The Summer He Came Home (27 page)

The smell of coffee penetrated the fog inside his head and slowly brought Cain around. He groaned and rolled over, cursing as a twinge of pain ran across his shoulders. God, he’d slept like absolute shit, if he’d slept at all.

His muscles were stiff. Really stiff, though he supposed manual labor would do that to you. He flexed his arms and cursed. Guess he wasn’t in as good a shape as he’d believed, though to be honest, the mattress was a piece of crap—it was like sleeping on a slab of concrete—and this had been the first night in weeks he’d actually slept on it.

He missed Maggie’s bed and the feel of her warmth against his body. The way she burrowed into his side as if she were a part of him—
that
feeling was something he wanted to know every damn morning.

Arm flung above his head, he stared at the ceiling and frowned. He was still pissed off. He should have stayed. He should have refused to leave until they’d had it out, but then…if he’d pushed things, forced the issue, it might have made the situation worse.

Maggie needed some time to process. She’d come around. He hoped.

Cain groaned and rolled out of bed.

Maybe he was in too deep. His feelings had grown over the last several weeks. He knew it. She
had
to know, and it frustrated the hell out of him that he didn’t know where he stood with her. Quicksand was easier to navigate than the mystery of Maggie O’Rourke.

Cain rolled his neck and swore under his breath as another wave of pain crossed his shoulders. He gritted his teeth. There was no damn way he was going to accept they were done.

Cain followed the scent of coffee and moved toward the open-concept kitchen located opposite the bedrooms. It was the focal point of the cottage, with a large island and lots of greenery. The cupboards were old, probably oak, but someone had decided to paint them bright yellow, which wasn’t so bad, except they clashed horribly with the burnt-orange countertop and purple pottery that was strewn everywhere.

He glanced to the right. The wall of windows allowed the lake to come inside the space, and he spied Mac down on the dock, reading the morning paper. His eyes narrowed. Or was that
Hollywood
Scene
in his hands?

“You look like shit, mate.”

Cain grabbed a mug from the cupboard, filled it with some hot brew, and took a sip. Dax grinned at him and raised his glass in a mock toast. He was in his boxers—Union Jack, no surprise there—and his pasty white skin glowed in the bright sunlight that streamed in from the window above the sink. His thick, dark hair was all over the place, and a day’s worth of stubble graced his chin. He didn’t have his contacts in, and with his overly large horn-rim glasses, he was about as far away from a rocker as you could get.

If their fans could see him now…but then again, Dax had a certain charm all his own that seemed to transcend whatever his particular look was. Cain had decided long ago that it was a British thing.

“I may look like shit, but at least I’m not sparkling like some vampire wannabe,” Cain said drily.

Dax snorted. “Hey, the whole vampire thing works for me. The ladies dig that kind of shit, no matter what age they are.”

Cain took another sip of coffee. “I’m sure they do.”

Dax hopped up onto one of the stools and rested his elbows on the island. “Was nice seeing your mom again.”

Cain was silent. His mother had stopped by the night before. She’d tried discussing his situation with Maggie, but he’d refused to engage. How could he? He was still trying to figure things out himself.

“She’s pretty damn cute, eh? Your little bird.”

Cain wandered over to where Dax sat, a frown on his face, when he spied
Hollywood
Scene
in front of the Brit. It lay open to the center spread.

“Christ, does everyone have a copy?”

“Dunno. Mac brought a few of ’em back last night.”

“That figures.”

Dax whistled as he glanced down at the pictures, and Cain’s face darkened as he glanced at the magazine. In the picture, Maggie’s face spoke volumes.

He grabbed it from Dax, ignoring the blast of curse words that fell from the Brit’s mouth, and studied the picture closely.

She looked sexy as hell with her hair, that long silky mess of hair, all over the place. Her breasts nearly spilled from the lacy bra she wore, and he remembered how he couldn’t wait to get her out of it.

It was a picture that any man would find erotic. Sexy. But right now? As he gazed down at it, all Cain focused on was the look in her eyes. There was softness there—a surrender in their depths that hit him in the gut.

