Maggie Moves On(96)
Her chest felt tight, like the stress of responsibility was about to burst out of her rib cage. But an exploded rib cage would set her too far back.
Silas put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Look at me, Mags. You aren’t doing any of this alone. And a family crisis is a privilege because it means you have a family to be in crisis with. Your sister—and don’t give me that bullshit about half-sister—came here because she needs you. That incredibly dirty little boy needs you.”
“I don’t want anyone to need me,” she insisted. She also wasn’t fond of the idea of needing anyone herself.
Keeping Keaton in sight, Silas steered her to the side of the house. He pressed himself against her, and for some reason, his weight calmed her. And that annoyed her.
“I’d like to make it clear that I’m still mad at you.”
“Acknowledged,” Maggie said, trying not to melt into him.
“But being a good boyfriend doesn’t mean only showing up when you’re not pissed off,” he continued. He leaned down to nuzzle at her neck. “Now, I want you to imagine you’re on your deathbed.”
“My deathbed? This went dark fast,” she said, trying to focus on his words instead of on the way his lips moved against her skin.
“You’re the most beautiful hundred-and-five-year-old to ever live,” he said. “Are you going to be patting yourself on the back for getting all your chores done on time or are you going to be wishing you’d given yourself more quality time?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I kind of want to say I’d be patting myself on the back.”
He pulled away and grinned down at her. Maggie’s heart took a funny dip in her chest. It was a completely different feeling from the crushing weight of responsibility from a moment ago.
“God, I’m so into you, Maggie. Even when I’m good and pissed.”
“I’m kind of fond of you, too,” she stammered.
After another glance at Keaton, who was sitting in a puddle of hose water while the dog licked his face and hair, Silas dropped his forehead to hers. “Take the time, darlin’.” His tone was so tender that it made her heart hurt with a want for more. “We can juggle schedules, dates, and to-dos, but you’ve got a sister who needs you and a nephew who wouldn’t mind getting to know his aunt Maggie. You know I’m happy to lend a hand wherever you need me. And Dean and Cody can take over in the areas I’m not equipped to deal with.”
“Like anything involving hashtags?”
“Exactly.”
She took a breath, blew it out slowly, and then rested her head on his chest. That broad, warm, welcoming chest. His heart beat steadily, comfortingly beneath her ear. “Ugh. Okay. But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m holding you responsible.”
“I’d expect nothing less. Now, before you go back in there, call in the reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements?”
“Niri and Kayla. Call ’em up. Your sister needs support, and there’s none better than girlfriends with alcohol.”
“Call Nirina and Kayla. Okay. Got it.”
He released her, and she missed his touch immediately.
“Oh, and, Mags?”
“Yeah?” She knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Pencil me in for that in-depth discussion of why you didn’t feel the need to tell your future husband about your family. Tonight.”
“I might need reinforcements for that conversation,” she said, ignoring the husband bait.
“No, you won’t,” he said mildly. “Now, I’ve got to get out to the job site. So you’re gonna have to clean up our muddy buddy before his mama sees him.”
She started for Keaton but stopped when Silas called her name.
“Maybe you can call it a coincidence that your mama was the first one to bring you here and that your sister showed up here looking for a place in your life. But I see signs.”
35
There was nothing like a baseball stadium on an almost summer night, Silas thought. While the women of the family converged on Maggie’s place with alcohol, snacks, and sympathetic ears, he had organized a gentlemen’s night out. It had started with just him, Cody, and Dean. Then they’d added Wallace to the guest list. When he’d rounded it out with Michael and the dads, Maggie’s sister had given the men permission to take Keaton, as long as Silas promised to text her proof of life every hour on the hour.
So there they sat in two rows of green stadium seats, eating more hot dogs and nachos than was healthy and cheering on the minor league Outlaws. They talked work and women—Cody admitted to maybe kinda sorta having a girlfriend—and rated ballpark food while the home team held a comfortable lead.
Silas had picked up on something, either friction or interest, between Michael and Dean and wanted to see what would happen if they spent a little more time together. At the top of the sixth, he handed Keaton over to Emmett and headed to the restroom. His brother caught up to him at the urinals.
“What’s your problem?” they both said at the same time.
“Me?” Silas asked, breaking rule number one of men’s restrooms and looking his brother in the eye. “You’re the one who’s looking at Dean like he’s a ballpark chili dog one minute and then acting like he’s invisible the next.”