7. Mae

7

MAE

F our years ago, my father was the victim of a carjacking in the middle of New York. The police told us that it was a painfully common occurrence, but his death had been swift, and he likely hadn't suffered. Rather than cry, my Mom yelled at me as if it were my fault.

If I hadn't moved to the city, he would still be alive.

If I hadn't insisted on him driving because his car was safer, then he would have been at the apartment with us.

I knew it was the grief talking, but those words stuck with me for years after he passed. He was cremated in New York, and my mother brought the ashes with her when she returned to Baxton, swearing to never set foot in New York ever again. Then, two months later, she called me up and told me that she'd had Dad's ashes buried in the cemetery because having the urn in the house was too much to bear.

As I approached the cemetery, my gut twisted into soft knots and my heart skipped a few beats like someone's hand was wrapped around it. This was my first time visiting his grave, and something about that made me nervous. Like he was going to be sitting there next to his grave, ready to interrogate me with the hatred my mother displayed that night.

The warm summer air baked down onto my bare arms, but despite the heat, a chill stole across my shoulders when I stepped through the wrought iron gate. Gravel crunched underfoot, and I winced, not wanting to disturb anyone else in their grief. The crepe paper protection around the flowers in my hand crumbled as I tightened my grip. Rows upon rows of gravestones dotted the cemetery, scattered amid crypts, trees, and benches, all commemorating someone who passed too soon. For a town so small, the graveyard was uncomfortably large and full.

I followed the gravel path, mapping out my mother's instructions in my mind.

He's buried next to Aunt Jude, all the way up near the sycamore tree .

Truth be told, I didn't know what a sycamore tree was, but after twenty minutes of wandering between different trees and scanning headstones, I found him.

Gold ink swirled across black marble splattered with grey.

Keiran Murphy, loving father and husband.

Gone far before his time but never forgotten .

As I stood before the stone, I realized that this was the first time I'd seen his name written down since his cremation. One day, he was there. The next, he was just a memory that wasn't even written about anymore.

I tucked my feet together and crossed my arms over my middle as my gut twisted sharply.

"Hey, Dad."

Silence was my answer. Of course it was. Breathing deeply, the scents of sweet sap and freshly mown grass invaded my senses while I traced the gold text with my eyes.

"I brought you some flowers. Daisies, like you love. Loved." A wave of foolishness washed over me, and the silence after I stopped speaking felt even louder.

How did people do this?

I stared down for a few seconds, then I crouched and placed the flowers just beside his gravestone with the stems in the dirt. Maybe that would help keep them alive.

Standing, I clutched at my forearms and forced myself to speak.

"Zack misses you. I mean, I don't think he fully understands, considering how young he was when you—" A static rush of emotion flooded up my throat. "When you passed. But he has some memories of you. He's spending the day with Mom. All this time, she was so indifferent about a visit, but now that they're together, they're inseparable." I smiled, imagining my father's deep, hearty chuckle. "He looks like you sometimes, in a certain light. If I got him glasses and dyed his hair gray, it would be uncanny."

The more I talked, the less awkward I felt and things started to pour.

"My job still sucks," I said. "I got a pay raise, but it turned out it was just a company-wide thing and not because I'd done anything special. But if I play my cards right, I might get assigned to an actual lawyer rather than working down in the briefing room. Lots more to learn."

I lifted my gaze and glanced around, aimlessly eyeing all the other headstones I could see. There really was no one else around, and a sharp pang of sympathy shot through my chest. It was painfully easy to tell which graves were still lovingly tended and which had fallen victim to time.

"You remember Denise? My best friend? She's getting married in the fall, can you believe it? He seems nice. We've had dinner a few times, and Zack likes him, so…" I shrugged and slowly rubbed my palms together. "Zack's a little brainbox too. Top of his class and everything. I wish you could see him."

Those words left me, and another tight band sealed around my chest. Warmth prickled behind my eyes and on my next blink, the world blurred around me.

