Blood Brothers

move. Slowly at first. Savoring every second. Making himself wait. Making Freddie wait. Watching her in the moonlight. Watching the way her lips parted, the way her back arched and her body trembled. Feeling the way her body tightened around him.

And then his concentration shattered. He shattered, too. Right along with her.

He had never been more broken. He’d never felt more whole.

She had no willpower.

A stronger woman would have been able to resist. A stronger woman would have thanked Gabe McBride for saving her son’s life-then waved him goodbye and breathed a sigh of relief when he went away.

Not Freddie. Not now. Not tonight.

Tonight, God help her, she needed his touch. She needed his warmth. She needed him!

It was true, what she’d told him. In those awful moments when she hadn’t known where he was-if the bull had spared Charlie and gored Gabe-she’d felt an awful despair, a wrenching sadness, a hollow sense of loss.

For whatever they could have had.

For what might have been.

She didn’t expect forever. She knew better.

When she’d married Mark, she’d expected forever. She’d counted on it. And she’d been devastated by his death. She’d fought to protect Charlie and Emma from any such risks. She’d hoped-by refusing to get involved with anyone else-to protect herself from further pain.

She was past that now. She knew better.

There was no way to protect oneself from pain. There was no life without it. There was just pretended indifference. She knew now that was worse.

To let Gabe go without loving him would be worse.

She knew he was going back to Montana. In the morning he would be gone. But at least she would have tonight. And if the memories caused her heartache, they couldn’t be worse than the fear and anguish she’d felt before she’d known he was safe.

She lay now, watching him sleep, and reached out to tug the duvet up around his shoulders. At her movement, he smiled faintly. He reached out an arm and drew her close.

Tears pricking behind her eyelids, Freddie snuggled in. A ragged breath caught in her throat. She pressed a kiss against his jaw. “I love you,” she whispered.

He didn’t hear her.

It was just as well.

Gabe didn’t get out before the kids got up.

He was, thank heavens, not still in their mother’s bedroom. But he wasn’t out the door yet, either. It had been too wonderful lying in bed with her, too tempting to stay just a little longer, to make each kiss last, but not the last.

But then Freddie had heard Emma padding around and she’d almost bolted out of bed, grabbing for her robe as she did so.

“They can’t-” she hissed. “They can’t find you in here!”

“They won’t,” Gabe swore. But even after she’d disappeared into the bathroom, he lay there a moment longer, just breathing, looking, touching-taking it all in.

Then he dragged himself up and pulled on his clothes. He made the bed. Found a single long hair on Freddie’s pillow. He curled it around his finger, then touched it to his lips.

He wanted- He needed…

“Will you get out of here?” Freddie was back, bustling in with her robe wrapped tightly around her. The color was high in her cheeks. Her mouth looked wonderfully well kissed. The sight made something inside Gabe twist hard.

“Gabe! I don’t want to have to explain!” She looked desperate. And desperately unhappy, too.

Because he was going? Or because he hadn’t gone last night?

Did she love him?

He didn’t know. But even if she did…

“Gabe!”

“I know! I know!” He poked his head out. The coast was clear. He could hear Charlie and Emma both moving around now, but neither had appeared. He slipped downstairs.

His bags sat where he’d left them by the door.

He had only to walk across the room, pick them up and walk out. He could be out the door in five seconds flat. In his car in five more. There would be no more goodbyes. No more Charlie and Emma.

No more Freddie.

He shut his eyes. His fingers curled into fists. He didn’t move.

Why not?

Because, damn it, it wasn’t easy to ride off into the sunset when it was barely eight o’clock in the morning!

Footsteps clattered down the stairs. He turned to see both Charlie and Emma. Their eyes lit up when they saw him still there.

“Gabe!” They came hurtling down, only to stop dead when they spotted his bags still by the door. They stared at the bags, then looked back at Gabe. He gave a vague lift of his shoulders, then reached for his hat and clapped it on his head.

Emma sniffled. Charlie blinked rapidly.

“It was…pretty late by the time…I…reckoned I could just…leave this morning,” he explained.

Behind them Freddie appeared. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a hunter green sweater. Neat and tidy. But her hair was still down-loose, flowing. The way it had been all night when he’d buried his face in it, wrapped his hands in it, rubbed his cheek against it.

He felt something lodge in his throat.

Freddie was stone silent, just looking at him. Her face was pale. Pained. Not like the woman who had loved him last night. Like a woman whose heart was breaking.

Was it?

Was he walking out on her when she wanted him to stay? Did she want him to stay?

Staying meant marriage. It meant commitment. It meant responsibility. All the things that Gabe had been running away from for years.

It meant being like Randall.

Or…did it mean doing all those same things but in his own way?

“Can I come and see you, Gabe?” Charlie asked. “In Montana? Someday?”

“Charlie!” Freddie admonished.

But Charlie ignored her. His eyes were fastened on Gabe’s. “Can I? Can I come an’ learn to be a real cowboy? Someday?”

Someday.

Gabe thought about someday. He thought about all the somedays that would stretch out endlessly before him-with no Charlie, no Emma, no Freddie-if he walked out that door.

And suddenly, without thinking further, he blurted, “Why wait?”