Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) (20 page)

“If I could go back and . . .” His head drops.

“Leo and I fought the morning he died,” I confess that one thing that no one knows. “Instead of giving him a kiss goodbye, I glared at him for not taking out the fucking trash. It sounds stupid and because of that, I regret not giving him one last kiss because I was stubborn. If I could, I’d go back but I can’t.”

“Sorry, about that. It must be hard to get over it, when the last time you were with him you were upset at him.” He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and speaks. “No, when I say go back, I meant back to see them. I was warned to stay away from them.”

“By them?” He shakes his head. “Then who? By the sounds of it, they’re nice people and you always love your children no matter what they do. Take the chance, don’t waste time and live with that regret for whatever time you have left.”

“It doesn’t matter. Plus, I would need money to take the time off,” he explains. “The bills for the hospital will arrive soon.”

I frown and wonder if he means his father’s bills. But before I ask, he pulls me into his arms and I don’t fight him. Tonight he needs me just as much as I need him. Using a broken man to hold my shattered pieces isn’t smart, but using my brain is the last thing I want to do. Giving myself another hall pass, I snuggle myself in his arms, enjoying the safe haven they provide.

“I
have to go to bed,” Mackenzie says, snuggling closer to my body. “You need to leave.” My arms tighten their hold, as if trying to keep her from leaving me.

Yes, going to my room next door is the right thing to do. But tonight, I need her soft curves against my body to wash away my past and patch together my shattered heart. Steven died and what punched me in the chest were the memories of the Deckers. Some years ago, Gabe had an episode and the rumors of his death spread like wildfire during a drought. I flew to Santa Barbara fearing that I lost him. Which I did, that’s when the truth of what a fucking asshole I had been came to light.

Facing the consequences included losing the only family I’ve ever known. Today, Mac and her amazing children are the ones making me stay in one piece. Sober. Because the idea of not being able to say I’m sorry to the Deckers or saying goodbye before my life is over is killing me. What if today was my last day?

I’d want a repeat of Harper’s birthday, ending it with Mackenzie tangled with me. Holding her, talking to her, and being close to her makes me whole. Happy. For some fucking reason I want to tell her that if I only have a day left, I’d prefer to spend it with her—Harper and Finn, too. Fantasizing that they’re mine to protect and love. In this make believe world we’d make love after a tiring day like today. But I don’t know if she’s ready for a new relationship. Or if she feels something for me.

Pretending that she belongs to me, is reaching a new level of crazy. I want to offer her everything while I beg her to pretend that she cares for me as much as I do for her. This small beautiful woman crashed into my life reminding me of the good things that have happened to me. She’s one of the best things happening now. Real or not, I have her tonight. And like yesterday, I take advantage of our vulnerability and hold her, pretending she’s mine. She’s the lifeline I have for now, because I refuse to end like Steven. Alone and loveless.

Should we talk about the possibility of something else between us? What should I say? Should I explain the feelings that are bottled up inside me? My heart beats, full of need and desire, for her. She’s the only one who can take away everything that’s wrong inside me and replace it with goodness. The goodness she radiates to the world.

Lowering my face towards hers, I capture her lips. Slow, gentle as if asking her for permission to allow my mouth to make love to hers. Searching for her soul within her body, that same soul that has crumbled a few times in front of me. The same soul I want to protect for the rest of my life. I try to talk myself into understanding that maybe this might only be for tonight, because tomorrow isn’t promised.

“Everything is going to be alright,” I blurt out, as I break the kiss. Her eyes shine, her hands hold my face, and she nods her head. Because I need to feel closer to her, I decide to leave. “It’s time for me to leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Is everything alright?” She asks, confusion written all over her face.

“Yes, it is,” I kiss her forehead and leave the place.

