Soaring (Magdalene #2)(63)
Author: Kristen Ashley

He shook his head not taking his eyes from me. “I’m here askin’ you to give me a shot at explaining that fucked up shit I spewed last night.”

“I’m not an imbecile, Mickey,” I informed him instantly. “You explained it pretty clearly last night. You had a wife who you loved who did something you couldn’t control. It was a betrayal against you and your kids, as sure as if she’d gone out and slept with an entire army. Being a man’s man, a protective man, possibly a good man, it hurt you that you couldn’t give her what she needed. I suspect you could handle that, but she hurt your kids and keeps doing it. You’re now forced to tolerate that, even as it’s intolerable. And being a man’s man, you’re not about to put yourself or your kids in the same position with another woman. Do I have that right?”

“That about sums it up,” he confirmed.

“I do believe we decided that was where we stood last night so I have to admit to some confusion about why you’re here today,” I remarked.

“Because I fucked up last night,” he returned.

“You’re right. You did. And it’s done. I still don’t understand why we aren’t moving on…separately.”

He made as if to move to me but stopped when he saw my body lock.

His expression went as gentle as his voice, and with that look on his features, that was a sight to see.

It also didn’t work on me.

“I’d like a chance to fix it, baby,” he said softly.

“No,” I returned firmly. “You see, in three months, you’ve made me feel unattractive, undesirable, unwanted, unneeded and it took two decades for Conrad to make me feel all that.” I fought past his flinch, a flinch even as much as he hurt me I felt right to the heart of me, and concluded, “I’m not yearning for more, Mickey. So why don’t we just let what never was really anything be just that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he declared.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I can’t do that,” he answered.

“Why?” I snapped.

“Because we both want more.”

“We did,” I confirmed. “Now I don’t.”

“We got something, Amy,” he returned.

“Wrong,” I retorted. “We might have but then we didn’t.”

His jaw got hard as his patience started waning. “You know that’s bullshit. There’s something here. Something strong. Something I tried to fight but couldn’t. Something that draws us to each other. Something we’re both old enough and smart enough not to ignore. And there’s something you don’t even know that makes it more.”

Twenty-four hours ago I would have loved knowing he thought that.

Right then, I wouldn’t allow myself to.

“This might have been true but it no longer is, Mickey,” I replied. “And since you aren’t catching my hint, I’ll say it straight. I don’t wish to discuss any further what we might have had when in future we won’t be having anything.”

“You’re not the only one with a legacy, Amy,” he shot at me, patience definitely waning. “That fishing company my brothers run is Maine Fresh Maritime. The fillets and fish sticks you can find in the green, white and orange box in your local grocer’s freezer.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “That’s why my dad could drop a shit ton on selling his house to me because that was part…part of my inheritance. I coulda been a part of that but I didn’t want a desk job. I wanted to fight fires. I wanted to stay in Magdalene. I wanted nothin’ but that and eventually a wife and kids sittin’ around a dinner table. I tried to work the boats, take my stake of that legacy in a way that worked for me. Found bein’ on a boat for weeks cut into my time chasin’ skirt while also lookin’ for a wife. So I quit and volunteered doin’ what I love to do and found a way to have a life, and when the time came, take care of my family.” His eyes moved to the nursing home then back to me, doing this to hammer his point home but he also did it verbally. “You get that, Amy?”

This heretofore unknown parallel of our lives was shocking.

And enthralling.

I obviously didn’t share I thought that with Mickey, but he didn’t give me a chance to because he wasn’t finished speaking.

“I could go to Bar Harbor and walk into Frank’s office, ask for a job, get it and make ten times more than I do right now just for bein’ his brother. That’s my choice not to do that. That’s my choice not to give my kids what they could get outta that. You made another choice that’s different, but it’s yours. Though, don’t think I know a single soul who might come close to getting me and my choices, except you.”

“This is true, Mickey, I get you. But that doesn’t mean one thing. That’s impressive. Maine Fresh Maritime, very impressive. But I have three trust funds that I’m not turning my back on because I like the way I live and I’m not going to be made to feel less because I do or be judged because I do or feel pressured to be anything but what I am.”

“That’s not my point, Amy.”

“I’m not sure I care to understand your point, Mickey.”

“Tough, ’cause you’re going to.”

I rolled my eyes to the heavens and asked the clouds, “Why is that not surprising?”

“Babe, my point is, you got that, you live the way you want, and still you got it right about the only thing you need to be happy. And it isn’t those trust funds.”

I rolled my eyes back to him and narrowed them. “Don’t you dare use my killshot of last night against me, Mickey Donovan,” I spat.

Clearly coming to the end of his patience, he leaned toward me and bit back, “I’m usin’ it to point out, last night your aim was true.”

I threw out my hands and looked back to the heavens, crying, “Well hallelujah! I can die happy.”

My gaze shot back to him when he asked irritably, “Why is it when you’re a smartass I wanna fuck you more than I normally wanna fuck you?”

“You wanna fuck me?” I asked back, injecting these words with deep disbelief. “Shocker considering I’m…” I paused and leaned into him, “Attractive.”

His brows snapped together. “Wouldn’t wanna fuck a woman who wasn’t, Amy.”

I glared at him. “Fascinating, since you didn’t want me until I got highlights.”