Page 8 of Homecoming Heartbreaker

He mentally tested a few sentences and when none of them felt right, he settled for simple. “I’m sorry I left you without saying goodbye, Molly.”

She didn’t respond for a long time and when she finally looked at him, he saw one raised eyebrow, a sure sign of her displeasure.

“That’s it? One measly sorry?”

Mack lifted his hands, knowing he was on unstable ground. He recognized the temper in Molly’s eyes; it burned as brightly as it did the day her brothers put a frog down the back of her dress.

“So no apology for not contacting me to let me know that you were okay? No sorry for not giving me an explanation, for dropping me from your life, for treating me like I was disposable? We were friends first, Mack! You don’t treat people like you did but you especially don’t treat your oldest friend like that!”

A wave of shame, hot and acidic, broke over him, and Mack closed his eyes, wishing he were anywhere but here. He wanted to be back in Nashville, in his office, or at one of his many breweries, talking about dry hopping and fermentation, yeasts and yields. He didn’t want to be here, doing this.

Mostly because she was right. He’d treated her badly and his only excuse, if there was one to be had, was that he felt that he didn’t deserve her; he didn’t deserve anything good in his life. Giving her up had been one more way to punish himself.

It had also been a way to take back control. Love, in all its forms, was uncontrollable.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” What else could he say?

Molly turned slowly and her direct gaze pinned him to the chair. “But you’re not apologizing for leaving me alone, for running, for not having the decency to say goodbye face-to-face.”

He couldn’t tell her that if he’d done that then he wouldn’t have left. If she’d asked him to stay, he would’ve because he’d loved her so damn much.

He’d failed his brothers and father. He didn’t deserve her love, to have a family. It was far, far easier to be alone.

That was a truth he freely admitted, but only to himself.

Molly slid her hands into the pockets of her black pants, her expression remote. She nodded to the door. “I’m sure you want to unpack, get settled. While you do that, I’ll get a housekeeper to dust and air Jameson’s office, which, as you know, is right next door. It hasn’t been used for a few weeks.”

Subject closed, Mack thought. Thank God.

Mack nodded. “Thanks, M.”

Mack winced at her old nickname. Jameson used to call them M&M when they were very young and the name stuck. But they weren’t eight and seven anymore, and if he was going to work with Molly, he needed to keep things professional.

Before she could lambaste him for being overfamiliar, Mack changed the subject. “When Jameson wakes up, I will talk to him about him firing his nurses.”

Molly looked skeptical. “And you think that will help?”

His dad was as hardheaded as a concrete block so...no. Not really. “I can only try. Maybe he has an idea of whom he wants to nurse him.”

“Yeah, right.” Molly’s expression suggested he was grasping at straws.

“I’ll make a plan.” He was very, very good at getting what he wanted. When he had a goal in mind, it took a nuclear missile strike to knock him off course. It was how he built up a chain of indie breweries and gastropubs, becoming a millionaire by the time he was thirty.

He was single-minded and ruthless and had tunnel vision. Very little was of importance to him outside his work.

Molly had once been everything he ever wanted, desired or craved. And a part of him was terrified that if he allowed his guard to fall, even a little, she would become important to him again.

Not happening, not ever again. Control. He needed to find it. And hold on to it.

“Once you find him full-time help you could move into one of the lakeside cottages if you want to.”

Mack stared at her, noticing the blue stripes beneath her lovely eyes. She was tired and more than a little stressed. He knew she loved Jameson and was worried about him, but he was on the mend. The hotel might be teetering but it wasn’t about to go under. And even if it was, Molly had to know that, between them, he and his brothers would, and could, inject a healthy amount of cash to keep it going.

So what was really worrying her?

And why did he care?

Mack rubbed the back of his head and considered her question. The cottages were pretty, had awesome views but weren’t private. “No, I don’t want to bump into any of the guests. Any other options?”

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