I missed him. I missed his advice, his warmth, and the comforting looks he would give me each time I argued with my Mom. I missed the silent conversations and the understanding that my mother was a hard woman to deal with but she meant well. Deep down.

"I miss you," I croaked out softly, hastily wiping away a few of the tears that escaped me when I blinked. "I miss you so much. And I'm…" Emotion fizzed behind my nose. I screwed up my eyes and sniffled. "I'm sorry for what happened. If I hadn't moved to the city, then maybe… maybe you'd still be here."

I don't know when this pain was supposed to get easier. As the days went by, the agony of losing my father didn't fade. It just shifted inside me. Everything else tucked around it a little better, but the heartbreak remained forever, a tight knot in my heart that I would carry for the rest of my life.

"I'm so, so sorry," I wept, stepping forward and lightly touching his headstone. "I'm sorry."

Emotions I didn't even realize I was carrying poured forth, and I cried into my hands for a few long moments. Nothing comforted me, and I would have cried for hours if a distant crunch of gravel hadn't pulled me out of my weeping. Several rows away, a woman clutching roses to her chest flashed me a familiar smile.

The smile of sympathy that shared pain but asked not to be disturbed.

I couldn't smile back, and she turned away too quickly for me to even offer a small, sad wave. Sniffling, I watched her trudge up the path and melt behind a crypt, vanishing and returning me to my silence. The break was enough for me to reclaim a handle on my emotions.

I dried my tears, sniffled deeply, and cleared my throat.

"Bye, Dad. I'll come see you again. And I'll bring Zack."

I ran my fingers under my eyes again and then turned, ready to head back to my car, when I spotted a figure standing next to me about a yard away.

He stood tall, his black shirt stretched over his clearly muscular body. The top two buttons hung open, exposing golden skin just underneath. A white belt offset his black pants, and white shoes anchored his wide stance.

Honey-gold eyes locked onto me, and plush lips twitched at the corners when our eyes met. Then, a subtle, soft smile settled amid the dusting of dark facial hair around his sharp-angled jaw. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his slacks, and a black hat with a dark satin ribbon sat atop his head.

It had been seven years since I saw that face, and while age had changed it—making him look much more rugged and refined—I would recognize him anywhere.

Rocco Adami.

How long had he been standing there? How long had he been watching me crying my eyes out over a gravestone?

"Mary," Rocco said.

Like a leash wrapped around my gut, his voice dragged me right back to our wild night. That deep way he looked into my eyes and the all-consuming way he kissed me like he was trying to imprint onto me. I felt twenty years old again and at the mercy of his stunning good looks .

"It's Mae now," I replied tightly. My voice was rough from my crying. I straightened my back, not that it made much difference since he was over a head taller than me. He looked like a real man now. Back in college, I thought he'd always looked like a mature man, but now, in comparison, he was just a boy.

"Mae," Rocco repeated. The way his lips pressed together, it was like he was savoring the taste of my name, and his eyes twinkled slightly. Then they moved to the gravestone next to me, and I saw a flicker of surprise dart across those handsome features.

"Your father," he said softly, a note of sadness in his voice. His eyes locked back onto mine, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe. "I'm sorry for your loss."

And then I saw it. The same bone-creaking, soul-crushing grief that came from losing a parent. No one could understand just how heartbreaking it was until they experienced it themselves, and in the few moments of standing here, I'd forgotten what my mom had told me.

Rocco shared that pain now, and my arms ached suddenly with the urge to comfort him.

Until I remembered why we were strangers.

"He was killed in the city," I said tightly, trying to maintain eye contact and not stare at every detail of his face. "Carjacking."

The corners of his mouth dipped down. "Mae. I'm so sorry."

That apology carried more weight than I could bear. An offer of condolences, yes, but there was something else there. Another apology I didn't want.

