“Listen. I’ve known there was something going on with you, but I didn’t pry because I don’t like anyone prying in my business. But when I find a man beating the crap out of something in a mindless rage, I need to know what the hell triggered it and why.”
“I thought you said you were going to make coffee.” There was still an angry bite to his words. Hmm. So anger was his coping mechanism. Suddenly, a whole lot of her encounters with him made a whole lot more sense. What had she done before to set it off? Clearly, there had been so much more underlying that exchange.
She held her ground and hiked an eyebrow. “I’ll make the coffee when you start talking.”
He slowly turned his head and glared at her with all the scary fighter he had in him. Before, it had made her hesitate. Not now. It was a mask. A fa?ade to keep from dealing with deeper issues. She was sure of it.
She kept hers stubborn and pointed. A standoff. A battle of wills. She would win this one. The man desperately needed to talk.
For a full minute, they both refused to give. Finally she said, “I always get what I want, handsome. I can do this—All. Day. Long.”
“Fine. You want to know my whole life story, here you fucking go. Did you know I grew up in this flat, hellish land?”
Ignoring the anger behind his words, she ambled over to the coffeepot and started the process to fulfill her end of the deal. “No. I didn’t. Was it here in Cheney?”
“No. Emerald fucking Springs. You would know about that place, wouldn’t you?”
She froze while putting the lid back on the coffee grounds and briefly closed her eyes. Oh, God, no. “When did you move to Atlanta?”
“When do you think?”
Pressing her fingers to her mouth, she stared down at the canister. The timing was there. She pulled her hand away from her mouth, flicked the machine on, inhaled deeply to compose herself, and turned to face him. “You were in the EF-5 tornado, weren’t you?”
He stared straight at her. He didn’t need to confirm it. Behind the hostility, the answer was etched clearly on his face. Tortured. Traumatized. God, the whole town had been destroyed. People killed…
“I wasn’t where I was supposed to fucking be,” he said, anger vibrating his voice.
She swallowed and quietly pulled out mugs. What did he mean by that?
“I was in a restaurant that wasn’t mine, helping some friends. Not knowing that decision would be the worst fucking decision I’d ever make.” He shook his head. “The tornado struck and while I was trapped under a goddamn refrigerator worried about myself, my home was being destroyed.”
“Tell me.”
“The restaurant was full for early dinner. Full. We scrambled, trying to get everyone tucked in somewhere. I was the last one, but there was no more room. So I crawled under the sink, wrapped my arms around the pipes, and started praying. The roar. I’ll never forget the roar…the screams, the glass shattering. The fierceness of the wind as it literally destroyed everything around me. I got pinned, until Lance found me and pulled me free.” His face contorted in pain before he wiped it away with a murderous scowl. “It was my day off. I should have been home.” He paused for a heartbeat. “Because I wasn’t, my wife was killed and I was left to find her.”
His wife. Mac had lost the woman he loved. Stunned, Gayle sank into the chair across from him, unable to form words.
Mac shook his head, and she knew he was seeing the agony of the moment all over again. God, how she wished she could ease his pain. But how could she, when her own still felt just as fresh?
“She was ten weeks pregnant.” He stared straight ahead, but the anger was gone from his voice. Instead it was filled with detachment. Monotone. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
God, a wife and a child. Fuck. That was worse. A lot worse.
Gayle took a shuddered breath as a tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly dashed it away. “Jesus. I’m so sorry, Mac.” And she was. More than he could know.
Needing to touch him, comfort him in some way, she cautiously took his hand in hers, grateful when he didn’t yank away.
“I left Kansas a month later and haven’t looked back once. Not until Lance called. How the hell do you say no to a man who saved your life?” Mac stared off across the room. “He didn’t do me any favors by pulling me out that day.”
She understood that train of thought, though she was long past her own death wish. But in the beginning there had been many, many months when she’d struggled with her grief, and she’d also wondered if she would be better off dead. Not knowing how to move forward, with a future so uncertain.