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He sifted his hands through Calla’s soft hair as she slept against his chest. His gut clenched and he felt fucking nauseated at the thought of leaving them.
What if he didn—
Shit. No. He couldn’t think like that…
Could he?
He jerked forward. Calla stirred in his arms and he froze. When she settled, he moved her gently so that she was laying on the bed.
Then he got up and paced back toward the window.
The thought returned—what if?
What if he didn’t go back for Bone? What if he forgot that part of his life had ever happened? What if the happiness he’d found here could actually last?
He sat for hours watching Calla sleep. Waiting for Liam to come home. The others got back from the bar a little after Liam left but they were quiet and didn’t wake Calla.
By three a.m. he’d memorized every contour of Calla’s face but he wasn’t any closer to deciding what he should do. He climbed into bed beside Calla. Her body was so warm and when he slept with her and Liam, the nightmares didn’t come.
He was so tired. So, so tired.
Ever since Ben had died, Mack spent every spare moment thinking about taking his revenge on Bone. Fuck the consequences.
He was born shit and he’d die shit, right?
There was nothing but darkness for him. No future. No joy. Just doing what needed doing and then either spending the rest of his days rotting in a cell for it, or, more likely, getting cut down by another of the Devil’s Spawn.
But… maybe, just maybe, choosing his future was as simple as that—a choice. Shit could be fertilizer, right? If there was the right person nurturing whatever was growing.
His eyes fell on Calla again. Someone bright and full of life like her.
Christ, he was tired. Fucking delirious if he was having such flowery fuckin’ thoughts.
He let his head drop back against the pillows. Calla was so warm in his arms. She even smelled like sunshine.
He fell asleep, that old song playing in his head, you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Calla asked for what felt like the hundredth time as she and Mack parked the trailer in the designated area. They were towing Calla’s horse and Xavier and Mel were bringing Tornado over from the stables where they’d boarded them for the night.
One look at Calla’s anxious face made Mack want to punch Liam in the fucking face. Especially on a day that was this important to her. She’d only brought it up once, but Mack knew she had hopes of winning one of the cash prizes today. She had a real shot at it. What she’d accomplished with Painter in three months was fucking phenomenal.
But she needed every ounce of focus she had. Which Liam fucking knew.
“You saw the text,” Mack said, trying to make his voice reassuring even though he felt anything but. “He’s fine. He’ll be here soon.” The text had been three lines long. See you this morning at arena. Went for drive last night. Didn’t want to wake you when I got back.
Calla put a hand on his arm, stopping him from getting out of the car. “It’s okay if last night upset you. I know you two can be…” she looked to the roof of the car before meeting his gaze again, “volatile. But I know how much you care about him.”
Mack paused, frowning. Shit, was she right? Was he so mad at the bastard because he was worried about him?
He pushed the car door open. “Wouldn’t have killed him to have fucking called,” he mumbled under his breath.
Calla came around the front of the truck cab and threw her arms around his waist. “Everything’s going to be okay.” She looked up at him, eyes searching. “Right?”
His chest went tight at seeing her uncertainty. “You bet your ass. Everything’s gonna be great.” He gave her a squeeze, and then a quick smack on the ass. “Now let’s go get your prizewinner ready.”
She smiled and nodded. He was about to follow her to the back of the trailer rig when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Sammy was Facetiming him.
Mack frowned. Sammy knew the competition was today. He wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t have something important.
“I’m gonna go check on Torpedo, okay, hon?” Mack called out to Calla.
“See you in there.”
Mack was already striding away. The phone stopped ringing but started right back up again. Mack finally answered when he got to an empty part of the huge parking lot where no one would overhear him.
“What’s up, Sammy?”
But it wasn’t Sammy’s face he saw on the other end. It was some fucking meathead.
“Who the fuck are y—”
“Bone’s got a message for you,” the meathead said.
Mack’s blood went cold. The screen shifted like the guy was moving the phone around. It settled on a computer screen that was obviously some kind of camera feed.