I wanted to walk away. I yelled at myself to do just that—to turn around and walk away—but my body wasn't listening to the sensible part of my brain. For seven years, I had ached for this man, heartbroken that he'd left me without a word, and now, suddenly, he was back .

"Are you?" I snapped, unable to stop myself. "I would have called you, or even texted you to let you know, but there was this really fucking weird thing."

Once I started, I couldn't stop.

"Where you fucked me and then just vanished off the face of the earth, never to be seen again. Not even a forwarding address. So, forgive me if I don't care about your worthless apologies. Keep your sympathy."

Rocco appeared completely unfazed. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he took a single step forward, rapidly closing the gap between us.

"Mae," he said softly, like a plea. "I am sorry. You won't believe me, but I swear on everything I have and everything I care about that I didn't mean to leave you in the lurch that night. Or ever."

"But you did," I snapped, wetting my lips as his presence turned my mouth into the Sahara. "You did leave. And then you were nothing but a ghost."

"It was painfully necessary," Rocco explained, taking another step forward. "There was a family emergency, and from there…" He sucked on his teeth, and when he inhaled, his broad chest seemed to double in size. "I had to attend. I had to take care of things, and by the time I had a moment to myself, I was certain it was too late."

The world around me melted away. Breathing in, all I could smell was an enticing mix of freshly chopped wood and something fruity. Somehow, Rocco smelled exactly the same as that night, and my stomach flipped. He stepped forward once more, and now he was so close that if I took a deep breath, my chest would rub against his ribs.

This close, the brim of his hat blocked out the glare of the sun and made his eyes strikingly clear.

"By then," Rocco continued, "I was certain you had a new life. New people. I was nothing more than a memory. Or a nightmare. "

"Family emergency kept you away from the phone for years, huh?" I said, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my spine. Everything about Rocco was inviting me in and it was taking all my mental strength to remain angry.

"If you knew my family…" Rocco's tongue tsked behind his teeth. "Which is why I'm in town. My father wants to be buried here, so here he shall be. I was so ready for everything about this trip to be nothing but pain, and then here you are, looking as good as ever."

Warmth flushed across my cheeks and I swallowed hard, finally tearing my eyes away from his honey gaze.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said tightly, trying to look anywhere but at him.

Rocco leaned forward and immediately drew my gaze back to him with just a breath.

"Mae." Once again, he said my name like he was savoring the taste, and my heart punched up to my throat.

It was like my dream. He was so close that I could kiss him. I could slap his stupid face for leaving me and then pull him into a biting kiss with the same breath. Seven years had passed, and my body still ached for the fire he had ignited across my skin. No one else had compared.

Ever.

I slowly licked my lower lip, and the temptation grew. Rocco's eyes darted down to my mouth, and his white teeth snagged his own lower lip.

"Rocco," I said hoarsely, wrestling with what I ached to do and what I knew I should do.

Luckily, my responsibility to Zack won out. Rocco was here for his father's funeral and then he would fuck off back to wherever he came from. I did not need some flake coming into my life—and Zack's life— just for some good sex. Especially not when that man was Zack's father.

"Mae…"

"I have to go." With wavering steps, I backed away from Rocco. Away from his presence, the outside air was surprisingly cool.

"You should come to the funeral." Rocco straightened up slightly. "I know my father always liked you."

"He scared me," I replied.

"He scared everyone. That's why the town was so safe."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. What an odd thing to say. "I'll think about it."

"Please, do." Rocco nodded once, and finally, those plush lips pulled into the warm smile I remembered so clearly. It was enough to make my legs weak, and I forced myself to turn and walk away.

"You look as beautiful as I remember you, Mae," Rocco called. An enticing, shy warmth enveloped me as I stumbled away, focusing only on making it back to my car.

He thought I was beautiful. After all these years.

No, I couldn't focus on that.

The last thing I needed was to make this trip anymore more complicated by getting involved with the asshole who ditched me.

Family emergency? What a weak excuse.

What kind of emergency kept someone busy for seven years?