Page 65 of The Last True Hero
"Kid sisters," he said dryly. McClain lay flat on his back on the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Can't live with them sometimes, can't live without them."
"Yeah." She looked at him. "Sometimes people don't get it. What family means to me."
"I know. The rest is just a technicality." His voice trailed off and he stared at the ceiling, going someplace distant.
She recognized that distance. It had been in his eyes when he spent all of that time in her bar, staring into his glass of whiskey as if it held the secrets of the world within it. McClain had demons. She'd known that the moment she met him.
"That sounded like it had hidden meaning to it," she said softly, sounding him out.
McClain's head rolled toward her. He'd shaved that afternoon, but she kind of missed the scruff of dark beard that had taken over his jawline in the last day or so. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen him looking anything other than clean-shaven. It put a dint in the myth of him. Made him seem more human to her. More touchable. He was so in control of himself that sometimes it seemed like she'd never breach that gap between them. Maybe shaving was just another means to take ownership of his life?
"There was a little girl that I was raising," he finally admitted. Exhaustion created dark hollows beneath his eyes. "I was always 'Uncle Adam' to her, but it felt like she was mine. I would have moved mountains for that kid."
"What happened?"
Please not something bad.... But maybe that was the secret he carried, the one that weighed heavily on his shoulders, and wouldn't let him reach out to her.
"Her name was Lily," he said, voice soft and confessional in the darkened room. "And she belonged to a friend of mine, Luc Wade. He couldn't raise her for a long time, so I stepped in. At first it was a duty: I owed him that. But Lily... she was the most loving little kid. She used to have these nightmares, and she'd come up to my room as though she wanted to sit out front of my door. As though that made her feel safe. So I'd call her in and... I remember the first night she fell asleep in my arms. The way she curled herself in against my neck, as though nothing bad could ever touch her again when I was there. That was when I knew she was mine." His voice trailed off. "Or she was. Wade came back, and you know, of all the losses I've had in my life that one was the worst."
"So he just rides back in and picks up where he left off?"
McClain tilted his head toward her. "It's not like that."
The moment stretched out and it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything more.
Right. Half a confession then. Mia sighed and rolled flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. Every time she thought she was getting somewhere with him, he backed away.
And she didn't know why that bothered her so much. This wasn't going anywhere. She knew that. She'd been telling herself those words ever since he strolled in through the doors of her bar, his boots caked with dust and his black cowboy hat hiding his eyes. That moment had nearly knocked her off her feet, and she realized that she still hadn't fully recovered from it.
A single moment and she knew that Adam McClain was going to leave scars on her life that she might never recover from.
The question was: would it be worth it? A touch of paradise, maybe just one night in his arms, branding that memory on her skin for all the long years ahead.
Would it be enough for her?
Every bone in her body felt like lead. Mia closed her eyes. She couldn't answer that. Everything in her past told her not to take that risk. All she knew was loss. The woman who'd given birth to her; the parents who'd lovingly raised her as their own; the boy who'd broken her heart.
But she also knew what years of guarding herself felt like.
No one to sit beside at night and whisper all of her daily musings in his ear. No warm arms around her in bed. She was tough enough to survive by herself. She had Sage, after all, and a job that kept her busy.
But was it enough for her to merely survive? Longing filled her chest, an aching chasm that threatened to swallow her whole.Just once, just once, just once, that longing whispered. Just once to pretend, and then she could cherish that memory for the rest of her life.
If he would let her in....
"There are so many things I can't tell you," McClain said, as if trying to explain.
"You're not married, are you? No other woman tucked away somewhere?"
"No."
"You're not a murderer, or diseased, or—?"
"No." McClain shook his head in frustration. "Mia, I can't—"
She pressed her finger to his soft lips. Fine then. "I'm not dreaming of happily ever after, McClain. All I want is one night. And I get it. You can't tell me something. Or maybe you don't want to break my heart when you're gone...?"
His lashes fluttered shut, blond at the tips. "Mia." There was a wealth of need in that one word. Every inch of his body said one thing, while his lips said another.
