I realize they’ve been here in this little room, worried sick, for two days. I take in her rumpled clothes and dark-circled eyes. “Have you eaten? Slept?”

She frowns, but doesn’t answer.

“I think you need to get some sleep, in a real bed, and a meal in you. It will make you feel better. Come on.” I rise to my feet, offering her my hand. “Let me take you home.”

“No, I can’t leave Nana.”

“Just for a couple hours, then I’ll bring you back.”

Hale glances at me, and we communicate without speaking. Our disagreement momentarily aside, this is about what’s best for Macey. Hale nods in her direction, encouraging her. “Let Reece take you home, Mace. Just to shower and rest.”

She sighs, but gives him a tight nod and takes my hand. “Okay.”

This is what she needed me to do all along. Take control and look after her needs. That damn throbbing pain is back in my chest.

The drive to her apartment is quiet as Macey stares out the window, obviously worried. After she showers, I tuck her into her unmade bed and tug the fluffy white duvet up to cover her.

She lets out a gentle sigh. “You’ll wake me in a few hours, and take me back to the hospital?”

Her eyes lock onto mine, and I know she’s putting her trust and faith into me when I’ve let her down the last few times we were together.

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“Yes, of course I will.”

She closes her eyes and rolls onto her side, hugging the pillow to her chest.

I gaze down at her a moment, hating how I’ve let her down. She said she wasn’t mad, just disappointed in me, but I never wanted to be a source of disappointment for her. She has no job, a cheating ex, and a sick nana to stress over. I don’t want to add any more stress to her life. I just want to be here. For her. With her.

I head out into the living room and sink down onto the couch. I lay my head on the armrest of the sofa, and as the minutes tick past, I realize that I want to be in her life. For real. Without any of the Dominant, macho bullshit to protect my heart. I just want her. I always have.

She’s the one girl I never forgot. And trust me, I tried. For years I tried to wipe my brain clean of the memories of her sweet and loving nature, her kindness, her spark. I sought out new companions to replace those memories with dirty ones. Apparently it didn’t work, because I still want her every bit as much as I did before. Maybe even more.

But she thinks I’m a complete prick, so what am I supposed to do?

• • •

While Macey slept, I attempted to make the banana pancakes she once made for me, but it ended with a mixing bowl of batter and a few burnt pancakes dumped down the trash before she woke. I don’t know how to cook, and apparently it’s harder than they make it look on TV. By the time I hear her stirring, I have takeout waiting for us on the counter, and I’m hoping it’s the thought that counts.

Tentative footsteps cross the wooden floor as Macey enters the kitchen. “That smells good.” Her eyes wander over the white pizza box on the counter. It seems she wants to look anywhere but directly at me.

Fuck, I wonder if this will get easier over time.

I shift a step toward her. “I hope you still like ham and pineapple.”

She nods. She’s got sleep lines across one cheek, and her long hair is tied up in a messy bun, but she looks gorgeous. Natural.

“And there’s salad too.” I grab the plastic bag on the counter and remove two side salads and a variety of dressing containers. I wasn’t sure which she liked.

“I hate salad.” She smiles wryly.

The mood lightens immediately, and my posture relaxes. “I do too.” I set the containers of salad aside and grab two plates while she opens the pizza box and places a slice on each of our plates.

We eat sitting together in the living room while her TV plays some daytime game show that neither of us is familiar with. We make small talk about the contestants, but otherwise eat mostly in silence. Things between us are still strained, but this isn’t the time to discuss that. Her thoughts are on Nana, as they should be.

After our meal, I drive her back to the hospital. Hale and Brielle are just leaving her room, and there are tears glistening in Brielle’s eyes.

I take Macey’s hand and hold it tenderly, as if that will shield her from whatever bad news we’re about to hear. “What’s going on?” I ask when we get closer.

They share a happy look. “She’s awake. And talking. They think the damage from the stroke is minimal.”

Macey practically sags with relief against me. “Thank God. Can I see her?”

Hale nods. “Yes. For a few minutes. She still needs her rest.”

Assuming it’s family only, I’m about to let Macey’s hand go when she tugs me along with her toward Nana’s room. It signals to me that I still mean something to her, that maybe she still needs me in her life. Or maybe she’s just afraid to go in alone.

I haven’t seen Nana in a long time, since last Christmas, I think, when she gave me the most hideous orange-colored hand-knit sweater. But as soon as my eyes land on her, my knees weaken. Her normally mocha-colored skin is ashen and pale, and a variety of tubes and wires connect her to a multitude of machines. The soft hum of the devices and the beeping in the background do not create a soothing environment. My grip tightens on Macey’s hand.

“Nana . . . ,” she says softly, and her voice breaks.

“Come here, child,” Nana whispers weakly.




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