Ever since my father died, things have changed between Mac and me. We live in a different place where we seek each other out. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are with the kids. At night, we spend time in her living room while I play my guitar. For the first time in years, I celebrated Thanksgiving. Finn is like a little duckling following behind me when I’m around and he loves it when I play for him. He responds to music. Old McDonald is our favorite song. Mac’s too, as she can hear Finn mooing and quacking away. I can feel it; the words will come soon.

Pretending that I belong with them is easy. Harper’s sassiness has me wrapped around her pinky finger. Finn is my companion and Mac . . . she’s the sun fighting the dense clouds and illuminating my days and nights. But is it okay that she has that much power in my life? Does she even have that kind power over my heart? I fear slipping into the cracks, and if it happens, my heart will take a beating. Will I lose myself the same way I did when AJ was no longer mine?

I should stop whatever is going on with us. But instead, I stop analyzing it and head out to work. As predicted, the medical bills arrived. Two thousand dollars for a visit to the ER slashed my savings. It’s going to take me a few months to pay the entire amount and then start saving again. Some days, I want to ignore the figurative restraining order imposed by Mason Bradley and head into off-limit territory, or at least make the call. I wouldn’t care if he fucks up my face again if it means that AJ would help Finn. But for now, I work hard in the hope that what I make is enough. Christmas is coming up soon and Harper has her eye on a guitar. Finn . . . I’ll find something for him, and for Mac, too.

When I cross the driveway from Molly’s house to Mac’s, I come to a halt. There’s a short man holding a box with one arm and knocking on the door with the other.

“May I help you?” I ask, walking closer to him.

“I’m looking for Porter Kendrick,” he says, reading the label on top of the box.

“That’ll be me,” I respond.

He hands me the box and turns his attention to the messenger bag he carries over his shoulder. Pulling out a manila folder, he takes out a few papers then clears his throat. “My name is Ernest Johnson, a lawyer for Butler, Kepler, and Associates. Our offices in Alabama worked a pro-bono case for Steven Kendrick. We’re carrying out his last wishes. Those are his ashes.”

As he points to the box I hold, my eyes widen. Shit, why is he giving me ashes? “Why me?”

“Mr. Kendrick left his estate to you.”

“Estate?” My father was broke. Just like I am.

“Well, it is a technical word. It isn’t much money, only his life insurance.” He hands me the papers and a pen. “Sign the top paper, the bottom one and the check is yours. Here is my business card if you have any questions for the next step. There’s a letter that he left too.”

I sign the papers, hand it to him, and look through the other documents that explain what my father left and the check for seventeen thousand dollars.

“Where is the letter?”

“If you read at the bottom, it says that you can’t claim it until you do what he asked for.” I read through it and there’s only one word. Change. With a slight nod, Ernest Johnson leaves me standing in the cold and not knowing what to do with what I’m holding.

As the lawyer walked toward his black sedan, I knocked on Mackenzie’s door and unloaded what just happened. She took the shipping box away from my hands and opened it. It’s a black urn; thankfully, she didn’t open it to verify if there was something inside. “I have no idea what to do with it,” I finally say after walking back and forth from the entrance to the dining room several times.

Hell, this is the last thing I expected. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. A letter, an insurance policy, and his ashes. I only want the letter. What is it that he has to say?

“I can set the ashes next to Leo’s,” Mac says, and I don’t know what’s more disturbing: her serenity regarding the box she now holds, or that her husband’s ashes are in my house. Well technically it’s her place, but I used to live here.

“Don’t they have to be at a cemetery?”

She shrugs, shakes her head, and sets the box on top of the coffee table. “You should use that money to look for your foster parents.” She walks toward me, her expression filled with worry. “Sometimes we get an opportunity to write a new story. This might be your chance to find peace with your family.”

Mac is right; today should mean something. Tomorrow is another day, but nothing guarantees me that it’ll be here. Some of the questions I ask myself every night include what would happen if I looked for them, if I found them. Would Chris let me speak? Gabe might not forgive me. That’s my biggest fear, that when I decide to take the step, they’ll turn me away and show me to the door.

“This is enough money for you to take time off.” She hands me the check.