Worth the Fall (The McKinney Brothers, #1)(54)

“Maybe Matt could—”

“Don’t even say it.”

“Okay, but a woman should not have a baby alone.”

“Angie—“

“Okay. I’ll drop it. Want to tell me what he’s like in bed?”

Abby had to laugh at her friend’s efforts. Of course Angie had weaseled the information out of her regarding Matt’s visit. And no way could she lie when Angie had asked Did you do it? “Angie, you know I’m not going to tell you that.” But now she’d be thinking about it. Constantly.

“Never mind. I don’t want to know. It might ruin me forever.”

It might ruin her. Being with Matt was like nothing she’d ever known. Maybe no one had ever known.

“So, when are you going to see him again?”

I’m coming back.

“Abby?”

“I don’t know. He said he was coming back, but…I’m starting to think that it’s not such a good idea.” Even if he came back, she was setting herself up for heartbreak. Because it wouldn’t last, would it? And she’d known from the very first day he could break her.

Angie made a loud frustrated sound. “You are so lucky I can’t slap you through the phone lines. Are you insane?”

Abby concentrated on arranging the shampoo bottles just so. “No.”

“You should have heard yourself the first time I talked to you after Matt’s visit. I could practically feel the glow. You were happy. The kids were happy.”

That’s right. They had been happy. “I don’t want them getting attached.”

“That’s a load of crap if I ever heard it. And from what I saw, those kids were already attached and didn’t seem too concerned about the future. Unless of course that’s what you’re trying to teach them. You know, not to get too happy so they don’t get hurt down the line.”

“That’s not it. I’m—”

“Are you worried about the kids or yourself?”

Abby didn’t answer.

“Everything in life’s a chance. Nothing is a sure thing. People die, they leave, they change. Joe could go through a midlife crisis next week. He could quit his job, buy a motorcycle, and ride off with a stripper.”

Angie laughed and Abby tried to join her but pictured herself reaching for a ball on the water. Straining and stretching, and each time she grazed it with her fingertips it went spinning away. People had spun away from her all her life and she’d learned at an early age that if you reach too far you might fall in.

She didn’t want to fall anymore.

“You have no choice but to go through life and take whatever comes. Good or bad. You’ve had so much bad, honey. I don’t want to see you run away from something that could be good.”

Angie was right. She was afraid to take a chance.

“I want you to promise me something. Promise me you’ll give Matt a chance. That you won’t push him away just because you’re scared.”

Abby held her breath. She didn’t know if she could make that kind of promise.

“You of all people shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m not talking about the kids.” Angie made an exasperated sound. “You’re practically made of love, Abby, and you need someone besides the kids to shower it on.”

Abby fought against stinging tears. “That’s kind of deep, Ang.”

“Don’t make fun when I’m having a smart moment. Most of my brain cells were fried during childbirth.”

Her voice changed to the gentle mother. “You’re soft, Abby. You pretend to be hard, but you’re not. Now, come on. Make your promise so I can go feed my lions.”

Abby released a long, tired breath. “Okay. Fine. I promise.” She’d have to try that much harder not to get attached herself.

They ended the call and she switched into bedtime mode. Pajamas on. Teeth brushed. Story read. The only thing left was prayers.

They all knelt down at the side of Jack’s bed. “Okay, Jack. You want to start?” His room, his turn to go first.

“Dear God, thank you for everything I like. Thank you for turtles. Thank you for Matt seeing my first football game and for letting me be awesome.”

Abby snapped her eyes open. “Jack?”

“I’m not done.”

“Well, let’s pause a second. Honey, Matt’s not coming to your football game.”

“Yes, he is.”

“No, baby, he’s not. He has an impor—” Was she really about to say he had an important job? How many times had her kids heard that excuse?

Jack looked at her, his eyes so full of all the hope and faith and confidence she’d never possessed. “He is. He told me.”

“When did he tell you—”

“He’s coming to see me too,” Gracie added emphatically.

“Jack, when?” She hated the sound of her voice, but she was close to the edge here.

Jack’s bottom lip came out. “A long time ago. Right after he came here and left. He called and I talked to him and then you talked to him. He said he would.”

“Okay, baby, but people don’t always—”

“I hope he doesn’t come,” Annie said, barely above a whisper.