Can't Stop Loving You (27 page)

They talked quietly for a few more minutes.

“I have to go now, Red. It's time to notify Howard. Time he gets out here.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Sure.” And he disconnected.

Maggie stared at the phone for all of two seconds before she punched in Cash's number.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey, sweetheart. What's up in the city?”

“Are you busy?”

“No.” His tone turned serious. “You okay?”

“Not really, but nothing's wrong here. Doc died this morning.”

“Son-of-a— How do you know?”

“Brawley called. He found him. He drove out to Doc's when he didn't show up for a lunch they'd planned.”

“Oh, damn!”

“Cash, if there's any way you can swing it, he needs you. Right away. He's at Doc's alone with him.”

“Why didn't he call me?”

“Male pride? I don't know. I do know Brawley isn't in a good place right now. He's calling the coroner, but he needs somebody there with him, Cash.”

“Yeah, he does. Doc was like a second father to him.”

“I don't know when the next flight leaves, but if I can get a seat on it, I'm on my way home. I'll get out of here somehow or another today. Somebody should be there with Brawley now, though, not in five or six hours. Not tomorrow.”

“I'm hopping in my truck even as we speak. Thanks for calling me, hon. I appreciate it.”

“I love you, Cash.”

“Love you, too.”

She hung up. Throwing her door open, she called out, “Zandra?”

“Yes?”

“I hate to ask you to do this, but could you make a flight reservation for me? The earliest one you can find.”

“Already on it.” She held up her laptop.

“Thanks!”

“Are you okay?” Zandra gave her a careful look.

“An old friend died. Doc Gibson.”

“Ah, he called while we were at dinner celebrating your showing.”

Maggie nodded. “He owned the animal clinic Brawley took over.”

“They were close?”

“Very. Brawley's the one who found him.”

Zandra grimaced. “That's a tough one.”

“Yes.”

“You never did tell me, even after repeated questions and nagging, what's between you and Brawley. It's impossible to miss the vibes. You love him, don't you?”

Maggie's chin came up. “Loved. Past tense. A long, long time ago.”

“Hmmm. Not sure I believe that, but whatever you say.” She bent over her keyboard. “I'll let you know when I have something nailed down.”

“Okay. In the meantime, I'll take care of what absolutely needs done here.”

“Leave me a list. I can handle most of it,” Zandra mumbled absently.

Maggie zipped around making phone calls and putting the finishing touches on a couple projects. Much easier to keep busy than to dwell on what Brawley was going through right now.

Doc had had a good life, but still—He should have had more time to enjoy his retirement.

She started when Zandra put an arm around her.

“There isn't anything here that I can't take care of or that can't wait.” She handed Maggie a torn-out notebook page. “Your flight number and times. You have just enough time to run home and grab an overnighter. I'm sure you have plenty of clothes in Maverick Junction or at your shop there.”

Maggie nodded, choked up again.

“Go. Brawley's a good man, Maggie, and despite what you claim, he's still in love with you. Right now your place is with him, not here.”

“I called Owen and explained everything to him.”

“And he told you to get out of here and get back to Maverick Junction, didn't he?” Zandra asked.

Maggie nodded and hugged her. Picking up her purse and briefcase, she started for the door. “You're sure?”

“I'm positive.”

From the taxi, she called her mom.

“Pops called me,” her mom said. “I'm sorry, honey. He told me Brawley was the one who found Doc.”

“Yes. My plane leaves in about two hours. Can you pick me up?”

“In Austin?”

“Yes.” She gave her the flight number and arrival time.

“Daddy and I will be there. Do you need us to bring anything along?”

“Nope. Just you.” She started to cry. All afternoon, through the call with Brawley and afterward, she'd held back her tears. Now, with her mom, she could let go.

“Have a safe flight, baby. We'll see you in a few hours.”

T
he setting sun painted the sky in vibrant streaks of pink and orange as her plane touched down. Staring out the window, Maggie wondered where Doc was right now. She didn't believe life ended when the last breath left the body.

