“Well, he’s retreating his way out of any chance at a relationship with me. I don’t know how much more I’m willing to deal with. I’m not about to just lie down and take it—not even for him. Anyway, I’ve done enough of that with Mick already. I did it for years, whether we were together or not. I let the distance he imposed between us keep me from New Orleans, even from seeing my family, because I couldn’t stand it. But I’m not that girl anymore.”
Jamie smiled at her, drew his hand back and took a sip from his coffee. “No, you’re not. And I’m glad to see you remember that. Mick will be, too, once he gets his head out of his ass.”
“When do you think that’ll happen?”
“Not sure. If it wasn’t about you, I’d probably say when pigs fly. But it is you. And maybe I can help him along. Want me to try to talk to him?”
“I don’t want to put you in the middle.”
Jamie grinned at her crookedly. “Sweetheart, you put me in the middle from day one.”
That made her smile. “So I did.”
“Anyway, I don’t mind having a reason to tell Mick he’s an idiot.”
She shook her head. “You boys.”
“Don’t let him catch you calling him that.”
“As if. So, tell me what’s been going on with you. I don’t mean to make this all about me. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Nothing much has been happening, anyway. Except . . .”
“Except what?”
“You know . . . Summer Grace stopped by the shop yesterday.”
“Did she?”
He nodded. “I was out, so I didn’t see her. She didn’t tell any of the guys what she wanted.”
“Maybe her car needs work? Or maybe you should give her a chance, Jamie.”
“And maybe you should have your head examined. You know damn well why that’s not going to happen.”
“Another case of stupid man, maybe,” she muttered into her coffee. “Must be an epidemic.”
He picked up his cup before responding to her barb. “You seem to be feeling better.”
“You’re just doing a good job of distracting me.” But she reached for the bag and extracted a beignet, bit into it and chewed as she leaned back in her chair. “These are still pretty damn good even after they’re cold.”
“Have as many as you want. I ate mine on the way over.”
“I didn’t think that white powder meant you’d developed a cocaine problem.”
Jamie wiped at his chin and she laughed.
“You are feeling better.”
“I’ll really feel better when Mick calls me and apologizes for being an ass. And follows it up by being appropriately attentive and actually working toward something with me.”
And by “appropriately attentive” she meant more than just great sex.
“He will. He’s never forgotten about you. I don’t think he can, no matter how checked out he’s been lately. It’s part of him transitioning into this. It’s a lot to accept all at once after the years he’s put into being stubborn when it comes to you.”
“So, you think talking to him will do some good?”
“It’ll be a little push. Or a big one if he’s in bastard mode. But mostly it’ll be the fact that he still loves you, Allie.”
Her eyes misted—she couldn’t help it. “I wish I didn’t need him to so damn much.”
“That’s the bitch about love—people don’t have much control over it. That’s what’s eating him up, sweetheart. It’s not you.”
That was the part that hurt the worst—knowing he couldn’t drop the control issues long enough to just love her, to let that old amazing love they’d shared rekindle into something current and real. They could have so much together if only . . .
But “if onlys” didn’t make a relationship—not the one she wanted to find with him.
She wanted to be able to say she could walk away forever if Mick couldn’t let his walls down with her. She wanted to. She wasn’t entirely certain she could.
Meanwhile, she had better learn how to pray.
* * *
IT WAS NEARLY ten that night when there was another knock at her door. She’d been halfway anticipating it, but her heart thundered in her chest as she smoothed her hair and went to answer it, knowing it would be him.
When she opened the door, he was a shadow silhouetted against the amber porch light, but she’d have known that big frame anywhere, his cocky stance, the familiar scent of him that immediately drifted to her, even against the backdrop of the magnolia blossoms and the crepe myrtle starting to bloom in her yard.
“Can I come in, Allie?”
Somehow he managed to sound demanding and humble all at the same time, but she moved back to let him pass. He went into the living room and stood facing the mantel, which was cluttered with items she hadn’t managed to put away yet: a collection of glass candlesticks, her sewing box, a folder full of the postcards she’d collected from all over the world during her travels. She followed him in and switched on a lamp.
“You still unpacking?” he asked.
“The cardboard boxes make it that obvious?” When he didn’t answer she prompted, “I suppose you didn’t come here to talk about my boxes.”
“No.”
He turned around and she gasped. “Jesus, Mick. What did you do to yourself?”
“It’s just a split lip.”
She marched across the room and held his chin in her hand. “Let me look at that.”
“I’m fine.”
“Have you had any medical attention?”
“I don’t need it, babe. It’s nothing.”
She dropped her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you ‘babe’ me. You’ve been fighting.”
He nodded.
“An illegal fight.” When he didn’t say anything she went on. “Mick, I know damn well it was one of those stupid club fights. If you’d been sparring, you would have just told me.”
“I didn’t come here to upset you, Allie. I’ve done enough of that already.”
Her blood went cold, a slow knot forming in her stomach. Was this where he told her—again—that she was better off without him before he walked out of her life once more?
She couldn’t speak, so she just nodded.
He was quiet for several long moments while her breath stalled in her lungs. He was so damn handsome, his lush mouth drawn tight around the swelling, his gray eyes full of shadows.
She waited.
He ran a hand over his jaw, winced when he came too close to the swollen lip. Finally he said, “I guess you know Jamie came to talk to me today?”
“Yes.”
“He made a lot of sense after he finished verbally beating the shit out of me. Which I deserved—I know it. He told me about his conversation with you. And it wasn’t like I wasn’t thinking about this stuff already. But fuck, Allie, when I woke up this morning and found you gone . . .”
“What?” she demanded. “You found me gone and what, Mick?”
The anger was rising again, making her throat go tight, but it was better than the pain, the panic at the idea of not having him in her life.
“And I couldn’t stand that I’d done it. That I’d been so dense. Needing to escape the issues so badly I acted like a twelve-year-old.”
She smirked a little. “Maybe fifteen.”
“Yeah.”
“Is that a half-assed apology, Mick?”
“No. This is. I’m sorry, Allie. I’m sorry it’s been so hard for me to let you in. I’m sorry I’m not coming through for you no matter how much we negotiate and talk and agree to try.” His gaze locked hard on hers, and he looked right into her in the way he always had, making her feel naked right down to her bones. “I want to try.”
Her heart twisted. Tears burned but she swallowed them down.
“Do you, Mick? Really try? Because this half-assed stuff is not going to work for me.”
“I know. That’s why you left. I get it. I would have left, too, if I were you.”
She bit her lip. “Mick, I think . . . there has to be more than simply trying, do you know what I’m saying? I feel like you have to sort of transcend what’s happened in the past. You accused me—rightfully so—of living in the past where we were concerned. But I think you do it, too. About a lot of things. Us. The accident. Your self-image when you were younger. I don’t think you’ve really let it go yet.”