Maggie
looked
like he
felt
. It wasn’t about sex for her. Not in that moment. It was about love.

Cain ran his hand across his jaw and let the magazine fall onto the counter. Holy Christ.

He didn’t just want to be with her. He
loved
her. Real, true, I’d-freaking-die-for-you love. The realization washed over him with the strength of a jackhammer, and he slid onto the stool beside Dax and set his mug onto the counter.

He sang songs about this stuff all the time, but until now he’d never experienced it. Not like this. His marriage to Natasha had been a huge mistake, one where lust had been mistaken for love. This thing with Maggie was on an entirely different level.

“Are you all right?” Dax asked.

“No.”

“Ah.” Dax closed the magazine. “So, should I be worried then?”

“No.”

“Okay, but you’re a bit peaked, mate, and sorry to say it’s not a good look for you.”

“What?”

“I said you look like shit.”

“I love her.”

“What was that? You’re mumbling into your cup.”

Cain glanced toward the Brit and grinned. “I love her.”

Dax took a sip of coffee and arched his brow, a huge grin on his face. “Well, that’s nice for you.
Really
nice.
The question is, mate: What are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” Jake barked.

They both glanced up as Jake walked into the kitchen. The tall soldier was dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt covered in sweat. His muscles bulged and his veins stood out in stark relief. He tossed an empty water bottle into the recycle bin beside the island and stared at them both.

“You guys gonna fill me in?”

Cain rubbed his eyes and glanced up at his friend.

“Never mind.” Jake crossed to the coffee machine and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “I’m thinking this has to do with Maggie?” He emptied the carafe and leaned against the counter.

Cain remained silent.

“You love her.”

Hearing Jake say the words so matter-of-factly pretty much cemented the entire notion. Cain nodded. “Hell, yeah. I think I might have fallen the moment I laid eyes on her at Jesse’s funeral reception.”

Jake lowered his eyes and stared into his cup. “That’s good. Jesse’d be happy for you.” Jake chuckled. “Hell, let’s be honest, he’d be riding your ass big-time. He always thought that you’d be the guy with a posse of women. Like Hef and his bunnies.” The soldier grinned. “Glad to see he was wrong.”

“Well, mates, I’d love to sit around and discuss Cain’s love life, but we’ve a show to put together, and time’s running out. So what’s the plan?” Dax looked at him expectantly, and for a second Cain blanked.

“Uh…” He frowned.

“Fundraiser. Music. Football?” Dax slid from his stool. “Ring a bell?”

Cain glanced toward the clock. It was nearly nine now, and they needed to finish a few things before they’d be ready for production setup, which was scheduled for noon.

Cain grabbed his mug and finished his coffee. “We should get going. There’s a lot left to do.”

Jake nodded. “All right. I’m going to run home, change, and I’ll meet you guys at the field.”

“On your way out, tell Mac we’ll be leaving in ten.” Cain caught the wince the Brit tried to hide as he placed his mug in the sink. “A little sore this morning?”

“Bloody hell, I didn’t expect to be getting my hands dirty. Dammit man, I hope I can play my bass tomorrow.”

“Nothing a good hot shower won’t cure.”

“Right.”

Mac entered the cottage and tossed his magazine onto the counter. “So, lover boy, we heading out soon?”

Cain grabbed the magazine along with the one Dax had been reading. He looked at Mac and frowned. “You got any more of these hiding around?”

“Nope. But I hate to tell you this. They’re everywhere.”

“No shit.” Cain’s lips thinned. He was in for it, and so was Maggie. He just hoped the people of Crystal Lake went easy on her.

“You going to see her today?”

Cain nodded to Mac. “Damn straight. As soon as we get everything organized for tomorrow, she’s my first stop.”

Mac’s expression changed—the joker was gone. “Good. That’s good.” He sighed and stretched out his long limbs. “We’re a sorry-ass bunch…the Bad Boys of Crystal Lake. Unlucky in love. It would be nice to see one of us get it right.”

Cain frowned. “Jesse got it right, from the get-go.”