Was he up there in those picture-postcard clouds? If so, she wished he'd help Brawley. It tore her up to think of his suffering, the sorrow that had seeped through the phone lines.

Gathering up her purse and bag, she walked out into the concourse and made her way to the luggage area. And there stood her mom, arms outstretched to comfort her. Maggie almost fell into her embrace.

Her dad came up behind her to take her bag. “I'm sorry, honey. Sorry as hell. Brawley and I haven't seen eye to eye for some time now, but it's a hard thing he did today.”

The evening sky had deepened by the time they reached her dad's Buick. They stopped once for coffee and a bathroom break. After a short discussion about what had happened that day, her mom and dad kept the conversation light.

Still, the drive seemed endless to Maggie. By the time they passed the Maverick Junction city limit's sign, the night was pitch-black.

Her mom half-turned in the seat. “Will you stay with us tonight? Pops's house is closed up right now. They're at Dottie's.”

Maggie pushed her hair away from her face. “I don't know. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't even thought about it.” Her mind tussled with the question. “Would you drive by Brawley's, Dad? I want to see if he's home.”

“Sure.”

When they turned onto the street, they saw lights on in the downstairs, but all the upstairs windows were dark. Brawley's SUV was parked at a slant in the driveway, though.

“Pull in, Dad.”

He did, and she hopped out. Leaning in, she grabbed her purse and bag.

“What are you doing?” her mom asked.

She closed the back door and crouched so she could see into the car. “I came home for Brawley. Because he called. Because he needs me.”

“What makes you think he's up there?” her dad asked. “Doesn't look like there's a soul home.”

“His SUV's here.”

“He might be with Cash or Ty, honey. Or maybe he's at the clinic. I'm sure with everything that happened today he missed a lot of appointments and has things to take care of.”

“You're right. About all of it. If he isn't here, I'll visit with Dottie and Pops for a while. One of them can drive me home, or I'll call you and you can come for me.” Belatedly, she added, “If that's okay.”

“Of course it is,” her dad answered. “If he's not here, he might not return anytime soon, honey.”

“Understood.”

“I don't want you hurt again.”

“I know.” She blinked back her tears.

Dottie came to the kitchen window and peeked out as her dad backed down the drive. Seeing Maggie, she waved. Maggie waved back, but walked past, slowly heading up the stairs.

Fletch stepped out. “Maggie!”

“Hey, Pops.” She stopped on the third step and waited till he came to her.

He squeezed her so hard she could barely breathe. “Geez, it's good to see you, girl. Sorry it has to be under these circumstances, though.”

She nodded and hugged back. “Is Brawley home?”

“Yeah, the boy's up there. He's hurting.” Fletch hugged her again. “He could use a friend right about now.”

Barking sounded behind her, and Maggie turned. “What's that?”

“Holmes and Watson.”

“Doc's hounds.”

“Yeah.” Pops scratched his head, the gray hair a little thinner than she'd remembered. “They, ah, needed somewhere to go. Doc was a good friend. Least Dottie and I can do is give his dogs a home.”

In the moonlight, she saw a sheen of tears in her grandfather's eyes. “So many people loved him, Pops.”

“Yep.” He clapped her on the arm. “Go on up. See if you can help the kid.”

She nodded and picked up her carry-on.

“Want me to tote that up for you?”

“No. I'm good.”

Not a single light was on. Still she pounded on the door. Nothing. She pounded again.

“Go away.”

Her gut instinct had been right. Like a hurt animal, he'd crawled away to hide.

Not going to happen. She pounded hard enough that her hand would be bruised in the morning.

“Go away!”

“You open this damn door, Brawley Odell, or I swear I'll go down and get Dottie's key. You know her as well as I do. No way she'll stay downstairs. She'll come up with me, and then instead of one, you'll have two—”

He jerked open the door. “Maggie, leave. I don't want you here.” His body swayed unsteadily.

