“No,” Craig said so quietly that Bruiser barely heard him. “I just don’t think I can do it alone.” The man’s voice cracked, and Bruiser’s irritation subsided. He wished like hell he could heal this poor man’s life and Mac’s. Only he couldn’t.
Unless—
Trudy.
Bruiser shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind.
“Is that fair to her? You’re using guilt to manipulate her into helping you.”
Craig shrugged. “I guess I have been.”
“If you want to dedicate your life to the search, that’s up to you, but you shouldn’t expect Mac to do it. Hell, be a father for once and think about your daughter’s well-being instead of fixating on a son who is no longer here. Do what’s best for Mac.”
Craig said nothing. His shoulders sagged, his entire body that of a broken man.
“Do you have any idea where Mac might have gone?”
“I don’t know.”
Of course Craig wouldn’t know. He didn’t know anything about Mac because he hadn’t paid any attention to her these past three years. “Well, thanks. I’ll find her.”
“If you do, would you have her call me?”
“Yeah, I will.” Bruiser glanced back out the window again. “Why don’t you go home and get something to eat? You’re not going to see anything they don’t want you to see.”
Craig shrugged but made no attempt to move.
“And start being the father Mac needs. Get some professional help if you can’t do it on your own.”
Craig nodded.
Bruiser hoped like hell that Craig considered his words.
* * * * *
Mac stood in front of the nondescript condo in Kirkland near Lake Washington. She’d never been to his place before, which was a little weird considering how long they’d been seeing each other, but he’d never invited her. She expected Bruiser to live in that sleek new high-rise on the water, but it was an older condo, still nice, still with a view, but definitely not high-end. It shouldn’t surprise her after what his sister had said.
Why the hell she’d come here, she didn’t know.
After driving around endlessly, trying not to think about her bleak future, she’d ended up at Bruiser’s condo, a place she’d never been to before but had the address for. But Bruiser wasn’t home. She stared at her silent cell phone, which she’d switched off hours ago. She didn’t attempt to turn it back on, not that anyone would be calling except for her father with news of his latest harebrained scheme.
The She-Wolves would be with their guys. There wasn’t anyone else. She had hit rock bottom. She needed Bruiser.
It was getting late, and Bruiser still wasn’t home. He’d probably hooked up with some beautiful woman Mac could never compete with. Of course, she’d given up the right to do so after she’d pretty much set him straight about his ludicrous marriage suggestion. As much as she’d like to help Elliot, she couldn’t sell her soul to that particular devil. In exchange for what? A wedding ring? A stable home? A college education? A lifetime in a marriage with a man she adored—most likely loved—but who didn’t love her?
She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, she was startled awake by someone rapping on her driver’s-side window. Bruiser’s handsome face was illuminated by the streetlamp next to her car.
Mac rolled down the window. “Hi.”
“I’ve been looking all over hell and back for you.” His brow was furrowed with worry and his blue eyes shone with concern.
“I was here, waiting for you.” She loved that he’d been looking for her. It gave her those warm fuzzies. It gave her hope.
“No shit?” He almost laughed. “Come on, let’s go in.”
“This was a bad idea. I’d better go home.”
“You’ve been waiting here for me and now you want to go home? How about a cup of coffee?”
A cup of coffee sounded good, but it’d be followed by a half-gallon of sex. “I’d better not. It’s late, and you have practice tomorrow.”
Bruiser glanced at his Rolex. “It’s only ten. I can spare you an hour.”
“Okay.” Willpower was overrated anyway.
He took her hand and led her into his roomy condo. Inside the entry was a huge open-plan living, dining, and kitchen area, upgraded with granite countertops and dark cabinets. The ultra-sleek and modern furniture was all beige, with pillows for a splash of color. Even though it wasn’t her style, it was actually comfortable. Typical man: a huge flat-screen dominated one wall, while through the huge wall of windows, the waters of Lake Washington glittered in the distance.
Bruiser pulled her into his arms and held her close, stroking her hair. “I heard about your job.”
Mac resisted the urge to bury her head in his chest and let go of the pain and fear. Instead, she stiffened in his arms. This was not a good idea. In fact, it was a stupid-assed one to the nth degree.
“I’m glad you came. You know I’ll always be here for you.” His soft, gentle voice washed over her, relaxing her a little. He stroked her back, his touch gentle yet strong. As if he could be strong for her.
“Yes, I know.”
“Everything will be okay, Mac. You’ll see.”
Easy for him to say. He made more than seven million a year. “I know. I’m tough. I’ll get through it.” She put her palms on his chest and stepped away. “Coming here was a stupid idea.”
Bruiser frowned. “Then why did you come here?”
“I don’t know.” Oh, God, she was going to cry in front of this man again. He must think she spent half her time crying.
He stood a few feet from her, his hands shoved in his pockets, tapping one foot, as if he couldn’t stand not doing something. Bruiser was a fixer, but he couldn’t fix this. No one could. Not even her.
“Mac.” He took a step forward.
She held out her hands to stop him. “I’d better leave. I’m just prolonging the inevitable.”
“What’s the inevitable?”
“The end—again—of our—uh—affair, whatever you want to call it.”
“We don’t
