“But marriage?” Mac shook her head in total denial. “Have those idiots been sniffing too many cleaning products or gone off their meds or something?”
“I know it sounds like the stupidest idea in the world, but—” Did it ever. Bruiser couldn’t believe he’d even proposed it, yet once he had, he charged for the end zone, ignoring every linebacker in his way.
“It doesn’t just sound like it; it is the stupidest.” Mac shook her head and yanked her hands from his, hugging herself like she always did when she was feeling vulnerable and upset. Vulnerable was good. He could work with that, play on it, because this “stupid” idea was gaining traction in his mind.
“Think about it, Mac. We could be good together, and we’d be helping a kid out who really needs our help.”
“You’re not serious about this, are you? Bruiser, I would do almost anything to help Elliot, but not that. You and I have different priorities. Right now, mine is finding my brother so my family can have some closure and my dad doesn’t end up in a mental hospital. Even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t marry you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know who you are, and neither do you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mac grew quiet and started fidgeting. Bruiser narrowed his eyes and stared hard at her. “What are you trying to say?” he pushed her, not letting her off the hook.
She looked him straight in the eyes with that determined expression that meant trouble. “Your sister told me about Brice.”
Anger welled up inside Bruiser. For a minute, he couldn’t speak. “Shanna should learn to keep her mouth shut.” Now that fucking pissed him off. His sister had no right.
Mac blinked and stared at him as if he’d gone even more insane than when he proposed marriage. “I’m glad she did. I understand you more now.”
“I don’t need you to understand me or try to psychoanalyze me.”
“Bruiser, why are you living someone else’s life? Why are you being someone you aren’t?”
Bruiser gripped the steering wheel, more furious than he probably had a right to be. “Because I should’ve been the one who died, dammit!”
“That’s like me saying I should’ve been the one who disappeared.”
“You don’t know.” He looked up at her, his world caving in on him. All those carefully constructed walls to keep out the demons started to crumble.
“What don’t I know, Bruiser?” She grabbed his hand and held it tightly.
“I gave him those matches and cigarettes.” Saying the words strangled him. He couldn’t bear seeing the sympathy on Mac’s face because all he felt was self-loathing.
“You were a kid. Stuff happens. It’s unfortunate, but you can’t live your life for someone else.” She squeezed his hand, and he took some strength from her touch.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
Mac blinked as if unable to process his words. “What?”
“Yeah, you. Chasing after every imagined clue about your brother, allowing your father to dictate your present and future, and giving up your life for someone who most likely will never be found. When does it stop?” Bruiser lashed out with this uncontrollable need to make her hurt as much as he did.
Mac stared a hole right through him. Oh, he was a hero, all right. A real stand-up guy. Sure, he’d managed to deflect her questions about him, but at what price to her?
“If your brother were missing, and you didn’t know what happened to him, at what point would you consider it time to give up the search?” Mac glared at him, the challenge in her brown eyes.
Bruiser mulled that over, guessing that she didn’t expect an answer but hell-bent on giving her one anyway. An honest one she damn well wouldn’t appreciate. “The question is when do you consider it time to get on with your life? To live the life you deserve to live? You didn’t ask for this. Why should you be punished for it?”
“Hey, neither did you. We both do what we have to do. How much of your brother’s life are you living? Do you even like football?”
Now that was a low blow, one of the lowest. He pulled his hand from hers. “What have you seen out of me that gives you the impression that I’m less than one hundred percent dedicated to the game?”
“Nothing, and I won’t because you’re that type of person. Whatever you do—love it or hate it—you do it with everything you have, which is why you proposed this crazy idea of marriage in the first place.”
“You’re right. It is crazy, and I’m sorry I even brought it up.” Bruiser pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence to Mac’s house. He dropped her off and sped away without saying goodbye.
And he felt like a shit for it.
Because part of him knew she was right.
* * * * *
As much as Mac hated weakness and women who cried over every little problem in their lives, she’d been doing a lot of that herself lately. As she stood on her porch and watched Bruiser fishtail down the street, a huge sob shook her body and tears streamed down her face. She pounded her fists against the siding of her house in frustration.
Damn him.
What kind of a screwy proposal had that been, or even worse, had it been one at all? And how pathetic was it that “yes” sat on the tip of her tongue? The urge to do something so completely stupid, reckless, and for herself almost overwhelmed her good sense.
Yet how did this constitute something for herself? In reality, it benefitted Bruiser and Elliot, not her.
She’d live in constant fear that the pretty boy would get tired of her and find more attractive ground. She might be able to survive with never having anything but a cursory piece of him as long as they stayed together, but she couldn’t live with loving him and losing him. For her, it had to be a marriage of love. For him it would be a minor
