Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

Gage took a sip and pressed his lips together. “I didn’t go down to see what was happening because my dad had been so dismissive, and I didn’t find out till the next morning that Chestnut had died and her calf was stillborn.”

“Oh, no,” Maeve whispered.

“For a long time, my dad hardly looked at me, but things finally started to get better between us the following summer,” he continued. “I’d been accepted to SCAD and Cale was home—which always put him in a good mood. But then, later that summer, Cale was helping my dad pull a tractor out of the mud, and the chain they were using snapped, ricocheted around like a whip, and hit Cale in the chest.” Gage put down his glass and rubbed his eyes with his palms. “He died instantly.”

Maeve blinked back tears. Even though she knew this from the news clipping, she didn’t know everything that had transpired between Gage and his father. “I’m really sorry,” she said softly.

“After the accident, my dad was despondent, and it seemed like he and I were back at square one. We were both grieving, but I also began to think he wished it was me helping him that day instead of Cale. Cale loved the farm—he was the one who really wanted to take it over one day. But after the accident, that would never happen. I don’t know if my dad wished it had been me instead of Cale, but it sure felt that way.” Gage closed his eyes and fell silent, the whiskey making his thoughts swirl around in his head like a summer storm.

“I’m so sorry all that happened,” Maeve said. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Me, too,” Gage said softly. “I’m sorry because . . . honestly, Maeve, I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Maeve frowned, uncertain if she’d heard him right. “Wait. What?” she said. She shook her head as fresh tears filled her eyes. “You mean us?”

Gage nodded. “I mean us. I love you more than you’ll ever know, Maeve, but after all we’ve been through, and done together . . . through all the times we’ve been intimate . . . wrapped up in each other . . . you never said anything. I trusted you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone . . . and . . .” He shook his head. “It’s just different now.”

Maeve stared into the darkness, her vision blurred by her tears.

38

“NO ONE’S EVER SLEPT IN HERE,” MACEY SAID, FLUFFING THE PILLOWS ON the guest room bed, “except, maybe, Big Mac or Keeper. . . . Keep’s old bed is in here.”

“I probably won’t sleep, either,” Maeve said, sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed from crying. She still couldn’t believe everything that had happened—from finding Mason to losing Gage. It was all so unreal . . . so unfathomable, and as new tears filled her eyes for the umpteenth time, her sister sat down and pulled her close. “My heart is just a big ache,” she whispered, using the phrase they both used when they felt sad, beginning way back when their grandmother, Grandy, had died.

“He’ll come around,” Macey whispered softly. “Every relationship has ups and downs, and this is just a down. If it’s meant to be, you’ll get through it. Just remember, you didn’t tell me, either—which I can’t believe, but I still love you.”

“I know. . . . I’m sorry, Mace,” Maeve said, shaking her head, “but I don’t know if he’ll come around. He was so adamant, and said he would leave if I didn’t, but he’d had so much to drink, I couldn’t let him be the one to leave. Not to mention, it’s his cabin.”

“Well, that there is probably a big part of the problem. He might not have been so irrational if he wasn’t drinking. You know,” she teased gently, handing her sister a tissue, “drinking and poor decision making are very often partners in crime.”

“You’re not kidding,” Maeve said, wiping her eyes.

“So tell me more about Mason. . . . And by the way, did his adoptive mom give him that name?”

“She did.”

“Do you realize it might be a tribute to you? Mae’s son?”

Maeve smiled through her tears. “I didn’t think of that.” She shook her head. “But it would be just like her. I only met her that one time, but she was such a sweet woman—and she did such a good job raising him. I can’t believe she died. He must be so heartbroken.”

“How old was she?”

“Midforties.”

“That’s really sad. How did he seem to be handling it?”

“He seemed okay. It’s been a few weeks, so he’s had some time to adjust, but I’m sure he must get overwhelmed at times—how could he not? It was just the two of them.”

Macey nodded, listening and letting her little sister process all her emotions out loud. She knew talking was often the best way to deal with trauma, and Maeve had definitely had her share of trauma—and drama—that day.

“Mace, you should see him—he’s so tall and handsome and polite. I can’t wait for you to meet him. I can hardly believe he’s part of me.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Macey said. “When do you think that might happen?”

“I tried to get him to come to dinner, but he’s definitely wiser than me because he suggested I tell you first . . . and he was right. Dad seemed to have a hard time absorbing everything, but Mom—she was too funny—the way she wanted to help him shop for college supplies.” Maeve shook her head. “Dad will love his car, though . . . when he gets to see it.” Maeve suddenly felt tears filling her eyes again. “Mace, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stop crying?”

“Oh, Maeve,” Macey said, pulling her close again and resting her chin on top of her sister’s head. “You’re tired and you’ve been through a lot—you’ve had two huge monkey wrenches thrown into your life today, not to mention, you’ve been thrown out of your home.”

“At least Gage opened up, finally,” Maeve said with a wry smile. “You know what they say—there’s truth in wine . . . or,