Caden respected the hell out of Joe Flaherty. Had for his entire adult life. And if Joe believed all that about Caden, maybe there was truth in what he said. And if Joe was willing to fight for Caden, maybe Caden could figure out how to fight for himself, too.
It starts with you.
That idea connected to something deep inside Caden. He didn’t know what it was. He didn’t know what it meant. But he grasped onto it, and he grasped onto Joe’s support. Because he had to grasp on to something.
Before he lost himself forever.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Makenna pulled her car into her father’s driveway, her stomach a nervous, nauseous wreck. For once, that wasn’t her morning sickness talking. It was the looming conversation she needed to have with her dad and brothers. The one that informed them she was pregnant and nearly twelve weeks along. And that the father was out of the picture.
Two weeks had passed since Caden had left his key. Two weeks since she’d left that voicemail. Two weeks of silence, although she had sent him a Christmas card. One last attempt to reach out.
No. Don’t think about Caden.
Heaving a deep breath, she nodded to herself. She couldn’t think of him without getting upset. And angry. And confused. And worried. None of which made her love him any less, though, which just made her so, so sad.
Enough. It’s Christmas.
Right. It would’ve been their first.
The thought made her eyes sting.
She forced her gaze to the ceiling of her car, pinching off the threatening tears.
When she’d reined herself in, she retrieved the shopping bags of gifts from her back seat and made her way inside.
“There’s my peanut,” Dad said when she walked into the kitchen, the nickname making her throat tight. The smell of pancakes and bacon surrounded her—Dad had made the same thing for Christmas breakfast every year since forever.
“Hi,” she managed. “Merry Christmas.”
Patrick sat at the breakfast bar, the newspaper spread out in front of him and a coffee mug in his hand. “Merry Christmas,” he said, an affectionate smile on his face. “Wondering when you were gonna get here.”
“I know,” she said, guilt eating at her. She’d never missed a Christmas Eve at home before, but the holiday had really hit her hard the day before and she’d just needed the time to herself. So she’d called and blamed her inability to make the trip on a bad headache. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it yesterday.”
“Feeling better?” her dad asked. She nodded. He wiped his hands on a tea towel and took her bags. “Let me help with these,” he said, carrying them into the living room for her. She followed him in and was just about to comment on how pretty the Christmas tree looked when he turned with his arms wide open.
Swallowing the words, Makenna fell into his embrace, needing it like she hadn’t needed a hug from her father in years. Needing the support and the protection and the unconditional love she’d always found in this man, who’d managed to give her and her brothers everything they needed in a family, even though they’d all lost their mother.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she said.
“It is now that all my kids are home.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her into the kitchen. “Hungry?’
“Famished, actually,” and she was. Being here was good. Being here helped. It beat back the loneliness she’d been battling. It proved she wasn’t alone, no matter what. It distracted her from her troubles. And it reminded her that, as much as she’d lost, she had so very much to be grateful for, too.
“Where are Collin and Ian?” she asked, bumping her shoulder against Patrick’s. He pulled her into a one-armed hug.
“They were getting cleaned up. Should be down any minute,” her dad said as he poured a few circles of batter onto the griddle.
“How’s Caden? What’s he doing today?” Patrick asked.
Makenna was prepared for this one. “Since he had Thanksgiving off, he had to work Christmas.” At least that’s what he’d said back at Thanksgiving. She wasn’t sure if he was back to work or not. She hadn’t let herself call Bear again, and he hadn’t called her.
Patrick nodded. “I hear that. I’m on tonight, but at least I have the day.”
Footsteps on the stairs sounded out, and then Collin and Ian joined them in the kitchen. Another round of hugs and greetings and Christmas wishes ensued.
“How are you feeling?” Makenna asked Collin. His hair had grown in enough to begin to cover the scar on the side of his forehead.
“Doing okay. Still having some headaches, but it’s better than it was,” he said. “I wish Caden had come. I would’ve liked to thank him for everything he did while I was actually with it.”
Makenna hugged herself and forced a smile. “You did thank him. Anyway, he’d tell you he was just doing his job.”
“Still,” her father said, pointing with his spatula, “he made a bad night better. Him and Patrick both. I’ll never forget that.”
A knot of emotion lodged in Makenna’s throat. “Can I have blueberries in my pancakes, Dad?”