“I was tempted, but most articles are bullshit. I’ve learned that from my own life.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Not the topic at hand, No.”
I sighed. “I had an accident in my workshop.”
She waited a beat. “That’s it?”
I lifted my chin, thankful for my sunglasses just then. The memory of being pinned by my own sculpture wasn’t something I liked to relive. “I was working on an eight-foot commission piece for a business. I fucked up one of the soldering joins, and when I tried to fit the next piece onto the sculpture, it warped and...” I flipped open a few buttons on my shirt and pulled it aside.
“Jesus.” Macy dropped her arms to her sides. “Nolan.”
“It was my fault. I tried to jump back, and the scaffolding folded like a house of cards when the sculpture tipped.” The memory was as vivid as the day it had happened. The burning metal, then my burning flesh. I swallowed down the bile. “I was trapped under it and when the sharpest piece cut into me, it ripped me up pretty good.” She didn’t need to know that I’d been pinned there for hours. In and out of consciousness from the pain and blood loss. “In the end, I was lucky that the metal sheeting retained the heat so well. It cauterized the wounds enough, so I didn’t bleed out.”
“Wounds?” Her voice was a husky whisper.
“You don’t need to see all of it, Mace.” She definitely didn’t need to know all of the specifics, either.
“Why didn’t you call me? You didn’t have—”
“What? I was going to go missing for years and expect you to help nurse me back to health? Please. You did enough of that with our mom.”
Her eyes blazed. “You didn’t need to be alone.”
“I deserved it.”
“What?” She crowded into me. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing.” I stepped back. I didn’t need to drag her into the black tar pit of my psyche. “This was a bad idea.”
“Just gonna leave? Oh, that’s right. You’re good at running, No.”
I stiffened and laced my fingers at the back of my neck. “Dammit. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Didn’t you? You think you’re the only one with baggage? I almost missed out on Gideon and my two kids because of our shitty past. Because of Lou.”
I turned away, my eyes stinging. “I shouldn’t have left you with Lou.”
She touched my shoulder. “You didn’t know what he was going to do.” Then she pulled away. “Or did you?”
I hunched my shoulders. “I should have known. Should have seen what the hell he was up to. I was too busy busting my ass to get my pieces seen to pay attention when you guys were blowing up. I should have been there.”
Instead, I’d been on a flight to New York to meet with Maeve to see if she’d take me on as a client.
“I needed you, Nolan. I won’t deny that. But I would have understood.” She went around to stand in front of me. “You disappeared. That’s the part that killed me.”
“I know. I was a selfish fuck.”
“Yeah. You were.”
My chest was on fire. While Macy had gotten her heart ripped out, I’d been one more person who had abandoned her.
“Then you came back and did it again when you helped me move to Crescent Cove.”
“You didn’t need me, Mace. You never did.” She had the café and I’d been the older brother with no prospects, and no job. I’d been couch surfing with friends or crashing at art co-ops because back then, I’d had nothing to offer anyone. Just anger and bitterness.
Not like I’d been any better when I actually made it. I’d just turned into an asshole with money.
“I did.” She touched my arm. “I do.”
I tore my sunglasses off my face, my eyes stinging. “You do? As in now. Still?”
I fought against the hope that bloomed in my chest. I didn’t deserve to get off this easy. I had to ask. “Is it because of the scars?”
“Oh, fuck you. I’m not letting you back in my life for pity, you asshole. I just miss my big brother.” She wound her long arms around my shoulders. “And I’m overly emotional.”
I stood frozen, with my arms at my sides for a long moment before I crushed her to me. “I missed you too, Mace. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” I held on for another moment. The familiar scent of shampoo jettisoned me back to when we were in our twenties. Emotional, however? That wasn’t exactly Macy’s style.
At least not after our mother had passed away.
I eased her back. “And why are you emotional?”
She rubbed her eyes, then she swore. “Fucking mascara.”
I laughed at the raccoon eyes she’d given herself. When she glared at me, I laughed again. “Sorry.”
She pulled a plastic stick out of her back pocket. “I was on my way to tell my husband that we’re having another kid.”
