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Can't Lose Me
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Can't Lose Me
Amanda Torrey
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2016 Amanda Torrey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Chapter One
Mackenzie O’Brien needed to win back her husband, and it wasn’t going to happen in the drab, worn-out jeans and oversized tees she had made her uniform over the last year.
Knowing this, her resolve strengthened as she retrieved her credit card—the one she reserved for emergencies—from her wallet and paid for the new wardrobe her best friend, Sabrina, had helped her select.
“Thata girl,” Sabrina cheered, eyeing the point-of-sale jewelry on the counter. “Get this, too. The emerald will magnify your eyes—not that he’ll be lookin’ at them with that elephant nestled in your cleavage.”
Mackenzie blushed as the woman ringing up her purchases chuckled.
“Ah, someone is on the seduction train.” The petite woman carefully folded the thong panties Sabrina had tossed into Mackenzie’s pile.
Mackenzie wished the floor would open and send her into a different kind of hell. One that would burn less than the embarrassment.
But if she couldn’t handle some gentle teasing from a stranger, how would she find the courage to seduce her husband into loving her again? If she wouldn’t move out of her comfort zone when it came to her clothing, how would she find the courage to beg for his forgiveness?
Purchases final, Mackenzie grabbed the bags and started to her car, imagining Gabe’s reaction when she appeared at his door.
Tomorrow was their seven-year anniversary.
And one year since the day she had walked out.
“Are you absolutely sure he’s not seeing anyone?” Mackenzie needed the extra reassurance from Sabrina, who had been keeping tabs on Gabe in Mackenzie’s absence. Mackenzie had forbidden Sabrina from giving her the updates at first, but now that her mind had cleared she was grateful for the knowledge.
She never would have shown up here again if he had moved on.
“Positive. I’d have heard about it.”
“I don’t know if I should be doing this.”
Sabrina stopped walking and waited for Mackenzie to turn back to her. “Listen, you. When you chose me as your maid-of-honor, you made a promise to me. A promise that I would be able to stand by and watch an epic love story for the rest of my life. Since my own marriage is a total dud, you have to give me something here. Got it?”
Mackenzie frowned and studied the cracked sidewalk and the slushy puddles left over from the last snowfall.
“I wish you could work things out with Chad. Have you tried therapy? It’s really helped me figure some stuff out.”
“Don’t be giving me advice when your solution was to high-tail it out of here. I can’t leave his sorry ass because he’d wither away on the couch and die. But if I can help in even a tiny way to bring you and Gabe back together, the corner of my heart where romance has been archived will jump for joy. Give me some hope, will ya?”
Mackenzie crushed Sabrina in a best friend embrace, squishing her as the clothing bags crinkled.
“I need him, Sabrina. But what if this past year has proven to him that he never needed me?”
“No way would that happen. You get yourself dolled up, do your hair and makeup, make yourself irresistible. He might act pissed off when you show up, but trust me, I work in the psych ward. People use anger to cover their inner desires all the time. You’ve got to hammer your way back into his heart. He’s your one true love and you’re his—it’s literally impossible for him to not need you.”
Mackenzie allowed Sabrina’s words to play over and over again in her head for the rest of the day, all night long while she snuggled in her childhood bed with the kitties she had adopted before coming back to town, and as she choked down her oatmeal the next morning.
Married for seven years.
Together for seven years before that.
Running away for one year couldn’t undo all the love they had. The life they had built together. Could it?
She buried her insecurities, baked a batch of his favorite molasses cookies, worked for over an hour on her hair and make-up, and hurried out of the house before she could change her mind.
***
The house looked the same, right down to the “Welcome To Our Happy Nest” wreath Mackenzie had made when they first bought the house. It was tattered around the edges and the “y” had fallen off the end of “happy,” but he hadn’t burned it in a bonfire.
Maybe there was hope.
His car sat in the driveway, just like she had known it would. He always made sure to be home by five. He had set up the perfect family-raising schedule for himself, anticipating the day when there would be a family.
They had chosen to open a printing business specifically for the promise of family-friendly hours.
She reached for the doorknob, thinking she’d let herself in. Act natural. Like she had never left.
As if about to touch a hot burner, she jerked her hand away from the knob.
Letting herself in would be disrespectful.
Though she hoped he would let her back into his life and their home, she had left it behind. This was his life now, and she had to earn her way back in.
She rang the doorbell, smiling at the birdsong ring she had installed on their fifth anniversary.
Another piece of her he hadn’t changed.
Heavy footsteps ran to the door, pounding on the hardwood floors they had sanded and polished together.
