The lawyers’ paperwork had been uneventful, but her presence in the city allowed her to visit the publishers. They showed her samples of the book cover. She and Silas had exchanged a look, both recognizing they hadn’t asked her opinion. The book contained Elijah’s words, but everything else was in someone else’s hands. She told herself his words were all that mattered.
Returning to the lake and retrieving Fred, Cassidy presented the hat with fanfare. Mac raised a dubious brow, his molten eyes incinerating her. Shaking his head in good humor, he accepted it but would not promise her he’d wear it. He turned away from her playful insistence, letting the screen door shut behind him.
She hadn’t expected him to agree, but she enjoyed teasing him, making him laugh.
As the days passed and she watched him live his life the way he always had, not missing a beat—not missingher—she second-guessed her decision. Sure, he still annoyed her at the bar, tossed her looks that had her panties melting, verbally sparred with her, but he also walked out with other women. No backward glances to gauge her reaction. But why would he? He wasn’t hers. He never had been.
Chapter fifty-one
Cassidy
ERES MÍA
Fredwhinedbyherbed, pacing in small spurts, his anxiety breaking through what had been a deep sleep, cemented by the rain that had been falling. His behavior was unusual. Cassidy struggled to come to full awareness, trying to sort out the cause of his alarm. She didn’t smell smoke—she would hope he would have barked if the house was burning. No one wasinthe house because he would be barking. He didn’t need to go outside because his door was unlatched.
Pushing herself up on her arms, she peered through the curtain of her hair at him; blinking away the sleepiness, she asked, “What?”
He barked and took a few steps toward the door, watching her, still impatient. He wanted her to follow.
Sighing, Cassidy sat up, trying to puzzle out his concern. Feinting toward the door, he barked before coming back to the bedside as if he was tempted to grab her hand and drag her after him. “What, Lassie, did Timmy fall down the well?”
Excited, Fred barked twice.
“Fine, Jesus, if you have to pee, I will be so pissed,” she mumbled, stumbling out of bed.
Fred ran out of the room.
Cassidy followed him to the front. It had stopped raining; the moon was peeking through, lighting up the night, making everything glisten in its glow. She scanned the outside as she walked along the windows, trying not to be alarmed, hoping not toseeanything alarming as she walked.
Fred went to the door and looked at it, then stared at her, waiting.
“Seriously?” she asked. “You have your own damn door.”
He paced in place, his nails tapping on the wood floors, brown eyes willing her to open it.
“For Pete’s sake.” She shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and slid it open. He bounded out, then turned toward her expectantly. “What? Go pee.”
He began the same behavior he exhibited in the bedroom, pacing down the patio, then back.
Cassidy watched him, stepping out onto the patio as she tried to figure out what was wrong with her dog. “What the hell, Fred?”
At the sound of his name, he excitedly ran to the end of the patio, waiting for her to catch up. His paws tippy-tapped against the wood.
Cassidy belatedly realized he wasn’t excited: he was distraught. Her gaze raised from him to the trees beyond. “Mac.”
Fred barked twice and bounded off the porch toward the woods, this time not stopping to wait for her.
Cassidy blinked. Adrenaline shot through her as she started running after Fred, leaping off the end of the patio. She was unmindful of the mud splashed on her calves and legs as she ran across the lawn and through the trees. Panic gripping her, she was afraid of what scene she would find on the other side.
Please no, please no, please no.
If Fred was this upset, had Mac done something to himself? He’d said as much on the boat: it was a good day when he woke up. Her heart was seizing; her stomach knotted as she ran;no, Mac, no!
As she cleared the trees by his cabin, she was startled to a halt, slipping in the mud, her arms pinwheeling. Fred and Mac were on the other side of his cabin. Mac’s back was to her but covered in mud. He was crouched, naked, Fred’s snout in Mac’s face; Mac’s hands in Fred’s fur.
The sounds coming to her sounded like crying, hard, rough breathing. It was an unreal scene, an aura of disquiet in the air; the relief of seeing him was replaced with a greater concern.
Fred stood patiently looking into Mac’s face, silently providing support.