The Bad Son

Her head jerked up. “What?”

“It’s a senior partnership, a salary to match and a corner office with a view of the city. The perks are unbelievable.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re moving to Dallas?”

“I have to let them know by the end of the week.”

“But your life and your family are here.”

“It’s not an easy decision to make.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and he noticed her hand shook slightly—the only sign that his leaving bothered her. His pulse skipped a beat.

She stuffed the clothes back into the bags, the neatly folded ones jumbled together. “You’re my best friend. I depend on you for so many things. I whine on your shoulder and tell you my secrets.”

This was it. He had to say out loud what he’d been avoiding for years. She had to know how he felt. He swallowed, never realizing how hard this would be. “Have you ever thought that we could be more than friends?” He waited, and his breath lodged in his throat like sawdust.

Macy didn’t answer. She just kept stuffing the baby items into the bags. That made him angry. He deserved an answer.

“Macy, did you hear me?”

“Beau, please, I…ah…” She didn’t look at him and that fueled his anger and his frustration.

“I don’t want to be just your friend. I want more. I want to have a life with you in every way that counts—a home and a family.”

She picked up the bags and her blue eyes met his. “I realize you’ve worked hard for this advancement.”

He frowned. “Is that all you can say? I just told you that…”

“I’ll miss you,” she muttered.

It took a few seconds for him to catch his breath. “I’ll miss you, too.” He sighed, waiting for a miracle he knew wasn’t going to happen. This was it. The final goodbye.

“I better get this stuff to my place and find room for it.” She moved toward the door and glanced back.

They stared at each other. Beau wanted to say so much but for a man who was used to talking, words suddenly seemed useless.

“Will you be leaving soon?” she asked.

“I have to let them know by the end of the week, but it will probably be a month before I leave Waco.”

“You’ll let me know.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t feel he needed to.

They kept staring at each other. Years of friendship hung in the balance. Those years melted away into a moment of intense pain. Without another word, she turned and headed to her condo.

Beau flopped onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands. His leaving was about Macy, just like his mother had said. But he already knew that. He’d tried to take their friendship to another level, but she made it abundantly clear that wasn’t happening. He was never going to have a life with her, share her bed, her hopes, her dreams and her future.

It was over.

And the truth of that hurt more than he ever thought possible.

MACY PACED in her living room, Lucky and Lefty matching every step. Beau was leaving. That was all she could think. She never saw it coming and she should have. She should have known she couldn’t have Beau forever. Not this way. He needed more and so did she.

I want to have a life with you in every way that counts—a home and a family.

When he’d said those words, she’d wanted to accept everything he was offering. But she couldn’t. Why not?

The monster under the bed reared its ugly head and fear gripped her, held her a prisoner of her own emotions. Tell him about your marriage. Tell him the truth. The thoughts tantalized and teased, but the monster still held her captive. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t handle another rejection. It was time to let Beau go so he could find a woman who could give him everything he deserved—like the family he wanted.

To keep from torturing herself, she opened the box with the bassinet and realized her hands were shaking. Sucking in a calming breath, she decided to put it together herself. She could do it. She didn’t need Beau. After reading the instructions, she grabbed her tool-box—something Beau had insisted she have for when he fixed things at her place.

A sob escaped and she fought tears. No. She wouldn’t cry.

She forced herself to study the instructions. All she had to do was connect the stand to the body of the bassinet. Simple. A Phillips screwdriver was required. She stared at the set of screwdrivers. Which one?

“Mmm.” She glanced at Lucky. “Which is the Phillips screwdriver?”

Lucky barked and sniffed the tools. “Don’t know either, do you?”

Lucky barked louder and Lefty got in on the act.

“Quiet,” she ordered. “I have to think.”

It couldn’t be all that hard. Studying the screws, she picked a screwdriver to match the grooves. She shouted for joy and the dogs barked again.

“Shh.” It took a lot of strength and patience, but she worked on until she had the bassinet attached to the base.

Sinking back on her heels, she looked at her handiwork. It was beautiful—all white and delicate. Through her defenses slipped another memory of a precious bassinet trimmed with satin and lace.

No. No. No.

She leaped to her feet, shoved the memory away and collapsed onto the sofa. Gathering her dogs into her arms, she felt as if her world had just collapsed. The monster under the bed now controlled her and she was the only one who could turn on the light and reveal the secret she’d kept hidden in her heart.

Beau wanted her to ask him to stay. She saw it in his eyes—that’s how well she knew him, and she’d wanted to. But she didn’t have anything to offer him, except friendship.

Sometimes late at night when she wished his arms were around her, she’d wondered how long she’d have him. How long would they be friends before he’d want more? He was a man, after all. She’d seen him go out on dates and though it broke her heart she never did anything to stop it. Just like she’d do nothing to stop him leaving.

A tear trickled out of the corner of her eye, then another followed. She tasted the saltiness on her lips and the dogs whined at her distress. Freckles slinked along the back of the sofa and rested on her shoulder. She stroked them so they’d know she was okay.

But she wasn’t.

Beau had said that she had more energy than anyone he knew. She had to keep going, doing until she exhausted herself. That way her mind was too tired to dream dreams she shouldn’t—like having a husband and a family. She’d had the fairy tale. Now she lived with the nightmare.

She would never marry again, but she would always love Beau. How she wished she could tell him that and share her secret. Allen was the only one who knew. Not even her parents had known what had happened in her marriage. It was her own personal pain.

Beau was leaving.