He swung the door open. His hair was longer, his eyes the same dark seas that had swept her away in high school and kept her anchored through everything.
Until she had floated away, unable to see past the storms that had brewed.
She forced her lipstick to take over the show. She had spent hours picking out the perfect shade, and wound up with a satiny peach cashmere that the lady at the counter had sworn went perfectly with her skin-tone.
He didn’t say anything. Not even a simple greeting. She stood there with her push-up bra and her low-cut shirt and her long blonde, freshly curled hair the only barrier between her and the barely-above-freezing temps, smiling like a wannabe cover girl as she stared at his unnatural handsomeness. Realizing the grim state of the picture she presented, she began to squirm.
She should say something.
Anything.
But what was there to say?
Why the heck had she decided to come here?
She licked her desert-dry lips and began to chew the inside of her bottom lip. Sabrina would chastise her for showing her insecurity, but Sabrina wasn’t here and the insecurity monster was in f
ull control.
Gabe leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps bulged through his long-sleeved shirt, and she wondered if he had been working out. He had always been strong and sexy, but there was a harder edge to him.
Words. She needed words.
He broke into a smile—a cheek creasing, eyes twinkling, teeth gleaming smile that made her heart go on strike for a beat before dancing in her chest like a child on a sugar high.
She had worried for nothing. He was going to welcome her back.
She allowed a smile to break past the barrier of self-loathing. Her lips, accustomed to frowning for way too long, seemed confused and began to quiver.
Her emotions began to feel like quicksand, pulling her down and leaving her desperate.
“Oh good, you’re back.”
Did those words really come from his mouth, or were her drowning ears playing tricks on her?
She wanted him to open his arms. To pull her in like he used to. To smell her hair. She had gone back to her old shampoo—the one he loved. She hoped he’d notice, and that his olfactory memory would bring him back to the days when they were happy. When they had lived for each other.
He didn’t open his arms, though. He didn’t smell her hair.
His eyes hardened around his laugh-lined edges as his smile turned taunting.
“Now I can get my divorce.”
Chapter Two
He had changed. And she had, too, judging by the tight pants and the strip-me-naked-and-make-me-scream-on-the-front-porch shirt she wore. Her face looked as young and vulnerable as ever, and the unfortunate shifting of the air had proven that she smelled just as damned comforting as she always had.
Her emotional vulnerability hadn’t changed, judging by the way she ran down his walkway, brushing away tears.
And judging by the way his heart—something he had thought had long ago shriveled up and died a miserable death in his empty chest—shattered in a million pieces, he hadn’t fricking changed, either.
He gripped the doorframe to keep from running after her.
He had tried that once, and it had led to a heartache that still left him sleeping in an empty bed with only his nightmares to keep him company.
Though Kenzie was the only woman he had ever and would ever love, Gabe knew he couldn’t give their love another shot. Her bullet had already lodged in his head.
He remained standing. Walking, breathing, functioning like a semi-normal person.
He was the only one who knew that he was, in fact, dead. Thanks to her.
He had no idea why she had come back to Healing Springs, but he didn’t have enough soul to bother with finding out.
The oven timer buzzed, letting him know his pizza was done cooking. He went through the motions of removing it from the oven and slicing it into quarters, but even though he had been satisfied with this brand of frozen pizza for many months, the damn thing stuck to his teeth and tasted of cardboard.
And he had Kenzie to blame for messing with his senses.
***
“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”
Sabrina tossed her pen across the lunch table, hitting Mackenzie’s arm and making it sting.
“Ouch. Do you have to be so abusive about it?”
“You have been moaning and groaning about missing him for months. I spied on him to be sure he didn’t have anyone new. You uprooted yourself from your new life, adopted a frigging pack of cats, and swore you’d get him to forgive you. And now that you saw him for five minutes and he didn’t welcome you back with the open arms you knew he wouldn’t offer, you’re ready to give it all up?” Sabrina shook her head, clearly disgusted. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Mackenzie hung her head in shame. Sabrina was right. She was no self-respecting woman.
She gave up too quickly.
She had already proven that when she walked out.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.” Mackenzie lowered her head to the table, wishing she could slam it and knock herself unconscious. But since they were in a hospital on Sabrina’s lunch break, Mackenzie wouldn’t get a free pass. There were way too many medical professionals around. She’d be saved.
Too bad there weren’t any heart specialists. Not cardiologists, but the kind of specialist who could implant forgiveness and amputate betrayal.
“You pick your head up, girl. You can’t quit this.”
