13
Marley woketo see Mack standing at the mouth of the cave, his hands clasped behind his back. His bare shoulders shifted and she was drawn to the firm muscles highlighted by the play of shadows in the moonlight.
There was nothing soft about him. Despite the fact there was some gray in his hair, he kept himself in better shape than men half his age. Her stomach flipped over as she stared at him, remembering the feel of him between her thighs. Remembering his mouth on her body. There was nothing rash or selfish about him as a lover. He’d given her an orgasm first—twice. He’d made sure she was taken care of, just like he’d been doing since the plane crash.
Marley slowly got to her feet, savoring every single bit of tenderness in her body, knowing it had nothing to do with the crash and everything to do with the powerful man standing before her. She slipped on his T-shirt and padded up behind him.
He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. His chiseled features had desire pulsing through her veins. Though she could tell he was trying to appear relaxed, his worry was obvious in his strong jaw line. Unable to help herself, Marley traced his deepening five o’clock shadow. “You’re concerned about your men.”
It wasn’t a question. He knew it; she knew it.
Mack’s answer was to pull her closer as he scanned the dark horizon. “They can take care of themselves.”
Of course they could take care of themselves. She’d watched them move together in synchronicity—both on the plane and in action. If she were ever in a gunfight again, which she sincerely hoped she never was, she’d want to be with this team. “It doesn’t mean you can’t worry about them. I know my daughter’s home safe with my father and mother. I know they’ll take care of her, but I still worry.”
Mack’s gaze finally drifted from the forest down to her and Marley drew in a breath at the open sincerity in his gray eyes. “Why isn’t her father watching her?” His question shouldn’t have surprised her, but it still knocked some of the air from her lungs. She hadn’t really talked about her loss with anyone except Maddie and her parents. Was it right for her to have this conversation with the first man she’d had sex with since his death? Marley searched his gaze, but all she saw was curiosity and maybe a little concern. She relaxed. Maybe it was time for her to talk to someone about it, and something inside her wanted it to be Mack Grey.
“Her father died six years ago. He was a Marine. There was a roadside bomb.” A dull pain washed over her, not as sharp as it used to be but still edged enough to wound. It hadn’t been fair or right for John to be taken from them so suddenly, and Maddie had been so young. Just like her father and mother had told her, it had gotten easier with time—easier but noteasy.
Mack squeezed her waist and Marley leaned her head into his chest, grateful that he hadn’t said something stupid or fake like ‘I can’t imagine’ or ‘At least he died for his country.’ There’d been so many of those comments in the past, people trying to say the right words and do the right things. Most of her friends had been her age, John’s age, and none of them had ever lost someone so young. Their natural tendency had been to pull away, unsure of how to feel or what to say around her. It hadn’t helped that all their friends were couple friends—with John gone, Marley no longer fit into the group dynamic. So, she’d gone home, embracing motherhood with everything she had, and dedicating the rest of herself to her job.
“It must’ve been tough on you losing him so young. How old was your daughter?”
“She was two. He was gone most of the time leading up to that mission, so she didn’t really know him. But he loved her and he loved me, and he did the best he could.”
Mack gave an understanding nod. “He sounds like a good man.”
Somehow it didn’t feel awkward being nearly naked in Mack’s arms while he talked about her deceased husband. It felt . . . right and natural. “He was there when she was born. For most of the first year he didn’t really know what to do with a baby girl.” Marley suspected most men felt the same way around infants, but John had always helped her when he could. “He got up with me when I had those late-night feedings and diaper changes, he lulled her to sleep when I was exhausted, and then he’d take us both to bed.” The memory was hazy but still there. The more Marley tried to think about John’s face and features, the harder it became to recall the details. One thing she hoped she would never forget was his smile and the absolute love in his eyes when he stared down at their daughter.
“I had a wife and a son.” Mack stared out over the horizon, shadows forming under his eyes. Pain hit her chest again. “Had?” Had he lost his family, too? His son?
“I was gone on deployments for most of our marriage. Barbara always said she understood and supported me a hundred percent. But . . .” He shrugged. “I should’ve never gotten married in this line of work.”
“Did she leave you because you were gone so much?
The smile lines around his eyes deepened and his finger touched her arm.
“I came home from a deployment. I had talked to her the week before to let her know I was coming home. She acted like everything was fine. Cooper was fifteen at the time. My son. I barely got to talk to him anymore, but I always figured it was a simple case of teenage hormones. That he probably preferred to go out with his friends than stay at home waiting to talk to a father he never saw.” Mack’s throat worked as he swallowed.
“I knew something was wrong right when I walked through the door. The house smelled different. The heater was on, even though it was summer. The carpet was filthy, there were dirty dishes everywhere, and Barb had never let the house go like that before.”
Something squeezed around Marley’s chest, and she fumbled for Mack’s hand, hearing the pain in his voice, knowing what was coming next. His wife had left him and taken their son. She had heard the story plenty of times in the military. Women and men alike, spouses who married into the military and then had a hard time being a single parent most of the time. Marley wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him she understood, but she held silent, some instinct inside her telling her to wait. That Mack needed to say the words out loud.
“I walked down the hallway, hearing my footsteps creak on the old wooden floorboards. That house was built in 1901. Barb fell in love with it and insisted she could refurbish it. And she did . . . she made the place shine. And then I heard it.”
Chills covered Marley’s arms despite the muggy heat. Had he walked in on her having an affair?
“Our bedroom door stood open at the end of the hall. I didn’t notice at first. She’d been napping. I was frozen in the doorway. I should’ve known something was off when I talked to her on the phone. She didn’t stay on the call as long as she usually did. She sounded so tired every time we spoke, but I’d been too busy to take notice. I had no idea what was really going on.”
The buzzing of insects and howling of monkeys seemed to fade into the distance as Marley listened to him speak. She wished for all the world that she could take the pain away from Mack. How could anyone ever cheat on this man? Anger swept over her on his behalf. She wanted to take him into her arms and kiss the woman’s memory away. And then Mack looked down at her and the raw pain in his eyes stole her breath.
“The woman lying in my bed was a pale shadow of my wife. There were IVs and other lines hooked up to her arms. It wasn’t even our bed—someone had moved in a hospital bed with rails on the sides. Her blonde hair was cut short. She weighed about forty pounds less than when I’d seen her last. I don’t even remember walking across the floor, but I did. I took her hand in mine and all I can remember is how cold it was. For a minute, I thought she was already dead.”
Marley’s anger was smothered under the heavy weight of shock. “You didn’t know?”
Mack kept talking like he hadn’t heard her speak. He wasn’t looking at her but through her. “I was off the grid. I had no idea. She woke up and turned to me. I could see how hard it was for her to smile, but she did. She squeezed my hand and gave me that same reassuring smile she’d given me after our son was born—when I was scared to death about being a father. She was always so strong.”
Tears slipped free from Marley’s eyes and she cupped his face, wishing for all the world she could take the memories from him. Part of her didn’t want to hear any more. The pain was too real, too hard to swallow.