“Maybe so, but that relationship left scars.” Mac’s eyes darkened and he shook his head. “I’m worried about Jake, and what the hell is Raine thinking? A baby? Personally, I think he’d be better off shipping back to Afghanistan.”

Cain was stunned. What kind of crazy-ass shit was this?

“Why the hell would you want him to go back there, to the place where he watched his brother die? Away from his friends and family? That doesn’t make sense.”

Mac was quiet for a few seconds, and then he spoke. “At least over there he’s got an outlet for his anger. He can use it, hone it, and let it eat the pain. Here? It will just fester and grow, and being around Raine won’t help him at all. I’m telling you, it will be ugly when he finally explodes.” Mac looked away. “Trust me. I know what the face of ugly feels like, and the scars don’t ever go away.”

Cain sighed. “It’s too early for this shit.”

“You’re right. Forget I said anything.” Mac moved toward his room. “I’m going to grab my shades, and we should head out to the field.”

He watched Mac disappear and then headed back to his own room for a quick change. There was no point in showering. Not with all he had on his plate today.

He grabbed his cell and tried Maggie’s number, but there was no answer. Shit. He needed to hear her voice. Needed to know that things were going to be all right. He pocketed the cell. He’d have to keep trying.

Twenty minutes later he was on his way to town. As luck would have it—at least the kind of luck that followed him around these days, which was bad—everything was behind schedule. The production equipment and crew didn’t show until nearly two in the afternoon, which was good, considering it took them nearly that long to get the finishing touches in place, the power supply being a major headache. The wattage hadn’t been sufficient as is, but an electrician was called, and the problem was solved. When the heavy cables—long electrical snakes—were finally run, it felt like a small victory.

The volunteers kept their heads down, and no one ribbed him about
Hollywood
Scene
. For that Cain was grateful. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss the fallout. Roger, Tommy’s father, was one of the volunteers, and though Cain wanted to grill him about Michael’s whereabouts and Maggie, he kept quiet. There was no use in putting him on the spot.

The stacks of speakers were put in place, two towers on either side of the stage. The rigging that held the lights was hoisted into the air, across the front of the stage, and a one-row of lighting was placed behind the drum riser.

All the musical acts were to use one set of equipment to make things easy. The amps—Marshall stacks—and the drum kit were ready to go, but it was a slow process getting everything in place, the instruments properly miked, and ready to go.

Texas Willie and his band were helping, as well as several other local acts, including Shady Aces. They were all participating in the fundraiser. It made for a few frustrating moments, and it took Cain’s raised voice, with the reminder that this was a charity event, not an MTV appearance, for the boys to settle in and work together.

When the first note was hit at sound check—his guitar singing out into the gathered crowd—he didn’t feel pleasure as much as relief.

But by then it was nearly six o’clock.

Cain had been trying Maggie’s cell phone the entire day. Not once had she picked up. She didn’t have a landline, so he had no other way of getting in touch with her. The pressure in his chest, that feeling of doom that had dogged him all day, hit hard. He’d tried Raine several times as well and had had no luck there either.

He’d just packed up his Les Paul when he spied Jake.

“I’m heading to Maggie’s now. Sorry to do this again, but can you get Dax back to the lake?”

“I think a bunch of us are heading to the Coach House first, but I’ll make sure he makes it home safe. We wouldn’t want a drunken Brit roaming the streets of Crystal Lake, especially in that getup.”

Dax sat on the edge of the stage with his bass, his fingers flying over the frets as he slapped and pulled the heavy strings. The instrument, one meant for rhythm, sounded melodic in his hands.

He’d kept the horn-rimmed glasses instead of his contacts and once more sported white leather pants, flashy red boots, and a vintage Def Leppard T-shirt. There was a circle of locals close by, mostly women, all of them eyeing the Brit with adoring, shy smiles.

“I don’t think you need to worry about him, Jake.”

“Probably not.” Jake tapped him on the shoulder. “I hope things work out with you and Maggie.”

“Thanks.”

He was starting to panic.
Where
the
hell
are
you, Maggie?

“Mom, are you mad at Cain?”