Mackenzie’s head throbbed, starting in her neck and spreading throughout her entire lovelorn brain. She managed to lift it so her chin rested on the table, her pathetic eyes searching for answers in her friend.
“What do I do?”
“You make a plan.”
And that’s how Mackenzie wound up naked and hiding under Gabe’s sheets, ready to remind him of all they had once shared.
***
Mackenzie ignored the growling of her belly and the nervous nausea that warred with her hunger. She checked the time again. Almost six o’clock. She had been here, naked and dying, since four. He never worked late. And he had never been one to go out after work, either.
Then again, what did she know? He could have changed.
She fought the urge to get up and get dressed. This was a ridiculous plan.
He had been so angry. Smiling, but icy.
He had said the “D” word.
What had she expected? Why wouldn’t he want a divorce, now that he knew where to serve the papers?
Understanding wasn’t the same as accepting.
She had to take this chance to fix things. To make him fall in love with her again.
Because she’d never stop being madly, insanely (maybe psychotically if this latest plan was any indication), in love with him.
And if he found her in his bed like this, he’d definitely believe the psychotic part.
She bolted out of the bed, furious that she had listened to Sabrina’s terrible advice.
As she reached for her panties (dreading the way they’d ride up her butt), the door opened.
Shootshootshootshootshootshoot!
Too late to back out. Too late to get dressed—her nerves had her trembling so viciously she couldn’t balance to get one foot through a leg hole. Too late to salvage her pride.
She jumped into the bed, willing her heart to slow to a reasonable rate.
She had lost her virginity to Gabe all those years ago, and the physical sensations leading up to the occasion were the same.
Clammy skin. Racing heart. Excessive saliva.
Powerful tingling. Everywhere.
Clutching the sheet to her chest, she reminded herself to breathe. This was important. This was her shot.
She had lost her chance to change her mind and back out, so she had to commit to the plan fully. As fully as she had committed several hours ago when she had let herself in with the key he kept hidden by the front door.
This could kill her, but at least the death would be quicker than the slow torture she’d endure if she didn’t try.
His keys clattered as they hit the dish next to the door—the one she had painted for him in a ceramics class for their second anniversary. His boots came off next, landing in a thump on the rubber mat. The rattle of his zipper as his coat was tossed on the back of the loveseat near the entrance made her heart rattle louder.
She couldn’t see him with her eyes, but she could hear and feel him as if he were in the same room.
Which he would soon be.
He always came to his room to change before relaxing on the couch.
She closed her eyes, tensed her muscles, and relaxed them. She could do this. She had been naked in front of him millions of times. This would be no different.
As predicted, he shuffled into the room seconds later. She held her breath as she watched his silhouette move through the room. She should have put a light on.
She had gone from potentially sexy and surprising to downright creepy and stalkerish.
Why the
heck hadn’t she left a light on?
Should she make a noise? Greet him? She didn’t trust her throat to loosen enough for her to squeak out any sounds. Should she clear her throat? What if she scared him?
Unable to reformulate this stupid, stupid plan, she pulled the covers over her head and held her breath, willing him to leave his house so she could slip out unnoticed.
A millisecond later, he whipped the sheet away from her head.
As she struggled to sit up, grabbing the sheet so she could hold it tight across her chest, he flipped the light on.
Her eyebrows felt like they had merged with her hairline as she struggled for something, anything to say. She knew she had to do something seductive. The longer she took to say something, the worse this got.
Sexy naked woman in his bed could be cute. Crying, blushing, stammering naked woman in his bed was desperate.
And pathetic.
He didn’t say a word, just looked at her like she had lost her mind.
Which clearly she had.
How had she won him over in the first place? She had been fifteen. Had no clue about boys. Knew more about books and studying than about how to socialize.
He had been the one to make the moves. Always.
She was out of her element.
But she loved him. Wanted him. Was willing to step out of her skin and leave her heart thumping on the pillow as a sacrifice if he would just consider taking her back.
With that thought, she tossed her hair over her shoulder in what she hoped was a seductive motion. She forced her lips into a pout, softened her eyes, and loosened her grip on the sheet.
“Hello, Gabe.”
Lame, but it was something. And she didn’t have to fake the huskiness in her voice.
“Are you lost?” He cleared his throat, but she didn’t miss the matching husky undertone.
He wanted her.
Armed with this information, she allowed the sheet to slip a tiny bit. Enough to show more of the upper curve of her breast. She leaned over on one elbow so her shoulder jutted out—the shoulder he loved to nibble.