Page 127 of These Pucking Boys: Part Two

I shake my head. “She’s not ready.”

“We won’t know until we ask,” Lachy chimes in.

“We haven’t even convinced her to move in with us yet,” I retort.

Whenever June is not taking care of Mrs. Carpenter’s pets, she spends her time in our apartment. But every time we bring up the topic of her moving in with us, she changes the subject. I know she loves us, but maybe she needs more time. She’s had too many life-altering moments lately.

Lachy and Ryan each make a face, but neither comments. They know I’m right. “Have you made a decision yet about meeting your grandmother?” I ask Lachy to change the subject.

“Alleged grandmother, and no, I haven’t.” His expression shuts down completely, and that’s my cue to back off.

He hasn’t said much about the woman who claimed she was related to him. Just like June, Lachy needs time to process this new development. We can’t pressure him into talking about it.

I focus on getting dressed, but after a moment, I notice that Ryan is frozen, looking at his phone. “Is something wrong?” I ask.

He looks up, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears and anguish. My stomach churns. Whatever it is, it’s not good news.

“I got a message from Cory. My mother is gone.”

CHAPTER 52

RYAN

I’ve been operating in a state of numbness for the past few days. If it weren’t for June, Lachy, and Jake helping me through one of the most difficult moments of my life, I would have fallen apart. We drove to San Diego on the evening I got the news. Cory and Mackenzie were a fucking mess, and seeing them so broken made my remorse double. I should have done more, maybe visited more often, despite the chaos in my life.

The evening before the funeral, I slip out of our hotel suite and head to the bar. I need to be alone. June and the guys won’t let me feel guilty, but I think that’s exactly what I need.

I’m wearing a hat, and I haven’t bothered shaving in a few days. I hope no one recognizes me. I can’t deal with fans. I usually sit at the bar when I’m by myself, but I’m in no mood to chat with strangers, so I pick a corner booth and hide in the shadows.

I’m well into my third drink well I hear a woman tell someone to back off. I slide over in my seat to take a peek. Son of a bitch. It’s Mackenzie, arguing with a man who’s clearly invading her personal space. I get out of my booth and march toward them.

“Get the fuck away from my sister before I make you,” I tell the douche.

The guy looks at me with glazed eyes. Fucking drunk. “Chill. I was just talking with her.”

“Oh, I’m not chill, I’m ice cold... and that’s when I do the most damage.” I take a step toward the guy, and he balks.

“Jesus, relax man, I’m going.” He turns around and staggers back to his table.

“Are you okay?” the bartender asks Mackenzie.

“She is now, no thanks to you,” I retort.

“I was getting ready to call security, man. And nothing happened.”

“I’m fine,” Mackenzie grits out.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

She looks at her drink. “What do you think? I came to talk to you.”

My brows shoot up. “How did you know I was at the hotel bar?”

She turns to me. “I didn’t. I chickened out when I got here, so I figured I could use a bit of encouragement.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you even legal to drink?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago, asshole. Not that you care.”

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