Wouldn’t be long now. By the time she had tossed away their napkins, the rain was giving its last bit of nourishment to the ground. She opened the screen door, gazing up. Blue skies were already peeking through the dark clouds. “Come on, let’s get Bacon.”
As they walked across the saturated field, she hoped she could get in and out without coming face-to-face with the asshole. Honestly, she hoped to hell she somehow managed to get through the next few weeks without seeing him ever again.
As they trudged past the barn, she noticed the door had blown open. Why wouldn’t the dick lock it after he left? Lance had a lot of expensive equipment in there.
“Skylar, you go on in and get Bacon, okay? I’m going to lock up the barn for your dad. I’ll meet you at the back door.”
“Okay.” The little girl ran into the house, the screen door slapping closed behind her.
Sighing, Gayle approached the door. As she started to shut it, a furious grunt came from inside the barn.
She poked her head inside and froze. Straddling one of the practice dummies Lance used to train, was Mac. Sweat coated his entire body, dripped off his chin, matted his clothes to his skin, and slung off his wailing arms as he beat the dummy into oblivion. He suddenly jumped off it, grabbed it by the neck, and hurled it against the wall. An enraged bellow followed, then he stood there taking in huge gulps of air, clenching and unclenching his fists.
What the hell? She cautiously stepped inside, making sure to keep some distance from the enraged stranger before her.
“Mac?” she said softly.
His head snapped around and he stared at her—no, he stared through her. Her stomach knotted painfully at the vacant look. This wasn’t training. This was something else entirely.
He’s been to hell and back.
She’d told Lance she didn’t care how horrific Mac’s story was, believing there was no excuse for his behavior. But now… There was no sign of the Mac she’d spent time with, laughed with. This man…this man was caught in some mental hell. She swallowed, her heart breaking for him when just moments before she’d wanted to strangle him with her bare hands.
“Mac,” she repeated, a little more forcibly.
A shudder quaked his body as the tension expelled from him in a quick rush. Blinking, he glanced around, his eyes landing on the dummy across the room. He held out his hands, staring at them. Raw, bloody scrapes covered both knuckles. Gayle pressed a hand to her mouth. How long had he been beating that thing?
His gaze snapped to hers and every muscle stiffened as the haggard lines on his face drew into a deep scowl. “Get out.”
“I’ve already seen it, Mac. I can’t unsee it even if you send me away.”
A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw and he jerked his chin up.
“How often does this happen?” she asked.
“Never.”
“Then what triggered this?”
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”
“Tough shit.” She nodded at his hands. “You need to clean those up. Come on. I’ll make some coffee while you do.”
She made it to the door before she heard him move behind her with a string of angry mumbles. At least it was just resentment bringing on this anger. She knew what the resentment stemmed from—having someone catch him at the mercy of his emotions. Rick had caught her one time. Though she hadn’t been raged out like Mac had just been. She’d been in sobbing hysterics. There had been some throwing, though. And fury at who she’d lost.
As soon as they walked into the kitchen, Skylar bounded up to them with the pale pink pig clutched to her chest. “Bacon was fine.”
Gayle forced a broad smile for the child. “I told you he would be.” She glanced at Mac. A sheen of sweat coated the gray pallor of his skin. The adrenaline was fading now. “Hey, Skylar, why don’t you go up to your room to play a bit? I think we’ll stay over here until your daddy gets home.”
“Can I play Skylanders?”
“You betcha.”
“Awesome. Daddy never lets me play.” She raced from the room.
Worry shafted through Gayle as Mac collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, resting his elbows on the wood and burying his face in his hands. She hurried into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet. As she stopped at the table, she slid it in front of him. He lifted his bowed head and glared at the box.
“All right, handsome.” She banded her arms around herself, still shaken from what she’d witnessed. “Time for you to open up.”
His jaw clenched. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And I said tough shit. Consider it penance for being such a buttmunch.”
He remained stubbornly silent. Damn it all to hell.