Then I flipped the phone shut and stared at Juno. I was sitting in my armchair; she was laying on my feet snoozing.
It was late. Mace had come home earlier to drop off the groceries but he couldn’t stay and I didn’t know when he’d get back. I’d made myself dinner for one, homemade chicken and rice pilaf and the round of cal s to the Rock Chicks to get them up-to-date and make sure they were keeping their mouths shut. Then I made the round of cal s to my band, including Floyd and Buzz who were driving home from Oklahoma. I gave them the head’s up and put them under threat of death if they didn’t keep their mouths shut too.
But now I was sitting there, going over my strategy in my head and I was worried.
Even though both Hector and Al y said I was doing the right thing, I was thinking maybe I was going too fast.
Maybe I should wait until al the other stuff was finished.
Maybe I should wait until Mace was used to us being back together, until I’d been able to work on him a bit longer.
Maybe Mace didn’t need to deal with his Mom and Stepmom when bul ets were flying and his Dad was being an asshole.
I heard the key in the door and Juno jolted up.
The door opened, the alarm started beeping and Mace walked in, his eyes coming directly to me.
“Hey, babe,” he said.
My heart did that settling thing again and I replied, “Hey.” He turned to the alarm, deactivated it, reactivated it then relocked the door as I walked across the room to him. Juno had already made it and he bent low to give her a rubdown while I stopped a few steps away and looked at him.
He looked good, faded jeans, black belt, black boots.
Today’s short-sleeved Henley was dark gray, the sleeves again tight around his biceps but with the way he was bent and rubbing Juno, the material had also stretched against his back, defining his lats. He was in a partial squat, the jeans too had stretched tight against the muscles of his knee and thigh. His dark hair needed a trim, so much so, it had started to have a bit of curl on the ends. But I could stil see some skin at the back of his neck, the skin was tan, the shoulders under the tee were broad.
Standing there, petting my dog, he was, put simply, beautiful.
I thought for a minute that he had to know it, how beautiful he was but it didn’t matter to him, not even a little bit.
For the first time in my life I found myself wondering how I got so lucky.
He kept bent low, his long fingers sifting through Juno’s fur as she wagged her tail and panted but his head tilted up to me when he said, “You’re up late.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You hungry?”
“No, boys had a meet at Lincoln’s. Ate there.”
“They pick up Sid?” I asked.
He straightened and shook his head. “Gone to ground.
Eddie and Hank had a meet with Turner. They’ve made a deal with the Feds, workin’ together now. They’re bringing in Sid’s soldiers. The ones they got shit on, they’re lockin’
up. The rest of ‘em, they’re shakin’ down.”
“Progress then.”
“Yeah.”
“What about George?”
“George has backed down. Lee sent him the photos Smithie got hold of. He does like his women chesty and I won’t explain how I know that.” I grimaced and Mace kept talking. “George is no longer a problem.” I nodded and we stopped talking and stood there, about three feet apart. Juno had sat down between us and was looking from one to the other, stil panting.
Final y, Mace spoke. “You okay?”
I blinked. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
“‘Cause your body’s wound up tight.”
“No it isn’t,” I lied.
“Babe, it is.”
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
“You been playin’?” he meant guitar.
I shook my head.
“You should play,” he told me.
“I know,” I replied.
We stopped talking and started staring at each other again.
Why was this weird?
But it was weird, way weird, scary weird.
I worried that it was because I told him I loved him and he didn’t know what to do with that.
Things had always been intense between us, when we were together before and then getting back to it. He’d told me we were moving in together, real y moving in together even though we were somewhat moved in together now.
With al he was doing, I knew he had to care about me, a lot.
I didn’t know if he loved me but I didn’t think he’d think it was a bad thing that I loved him.
So, why was he so far away? Why didn’t he approach?
Why was he staring at me with his face blank like that? Why didn’t he even come ful y into the house?
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
“Fuck no,” he answered immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
He took a step forward, just one, but reached out the rest of the way. He grabbed a wrist and gently twisted my arm.
You could see the bruises, they weren’t angry but they were there.
there.
“Fucking hel ,” he muttered, eyes locked on my arm. His other hand came out and grabbed my other wrist, twisted it and his eyes moved to stare at the identical bruising there.