Maggie chewed on her lip as she looked across the table at her son. He’d just shoveled a second helping of meat loaf into his mouth and stared at her expectantly.

What to tell him? He was smart and knew things were wrong. She didn’t want to lie, but the sad fact was that the truth would hurt him. And for the moment, she couldn’t do that to her son.

Not yet, anyway.

She wanted to keep him in that bubble of safety and happiness as long as she could, because she knew in the next little while, those big blue eyes of his would be filled with sadness, confusion, and most likely anger.

Maggie had kept him close today, taken him with her to her clients’ homes. So far he’d been spared the details of the magazine, and she wanted to keep it that way until she had a chance to talk to him about it.

Mrs. Landon had been more than happy to keep Michael occupied while she cleaned her bungalow, and in fact had entertained her son while Maggie slipped uptown to her bank.

She’d quietly emptied her account and kept her eyes to the ground. She didn’t want to talk to anyone and had nearly made a clean getaway until she literally ran into Mrs. Lancaster, the pastor’s wife.

The woman had gently clutched her hands. There’d been a certain calmness that flowed from Mrs. Lancaster into Maggie’s body, an energy that soothed Maggie’s tired and scarred soul.

The two of them had stood for several minutes on the sidewalk, Maggie in her work clothes and Mrs. Lancaster in the rubber boots she loved so and a dress that was green and red, just like a Christmas tree. When Mrs. Lancaster had finally spoken, it was anticlimactic. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, Maggie?”

Maggie had suddenly been filled with fear of the unknown, a terrifying, soul-wrenching fear. She had no idea where she was going. None.
Could
she do it again? Did she have the strength to take Michael and run? She’d shaken her head and yanked her hand from Mrs. Lancaster’s grasp.

“I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” Which of course was an understatement of epic proportions. Maggie Grace O’Rourke was exhausted. She’d hopped on the Cain Black Express, and it ran full tilt. Now that the damn thing had derailed, she was lost.

The pastor’s wife had smiled and spoken, her words soothing, her tone gentle. “You’re not lost, child. The day you set foot into Crystal Lake is the day you found your way home.” She’d winked, like the mind reader she was. “Remember that.”

“Mom? Are you all right? You’ve got that weird look on your face. The one where your eyes get all crinkly.”

Michael’s voice penetrated her thoughts, and Maggie gave herself a mental shakedown. She needed to keep focused. Be sharp.

“I’m fine, Michael, and no, I don’t think we’ll be seeing Cain tonight. He’s pretty busy preparing for the football game tomorrow and the concert.” She gave him a smile, a horrible, fake thing that slowly faded as Michael’s dark eyes stared back at her.

He didn’t believe a word she’d said.

He picked at the veggies on his plate. Carrots. Usually his favorite. “Did you and Cain have a fight?”

Maggie pushed her plate away. She couldn’t pretend to eat, any more than she could pretend that things were okay. “Cain and I…” she began and stopped. What the hell was she going to say to her son? She needed to say something, to prepare him, because there was a very good possibility that he’d be exposed to the nastiness of the trash magazine in the morning.

“Did you have a fight because of the pictures?”

Maggie stared at her son in shock. How in the hell did he know about them? He’d been with her all day. Lauren had been home when they arrived to clean her house, but she was positive Lauren Black would never discuss something like that with Michael.

“What pictures are you talking about?” Her mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust, and she barely got the words out.

Michael rose from the table and disappeared into the living room. He came back a few seconds later,
Hollywood
Scene
clutched between his fingers. He carefully placed it on the table in front of Maggie and moved closer to her.

She stared down at the offending piece of garbage and barely held back the rage that was inside. She itched to tear the damn thing to pieces but held off. She couldn’t lose it in front of Michael. She just couldn’t.

She turned to him, her fingers lifting his chin so that she could stare into his eyes. The huge balls of liquid blue shimmered, and she saw the questions, the confusion, in their depths. “Where did you get that, Michael?”

His mouth twitched, and he shuffled his feet as his eyes dropped. “Don’t be mad,” he whispered.

“Honey, why would I be mad? Just tell Mommy the truth, all right?”

