“I’m sorry,” Liv whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

Erin returned to the goats, and Mack looked down at her. “He’s been gone since I was fourteen.”

Erin wiped her hands together to get rid of the feed crumbs. “Well, that was fun,” she told the girls, but Liv caught a hitch in her voice. Great. Way to go, Liv. Make things even more awkward at the NOT-meeting-the-parents thing.

“I bet dinner is ready,” Liv said. “Should we head back?”

“I’m starving,” Mack said, adopting that cheesy grin that now seemed lonely somehow. Liv shook her head at the thought. What was wrong with her? She knew what was wrong with her. We gonna talk about that kiss? She’d thought all night about that simple text.

Mack let the girls drag him by the hands back into the house.

“He’s so good with kids,” Erin said, walking next to Liv.

“Ava and Amelia love him.”

“He’s going to be a great father someday.”

Liv stumbled. Erin smiled.

Rosie had the table ready when they walked in. A platter of fried chicken sat in the center, flanked by large bowls of mashed potatoes and a hearty salad.

“This smells amazing,” Erin sighed, taking a seat next to Mack.

“Livvie made a peach cobbler for dessert,” Rosie said.

Mack lifted an eyebrow. “No cupcakes?”

Liv hid her smile behind a glass of lemonade.

Rosie helped Liv fill the girls’ plates and got them settled at their own small table off to the side. When Liv returned to her seat, she found her plate ready and waiting for her. Mack winked.

Conservation was stilted at first. The kind of distant, meaningless chatter people do when they don’t really know one another. But by the time the cobbler was served and more than one glass of wine consumed, tongues were looser.

Erin cradled her chardonnay. “Mack tells me you served in Vietnam,” she said to Hop.

Hop glanced up at Rosie and then nodded. “Two years. Sixty-eight and sixty-nine.”

“My brother was there in 1970.”

“Infantry?” Hop asked.

Erin nodded. “He saw some things that . . . well, he never really talked about.”

Hop took a drink of beer. “None of us do.”

“It took us a while to become close again after he got back.” Erin’s face reflected a long-ago regret. “I protested the war.”

“So did I,” Rosie said.

“I was young, still in high school. I didn’t really understand things the way I thought I did.”

“Time and age have a way of making things make sense,” Hop said.

“I haven’t changed my mind about it, the war,” Erin said. “But, looking back, I wish I had been more sensitive to the difference between the war itself and the soldiers who had to fight it.”

Hop stared at Rosie. “Looking back, I wish I’d done more to understand why some people were so opposed.”

Rosie’s mouth dropped open, her wineglass paused middrink.

Hop shrugged with one shoulder, and he looked at his plate. “Nothing is as simple as we like to think.”

Liv looked across the table at Mack, who was grinning at Hop like the man had just admitted to staying up all night reading Nora Roberts.

A half hour later, Liv walked Erin and Mack out to the car. Erin surprised her with a tight hug. “It was so nice to meet you.”

Liv returned the embrace, averting her eyes to avoid the intense way Mack watched them. Erin then got in the front seat, leaving Liv and Mack alone behind the car.

“Thanks for dinner,” Mack said. “This was fun.”

“Yeah.” Liv hugged her torso.

Mack shuffled an inch closer. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“So,” Liv breathed.

Mack traced his finger down the side of her arm. She shivered and met his eyes.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” he said huskily.

“For what?”

“To talk about it.”

She didn’t exhale until his taillights disappeared.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mack went for a run early the next morning before his mom woke up. When he returned an hour later, the smell of bacon and eggs lured him to the kitchen. His mom looked over her shoulder from the stove. She was dressed and ready to go. Her single suitcase sat by the back door.

Mack swiped his arm across his forehead. “In a hurry?”

“You know I like to get there early.” She turned off the burner beneath the eggs and then nodded toward one of the chairs lining the island. “Sit down. I’ll fix your plate.”

“I should probably take a shower first.”