Her chin went up. “If you didn't want me here, you shouldn't have called.” Her nose wrinkled. “Geez, you're a mess. This place smells worse than Bubba's on Sunday morning.”

She pushed past him, dropping her overnighter on the kitchen counter.

He raked a hand through his hair and swore ripely when she turned on the overhead light.

Covering his eyes with one hand, he said, “Maggie, I swear if you don't—”

“Huh-uh. You already swore. Quite nicely, too.” She tapped a finger to his lips. “You kiss your mama with the same mouth those words passed through? Huh?”

His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes rumpled, his beard heavy. She couldn't decide if the eyes were the result of tears or the empty beer bottles strew on the floor and coffee table.

She almost hoped it was the beer. Her stomach twisted at the thought of him sitting up here all alone in the dark crying for a lost friend.

A yapping machine started up in the bedroom, then shot across the floor at her.

She knelt to scoop up the tiny fur ball. “Well, hello. Aren't you the cutest little thing?” Brows quirked, she turned to Brawley. “Marvin?”

“Yeah, the worthless mutt.”

She covered the dog's ears. “He doesn't mean it. He loves you.” Brawley muttered what he thought about that while the dog slathered Maggie's face with kisses. She chuckled. “At least somebody's glad to see me.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Maggie? Why'd you come? You're a busy woman.”

“A friend called. A friend who's had the worst kind of day. I'm never too busy for a friend.” She set the dog on the floor and moved to Brawley. He stood unmoving, watching her through slitted eyes.

“A friend?”

“Yes.”

Ignoring the back-off warnings, she simply stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Words are totally inadequate. I'm so sorry, Brawley. I know how much you loved Doc.”

His chin trembled, but he said nothing.

“You can't hold it in. It'll eat you alive.”

When his eyes filled with tears, he dropped his head, buried his face in her hair.

“What happened?”

“Howard said it was a massive coronary. Hard and fast. He doubts Doc had time to know what hit him. He was standing with his morning coffee one second and gone the next.”

“So he didn't suffer.”

She felt his head shake.

“I fed Holmes and Watson, then sat on the floor with Doc until Howard came. I waited till they—” His breath caught. “Till they took him away. Cash came. He waited with me. Thanks for calling him.”

She nodded.

“Your grandfather has a scanner and heard the call-out. He came, too. Got there way faster than Howard. He waited with Cash and me, Maggie. Just waited with me.”

She knew he was fighting back tears. Knew how hard the telling was. How important it was. So she didn't interrupt.

“Fletch took the dogs with him. He said he and Dottie would be glad to take care of them for his old pal and fishing buddy.”

A low keening sound deep inside Brawley worked its way out. The floodgates opened, and his tears started.

She said nothing, simply held him.

Finally, embarrassed, he pulled away, rubbing his hands down his face. “Sorry. Shit, I'm so sorry. I'm okay now. That was the beer talking, making me all sloppy.”

“Bull. That was your heart breaking, Brawley, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. It proves you're human—like the rest of us.”

His brow jerked up.

“Have you eaten?”

He blinked at the smooth segue. “I'm not hungry.”

“I'll assume that means no. Good.”

He frowned.

“I've had a long day, and I'm starving. Besides, it'll give me a chance to cook for you.”

He snorted. “Right. Our own Julia Child.”

“Hey! I might not be Julia Child, but I can cook. In fact, I'm a darn good cook.”

“When I look at you, sugar, domestic goddess and chef are the very last two labels that come to mind.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“So what does come to mind?”

“You fishing?”

“Maybe.”

“Here's the thing about that, darlin'. You never can tell what you might snag on the end of that hook.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “I'll risk it.”

“Okay, don't say I didn't warn you. And, remember, you asked for it.”

“Oh, geez. Maybe I don't want to know.”

“Nope. Too late.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Sensual. A little bit of a wild child.” He held up a hand and ticked them off on his fingers. “Creative. Sexy-as-hell. Bright. Fun. Tenacious as all get-out. Those are a few that come to mind. But cook? Nope.”