She was scared, imagining all sorts of crazy things, different ways he could have gotten his hands on a copy. A stranger handing it to him on the bus when she wasn’t looking. Someone leaving it on their porch. A prank by one of his friends.

“I saw it in your purse.”

“What?”

“It was sticking out, and I thought it was a comic, and then I saw Cain on the cover.”

Maggie groaned. She’d tossed her bag as soon as she let herself into the house the night before. And there it had stayed until Michael found it.

His fingers kneaded the edge of the table nervously.

“It’s okay, Michael. You did nothing wrong, honey. It was my fault for leaving it like that. Did you…did you look inside?”

Maggie held her breath, felt the stab of pain that rushed across her chest as if she’d been laced with a whip. The thought of Michael seeing that center shot made her ill.

He shook his head. “No. I just looked at the cover and knew it wasn’t a comic, and then I stuffed it in the book rack.”

Maggie stared at her son in silence. “Okay.”

“Are you mad at me?” His voice trembled, and she grabbed him to her chest in an instant. His arms slid around her waist, and she held her son as if he was her lifeline for as long as she could. Her chin rested on his curls and she whispered, “No, I’m not mad at you. I’m proud that you’re brave enough to tell the truth. But I have to tell you something.”

Maggie exhaled and set Michael back a bit so she could look into his eyes. “There are more pictures inside that magazine, honey. Pictures of private stuff…of Mommy and Cain. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Like the one on the cover? Of you guys kissing?”

Her cheeks flushed red, and she nodded. “Kind of.”

Michael shrugged. “Mom, that’s not a big deal, not for adults anyway. Bobby Terio’s sister has tons of pictures of herself on Facebook,
kissing
pictures and some in a bikini.” Michael’s face wrinkled into a comical grimace. “They’re gross.”

“Oh, so you’ve seen them,” Maggie asked, not too impressed.

“Well, just once. But we got caught, and Bobby’s mom disabled the Facebook, so now his sister can’t show off her kissy-face pictures anymore.”

Maggie stared at her little boy in awe. He didn’t know the whole story, of course, but still she felt so much better knowing he hadn’t been freaked out at the sight of her and Cain together.

Of course, he hadn’t seen the center spread, but judging from his reaction, Michael would be more grossed out than embarrassed.

“Okay, but this is a little different. Someone took those pictures without my knowledge and put them in that magazine. Honey, that magazine is sold in most grocery stores. They even have a television show on every night. Do you understand what I’m trying to say? Your friends might see them, and some of them might tease you tomorrow.”

“My friends all think you’re pretty. They won’t care.” Michael looked away, and his hands fisted into tight little balls at his side. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you? That he’ll see.”

At first Maggie didn’t know what Michael meant. “Cain? No, honey, that’s silly. And trust me, he’s already seen them.”

“I meant my dad.”

Cold spread along her body in rapid flashes that left her shaking. Maggie’s heart broke as she stared at her son. It broke into little pieces. That a seven-year-old boy could be that intuitive was astonishing. She thought of Cain’s confession the night before, and her heart swelled again as she thought of that last night in Savannah.

And of what Michael had witnessed and never shared with her. Her little boy had dealt with all of that on his own. She felt…defeated.

“I don’t want to leave Crystal Lake, Mommy.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Michael was much too observant and smart for such a young boy. Maggie didn’t want to lie, so she remained quiet.

A soft knock echoed into the house, and they both jumped.

Michael recovered first and ran to the living room, and by the time Maggie cleared the kitchen, Cain stood in the middle of her house, his dark eyes upon her, his hand on Michael’s shoulder.

Her son leaned into the man the same way she did when he was next to her. As if their bodies needed him in order to function.

He looked tired, her musician. His clothes were dirty—no doubt from a full day out at the field—but it was his eyes that grabbed her attention. They looked
haunted
.

Maggie swallowed and felt her throat tighten. It was like looking in the mirror.

He turned to her son and ruffled the curls on top of his head. “Hey, is it all right if I talk to your mom for a bit?”