She made a psh noise. “I used to feed you fresh from football practice, remember?”

Yeah, he did. Until he gave up football so he could get a job instead to help with the bills when his mom had to move to part-time at the library after the . . . the incident.

Erin filled two plates and carried them to the island. “I miss cooking for you,” she said.

Mack dug in. “You can cook for me as much as you want when you move here. I won’t complain.”

She made a noncommittal noise.

Mack looked up from his plate. “What’s wrong? You hoping I’ll hire a personal chef for you?” He was teasing, but mostly to cover his own insecurity. His mom had that cagey look about her again.

Erin set down her fork and let out a long breath. “Braden . . .”

He swallowed hard. “What?”

“Maybe we should put this on hold for a while.”

“Put what on hold?”

“I really do appreciate everything you’re doing with the house search, but . . .”

Mack sat back in his chair. “Just spit it out, Mom.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to move yet.”

Mack blinked several times, set his fork down, and wiped his mouth. Mostly to give himself time to formulate a response that didn’t sound like a temper tantrum. “I don’t understand,” he finally ground out.

“You’ve spent so much time trying to take care of me that you missed the fact that I don’t need to be cared for anymore.”

A line of sweat that had nothing to do with his recent run formed along his brow. “You’re alone there.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, leaning forward. “I have friends, coworkers.”

“But no family.”

“I’m seeing someone.” She let out a quick breath after she said it, as if she’d been building up to that all along and now couldn’t believe she’d finally gotten the words out.

Mack sucked in a breath like he’d been sucker punched. “Who?”

“He’s a very nice man—”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Jason, and he’s a professor at the university.”

“Professor of what?” Not that it mattered, but . . .

“Physics.”

“How’d you meet him?” His voice sounded like his throat was lined with glass.

“Mutual friends.”

Mack picked up his plate and took it to the sink. He scraped his uneaten food into the disposal. “Why didn’t you tell me? Is he the one who sent you flowers?”

“He was, and I didn’t tell you because of the way you’re reacting.”

“How am I reacting?”

“Wounded.”

Mack ignored that. “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Several months.”

“Does Liam know?”

Her pause was all the answer he needed. His brother had fucking lied to him yesterday. Mack whipped around. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He made it ten steps before she stopped him. “Braden, how long are you going to lie about what happened with your father?”

His hands clenched into fists. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Avoiding it doesn’t make it go away.”

“It has worked just fine for me until now.”

“Has it, though?” She walked around to face him. “I want to see you happy and settled.”

“I’d be happy and settled if you’d move here.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

Mack uncurled his fingers. “What does any of this have to do with him?”

She placed her palm in the center of his chest. “Everything.”

Mack shook his head and wiped his hand across his nose.

“You deserve to let this go,” she said, patting his chest. “To be happy.”

Mack sidestepped her and left her standing in the kitchen. He was happy. He was Braden-Fucking-Mack. King of Nashville’s night-life and everyone’s best friend.

The ride to the airport was tense in a way that it hadn’t been between them in a long time.

“You can just drop me at the curb, honey.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “I can walk you into the airport, Mom.”

“You’re mad at me and in a bad mood, and this will be better for both of us.”

“Wow, that eager to get rid of me?” He whipped into an open spot in front of the terminal and shoved the car into park.

“Look at me.”

He obeyed. Briefly.

“I know you’re angry and also a little hurt. I’m sorry for that.”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug and immediately felt like a petulant child for it, but whatever. He was angry. He was hurt.

“I’m doing this for your own good, Braden. It’s time to focus on your life for a while, finally stop worrying about mine.”

Mack jumped out of the car and unloaded her suitcase from the trunk. He met her on the sidewalk on the other side of the car.

“Hey.” She reached up with both hands and cupped his cheeks. “I like her.”

He didn’t bother asking who she meant. Mack liked her too. More than he should.

“She’s good for you,” Erin said, pulling away. “Tell her the truth.”