler comes bouncing down that dirt track I was on. Seemed I’d done strayed onto Brock property, and Garrett Brock was real particular about having a Mackay around. He stared at me like I was scum, all distasteful and disgusted. And well, let’s just say I was spewing more F-bombs than social niceties that night.”
Someone gave a brief snort of laughter.
“So Garrett drags me to this pond, throws me in a time or two, laughing at all my Mackay rage, then drags me back out and pulls me back to his four-wheeler, where he starts pouring hot coffee down my throat. Seems he knew I was there before he started out from the house. Brought coffee, lots of it, a few sandwiches, and sat there with me till dawn while I poured out my itty-bitty heart.” He rubbed at her shoulder. Her back. “Then he proceeds to tell me how butt stupid I was for letting my woman out of my life. And how he hoped his son wasn’t too damned dumb to claim what was his when he finally met her. Then . . .” He paused, drew a deep breath, and lowered his voice. “Then, he made me swear on my honor, my life, my firstborn, and whatever else he could come up with that I might actually care anything about, that if his son did turn out that damned dumb, then I’d do what he was going to do. Put all my Mackay calculation and love of games into making sure his son smartened up and realized what he was losing. A week later, Chaya was back. He’d pulled a few strings, called some friends, and made sure I had another chance to make sure she never got away from me again.”
“I knew what you were doing,” she whispered when he paused. “I figured it out.”
He grunted, then whispered low enough that no one else could hear. “Don’t tell Zoey, ’kay? She’s still a work in progress.”
“He doesn’t love me, Natches,” she told him then.
This time, pure amused devilment filled the chuckle that sounded from him.
“Oh, Lyrica, sweetheart, that dumb-ass is so in love he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground and doesn’t want to know the difference if it means losing you.”
Lifting her head, Lyrica pulled back, staring back at him, knowing not to hope. Knowing she didn’t dare hope.
“Now, whether or not he’s smart enough to realize it, we’ll see.” He sighed. “But I’m going to tell you what his father told me to tell the woman he loved if he acted that stupid. A message he wanted me to give her.”
“For me?” she whispered.
He nodded at that. “For you, sweetheart. Don’t give up on him, he said. Graham will always be strong, always be stubborn, and letting go of himself enough to take what he needs above all things won’t be easy. But if you have to, he said, tell him to remember what his mother told him before he left for the Marines.”
“What did she tell him?” She frowned back at him.
“Hell if I know,” he admitted with a grin. “But now, Mary was a smart one, don’t think she wasn’t. Knew what she wanted the first time she saw Garrett Brock, and even Mackay charm couldn’t sway her. So whatever it was, remind him of it.”
“If he wakes up,” she whispered.
“He’ll wake up,” he promised her. “If he’s Garrett Brock’s son, and trust me, he is, then he’ll wake up.”
The operating room doors swung open and the surgeon, accompanied by Graham’s doctor, stepped into the waiting room.
Lyrica came quickly to her feet, too afraid even to breathe as she felt Natches put his arm around her shoulder and her mother move beside her.
“Kyleene.” The surgeon nodded to Kye as she came to her feet as well, Sam Bryce standing beside her as Graham’s sister fought to stem her tears.
“He’s out of surgery and everything looks promising,” he announced. “It was touch-and-go a time or two, but he’s strong, and he wants to live . . .”
Kye turned to Lyrica, her smile brimming with hope as her tear-drenched eyes overflowed once again.
“I told you,” Kye whispered as she covered the short distance to give Lyrica a quick, hard hug. “I told you. He won’t leave us. He’ll not leave us.”
He was alive, that was all that mattered, Lyrica promised herself as she returned Kye’s hug and they stood together, listening to the surgeon as he described the injuries and Graham’s recovery.
He was alive. She could live with it if he wasn’t smart enough to love her. She could live with it if he loved another.
