The Texan's Return. Karen Whiddon
14
The sharp sound of someone knocking on her front door made Hailey Green narrow her eyes. She’d posted a No Soliciting sign years ago, but every once in a while, a very persistent salesperson would pretend not to see it. She supposed they felt somewhat entitled after walking all the way up her long, winding drive.
Still... She put down the whisk, wiped her hands on the front of her faded jeans, and marched to answer the knock. Prepared speech all ready, she flung the door open. And stared, the words dying on her lips. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest, like a caught catfish on the end of a trotline.
Him. Mac Morrison.
“What...” Stunned, she took a step back, in disbelief, in defense, or a combination of both. Once, her younger self had dreamt of this moment. That dream, like all the others, had faded. Every time his face drifted into her thoughts, she’d chased the image away, telling herself after so many years, she had no idea what kind of man Mac had become.
Now she knew. She let her gaze drink him in, too shocked even to attempt to hide her reaction. After a decade away, he was no longer a boy, but a man. And oh, what a man.
He’d filled out, his body finally catching up to his height. Time had hardened the craggy perfection of his face and given him a masculine virility that his younger self had only had a hint of. He’d gotten muscular, too, his bare arms powerful, his broad shoulders filling out his black T-shirt. He wore his thick, dark hair longer, shaggier, but this also just enhanced his appeal. Only the warmth in his gray eyes as he gazed at her hadn’t changed.
“Hi,” he said, his easy smile and husky voice making her catch her breath. “How’ve you been? It’s been a long time, but you still look the same. Even down to the earrings. I’m glad to see you kept them.”
Purely on reflex, she brought her hand up to her ears. The tiny diamond ear studs he’d given her for her sixteenth birthday were in place, just as they always were. She took them off every night and put them on every single morning. They were the only piece of jewelry she wore.
She could have slammed the door and locked it, turned and run down the hall to the bathroom so she could retch up the remains of breakfast. She could have, probably should have, but instead she couldn’t make herself move. One devilish quirk of a smile and all the memories, wants and desires came rushing back as if they were yesterday rather than almost a decade ago.
Mouth dry, she struggled to find the words to make a response. Instead, to her absolute horror, her eyes filled with tears. She would not cry, not in front of him.
“What...” she tried again. “What are you doing here? After all this time.” The harshness of her tone spoke more of her pain rather than anger.
“What, no friendly welcome?” Mockery and regret combined to darken his eyes to slate. “I thought at least that you’d want to catch up with an old friend.”
Friends. They’d been that, once. And more. Much, much more. Not only best friends, but lovers and soul mates. She’d loved him, with all the fervor of a teenage girl. And he’d loved her back, or so she’d believed. Though when he and his family had moved away, under the cloud of shame caused by what Mac’s father had done, he hadn’t even said goodbye. Hailey had never heard from him again.
Not that she’d wanted to. That was what she’d told herself to mitigate the hurt. After all, there’d only been so many things she could grieve at seventeen. Her sister’s murder had been difficult enough. Once upon a time, Hailey had believed in true love, happily-ever-after and fairy tales. That was Before, with a capital B. Before everything had changed and she’d learned monsters really did exist.
“Hailey?” He cocked his head, clearly waiting for her to respond.
The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver up her spine. Words. She needed to answer him. So she said the first thing that came to mind. “I thought you moved far away. Another state? Up north somewhere.”
“No. Mother and I settled in Huntsville, to be near my dad.”
She couldn’t suppress a shudder.
He continued on as if he hadn’t noticed. “My mother passed away three years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. Then, because she had to ask, she did. “And your father?” Holding herself stiffly, she waited for him to say the words that, even now, might set her free.
Swallowing, Mac looked away for the first time since he’d arrived. “He’s been ill. Pancreatic cancer. It’s terminal.”
Heaven help her, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel pity. His father deserved none, that was for sure. Crossing her arms, she settled for a nod. “What are you doing here, Mac?” This time, she softened her tone. “Nothing good can come of dredging up old memories.”
Finally, he appeared uncomfortable. Shifting his weight from foot to foot—sturdy black motorcycle boots, she noticed—he sighed. “I’m home, Hailey. My father and I both. We’ve moved back into the old place on Front Street.”
“They let him out?” Shocked, she didn’t have time to think of the impact her words might have on him. He winced, and she scaled back her outrage, just a little bit. “I’ve been notified every time he’s come up for parole,” she informed him, her voice firm but softer. “I’d know if they were going to release that man.”
“That man is my father.” He rolled one shoulder in that shrug she remembered. “He’s sick, Hailey. Very ill,” he told her, his tone matter-of-fact since he definitely knew he couldn’t ask for her sympathy. “He’s dying, actually. His one wish was to come home and spend his final days in the house he built with his own hands. He needed someone to take care of him when hospice isn’t there, so I came with him.”
Hailey stared. She’d never been cruel, not to him. Even when the accusations had been flying like mud under a galloping horse’s hooves, she hadn’t blamed him for what his father had done. She wouldn’t be cruel now either.
Lips tight, she nodded. “Good luck.”
Before he had time to muster up a reply, she closed the door in his face and, for good measure, clicked the dead bolt into place.
Breathing as hard as if she’d just completed several runs up and down the stairs, she stared at the back of the closed door and tried to adjust to the sudden shift in her reality. As she trembled, she pressed her hand to her midsection, trying to regain her equilibrium.
She had a sneaking suspicion nothing would ever be the same again. Mac had returned. Despite knowing better, her heart had given a spontaneous leap of joy at the sight of him, proving old habits died hard.
Mac Morrison. The only boy she’d ever loved. He was a man now, devastatingly handsome, and even more ruggedly virile. The sight of him still captivated her. Despite everything. He’d come back. Who would have ever believed such a thing could be possible? Stunned, dismayed and confused, she wasn’t sure of herself anymore. The flare of sudden attraction at the sight