She chuckled.

“What? No comment?”

“None that I can think of right now. Go take a shower, Brawley. You need one. By the time you're done, dinner will be ready.”

“Good luck with that. Have you taken a look in my fridge?”

“Not yet. Should I be scared?”

“Yes, be afraid. Be very afraid.” With that, he headed off for the bathroom. “By the way,” he tossed over his shoulder, “I don't have a shower. Just this great big old claw-foot tub.”

“That should do the trick. Don't drown yourself while you're in there.”

“Hah-hah.” Unbuttoning his shirt, he came back to stand in the doorway. “Don't suppose you'd care to join me?”

“Not tonight. I have KP duty.”

“One call for take-out pizza, and I could relieve you of that.”

She shook her head.

“See? Tenacious.”

She laughed and faced the fridge, prepared for a full-on battle.

When Brawley returned, his hair wet but combed, he'd shaved and pulled on a clean shirt and pants. His feet were bare. He studied the table, then looked toward his fridge. “You found all this in there?”

“I cheated. Either your mom or Babs has been taking pity on you. You actually have a pretty well-stocked freezer.”

“Yeah, they both drop off casseroles once in a while. Annie and Sophie do, too.”

“Not bad. So why aren't you eating the food instead of stockpiling it?”

He shrugged. “I forget it's in there. By the time I leave the clinic, it's late. I stop by the café and Sally feeds me. No dishes to wash that way, either.”

“Well, sit down. I think you'll like this. Homemade chicken pot pie. Comfort food.”

He pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Smells good.”

“It does that.” She scooped him up a serving and set it in front of him. He looked exhausted and totally wrung out.

As they ate, she wished she had some kind of magic wand to wave over him to take away the pain. But she didn't. Time would help, but nothing would ever completely erase it.

He cleaned his plate, but she doubted he'd tasted a thing.

She yawned. Her body clock was on Eastern time.

“Time for bed, Brawley.”

“Oh, yeah?” He tried for cocky, but it fell short.

“Yes.”

“I'm tired, Maggie. So tired.” He rubbed his eyes, then met hers. “In the morning I have to go to the funeral home. Make arrangements.”

“I'll go with you.”

His eyes, so sad, so sorrowful, stared into hers. “You're a good woman, Maggie Sullivan.” With that, he headed into the bedroom, Marvin trailing behind.

Scowling at the dog, Brawley scooped him up one-handed and dumped him in the center of the bed. “Spent a fortune on a fancy little bed for him, but the damned thing won't sleep in it. I've tried shutting him out, but he yaps and yaps till I let him in with me.”

He unsnapped his jeans. “It's not right. I'd thought about a dog, but he was gonna be big. Masculine. Something useful. One that could hunt ducks or rabbits maybe. Instead, I'm stuck with Marvin here.”

Kicking off his pants, tossing his shirt to the floor, Brawley flopped onto the bed, sprawled on top of the covers.

Maggie walked into the room. “Move.”

“What?”

“You need to turn back the covers and crawl between the sheets. You'll sleep better.”

He slid to the far side, and she pulled back the spread and top sheet. Grunting, he rolled over.

When she leaned in to cover him, he caught her hand. “I don't want you to go.”

“I won't.”

Wordlessly, she stripped down to her T-shirt and panties and slid in beside him. He wrapped himself around her and laid his head on her chest.

“Did you feel like this when our baby died?”

His question, so softly spoken, nearly took her down for the count.

“Maggie?”

“Yes. Yes, Brawley, I did.”

“Oh, God, Mags, I'm so sorry.” His hand tightened at her hip.

“I am, too.”

A sob tore through him.

She ran her fingers through his hair and murmured words of comfort as they mourned both the loss of a friend and their baby. Brawley's tears soaked into her shirt.

She'd never seen this Brawley. This vulnerable Brawley. He'd never shown her this side of himself, not even in their most intimate moments. This Brawley crawled beneath her skin and left her almost as defenseless as him.