Michael nodded. “Sure. I have a book I wanted to read anyway.” Michael glanced back at her. “Is that all right, Mom?” She nodded, still unable to speak, and watched him disappear down the hall toward his bedroom.

“I tried calling, but you didn’t pick up.” Cain ran his hands through his hair and stared at her.

“Oh.” She finally found her voice. “With everything that happened yesterday, I forgot to charge my phone.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I came over.” He took a step closer to her. “I know you told me it was over last night and to stay away, but Maggie, I—”

“Cain, I don’t know if I can do this.” She was so confused.

He held his hands up. “I won’t take long. I have to get something off my chest, and I need for you to know where I stand. Because I sure as hell don’t have a clue as to where your head’s at, Maggie. Maybe you’ll share that with me soon, I hope you will, but for now I just want you to listen.”

Maggie slid onto the edge of the sofa. She had no energy left at all and was pretty much running on fumes.

“I love you.”

Maggie’s chest constricted at his words, and even if she wanted to respond, there was no way that she could. It was impossible. The part of her brain that controlled vocal chords had just taken a trip south, and she was speechless.

Cain stared at her from a few feet away, his tobacco-colored waves wild, tinged with new streaks of sunlight. His dark eyes glittered, their depths filled with emotion. She tore her eyes away and her gaze fell to his mouth. That was the wrong thing to do.

He had a way of making a woman forget, and with the stakes this high, Maggie needed her wits about her. He didn’t give her a chance, of course, because he plunged forward and paced across her small living room as he spoke.

“I’ve said those three words to a few women in my day. I’ve sang them every single night on stage, but until now, I can honestly say I’ve never really
felt
them. It’s so damn easy to say you love someone, because they’re just words.
I
love
you.
Three little words. But it’s the feeling behind those words that’s hard. It’s the feelings that make them matter.”

Cain paused inches from her. She held her hands tightly in her lap when all she wanted to do was lose them in the thick waves at his nape and pull him close.

“Do you believe in fate, Maggie?” It wasn’t a question really, because he plunged forward without giving her a chance to answer. “I do. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Karma is real and will either bitch-slap or embrace you when you least expect it. I believe that there are people who come into our lives for different reasons. Some leave, and there are others that are meant to stay.
Keepers.
”

He moved closer still until the warmth of his breath caressed her cold skin. But he didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to. His words were physical. They slid across her skin and settled into her soul.

“I’ve got several guitars back in LA. Some are worth a fair bit of money, but only one of them means the world to me and is a keeper. It’s the guitar my mom gave me.”

His hand reached for her, and she leaned her cheek into his palm. “I don’t know if I’m making sense, but that’s what you are to me Maggie, a keeper. I need you in my life.”

He was breathing heavy, and when his hand left her cheek, taking his warmth with it, she whimpered softly.

He stared at her long and hard, and when he spoke there was a surety to his words that grabbed her, that made her believe. “I know you’ve got secrets and pain and a whole bunch of shit I know nothing about. But I’m not going away. I want to make this work…this thing we have between us. And yeah, my life might be different than Luke Jensen’s or Doctor Harding’s, but I think we could make it work. I think we should at least try.” His ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture she’d come to love. “You have to know I’d never do anything to hurt you or Michael.”

“Cain, I—”

“And the pictures… I should have known Natasha would pull something crazy like sending the damn paparazzi after us.”

He nodded toward her window and tossed a set of keys onto the table beside the plaid chair.

“You know where I stand. I want you to take some time and think about what I said. About us. About being honest with each other and sharing everything. Will you do that?”

Maggie nodded in silence.

“Good, but fair warning. I’m pretty damn relentless when I want something.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

“I want you and Michael.” He shrugged. “It’s that simple. I’m leaving you my truck, so there’s no excuse for you not to come out to the football field.”

Cain’s eyes smoldered, his gaze resting on her mouth, and she thought that maybe he’d come to her. She found her body leaning forward, anticipating. Instead he turned and left her to the quiet of her home. Maggie sank back to the sofa and touched her mouth. He hadn’t kissed her, but she felt a burn nonetheless.