“Yeah, I don’t think he got that memo,” Mac replied in his driest voice. He took a deep breath and bit his lip. “If I, and my injury, become a point of contention, I’ll back off. If it means keeping the team out of the clutches of that soul-sucking corporation then I’ll be a silent partner.”
Kade rolled his eyes. “Shut the hell up, McCaskill, you suck as a martyr. You will be back, at full strength, by the time the season starts or I will kick your ass. And I can still do it,” Kade warned him.
“You can try.” Mac stood up and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows. When he turned back to Kade his expression was serious. “We should think of a plan B, just in case I’m not.”
“Rory told me you’ve made excellent progress.”
Mac shrugged. He had, but it would take a lot more work, and he’d keep at it. He’d keep pushing himself but Rory wouldn’t be there to monitor his progress, to keep him in check. The chances were high that he’d push himself too hard and do some serious damage. Or, because he was scared to make the situation worse, he wouldn’t do enough.
Funny how he’d work his ass off for his arm but not for his heart.
Mac jerked at the thought and felt like a million lightbulbs had switched on in his head. Where had that thought come from? Did it really matter? The truth was the truth...and what he was thinking about his arm should apply to his life, as well. He and Rory had started something ten years ago, and because they were young, and dumb, they’d walked away from it not recognizing what it actually was.
A connection, a future, safety. She’d always been what he’d needed, what his soul needed.
Either way, without her, he was screwed. He was screwed anyway; his arm ached, his heart ached. He was thoroughly miserable. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her. He needed to see if she also thought they had something worthwhile, a connection worth working on. There was a good possibility she’d say no but he was willing to take the risk, to do the work. Nothing worth achieving came easy and if he failed, yeah it would suck but he refused to live with regret. He knew what he wanted and was prepared to work his ass off to get it.
He wanted Rory.
And if he failed to win her, he’d survive. He always did.
But he had no intention of failing. Because anything was better than this Rory-shaped emptiness inside him.
He belted toward the door, tossing a “Later” over his shoulder and ignoring the deeply sarcastic “Good chat” that drifted out of Kade’s office.
* * *
Five days after his accident Troy finally opened his eyes. Three hours after that, when he started arguing with his nurse, Rory realized she could leave him. She could go home to her own bed and have a decent night’s sleep. She could spend more than a couple of hours in her apartment, eat something other than fast food, cut down on her coffee.
Leaving Troy and the nurse to bicker, she walked out of his room. Once she was in the hallway, she placed her forearm against the nearest wall and buried her face in the crook of her elbow. Troy was going to be fine. She could stop worrying and start thinking about something other than planning his funeral. Rory felt the tears track down her face and thought how ridiculous it was that she was crying now, when he was finally out of danger, when it was all but over.
Intellectually she knew her reaction was because she could finally relax. She could stop the continuous praying, the bargaining with God. Stupid, but human nature, she thought. Saints alive, she was so tired.
Rory recognized the big hands on her hips and sighed when Mac gently turned her around. Through her tears she noticed his gentle, compassionate expression, the tenderness in his eyes. Even though she was mad at him—he’d certainly taken his time getting here!—she was still ridiculously glad to see him. Her throat tightened as the strength of her tears increased. She felt like she would shatter from the effort it took to not fling herself against his chest and burrow into his warmth.
He took the decision from her by sliding his big hand around the back of her neck and pulling her to his chest. Her arms, shaky with exhaustion, slid around his waist. His other arm held her as her knees buckled.
“It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you,” he said in her ear. “I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go.”
She wished she could believe him but she was so fatigued, so emotionally drained she couldn’t think. All she knew was that Mac was finally here and she could rest. So she did. Rory wasn’t sure how long she stood in his arms. All she knew was that he was strong and solid and there. She wasn’t alone.
When she’d regained some of her equilibrium, she stepped back, dashed a hand against her wet cheeks and stared at his hard chest. “How did you know I was here?” she asked in a brittle voice. Her tears, it seemed, were still very close to the surface.