Never Say Never Again Read online

She stepped from around his grasp and had to force herself not to run toward her car, the few tears she had been helpless to stop now a raging flood.

  13

  THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, everything was just as it should be around the McCoy place. At least for appearance’s sake, it was.

  Many things had changed since that fateful day when the main house was swarmed by state highway patrolmen. Yet everything remained the same. Connor clutched his coffee cup and leaned against the long length of wood fence Mitch had erected to contain his growing breeding venture. While spring was still very much in evidence in the profusion of wildflowers sprinkling the pasture with vivid color, the unseasonably warm morning gave a peek at what the coming summer would bring.

  He glanced toward the northeast corner of the land as though, if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to make out his grandparents’ old place…now his place. But, of course, he couldn’t. It was set too far away, and a large, old standing of trees blocked this tract of land from that one.

  He didn’t want to consider exactly why he’d decided to close up his place in the city and move out here. He knew part of the reason was his long discussion with Bronte. But to think about Bronte was to invite back a pain that startled him with its intensity.

  So he merely looked forward—to the plans he had for the old house. From the way it was beginning to shape up already, he estimated it would look pretty good three months from now.

  He’d yet to return to work. Oh, he’d stopped by the office, mainly to establish that there was no bad blood between him and his co-workers and superiors. But when Newton offered him an extended leave with pay as compensation for all he’d gone through, he’d surprised them and himself by taking him up on it.

  What remained was what he planned to do with the leave. Initially he’d thought he’d go crazy with so much time on his hands and nothing much to do with it. But aside from those long hours between dusk and dawn, when images of a certain sexy redhead haunted him, and he’d awaken from a fitful sleep thinking she was there with him, things had gone pretty well so far.

  A strident curse bridged the gap between him and where the rest of the McCoy gang was tying off the support beams of the old, hulking barn that still stood on the front corner of the land. Connor squinted against the sun, watching as Marc wildly shook his hand, as though he’d either hit it with a hammer or caught one helluva splinter. Goliath ran circles around him, barking up a storm. Connor found himself grinning at the sight.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened last week in regards to his feelings toward his family, but he was aware of an inexplicable shift. He no longer felt…responsible, somehow, for them. He didn’t jump when something happened, ready to take on the world and their problems.

  Now… Well, now he simply felt a part of the family. No wiser, no more accountable, than each and every one of them.

  He was pretty positive a psychologist might point to their coming to his aid, helping him when he’d never needed their help before. That rather than being the caretaker, he’d been the one in need of aid, and they had readily stepped in to fill the gap. Or it might have come as a result of Bronte’s parting speech. But with that shift of power came a liberation of sorts. He didn’t feel that he had to be perfect anymore. The role model to hold up to them to show them how it should be done. For the first time in his life, he felt free to make mistakes, to rush into projects—like that old house—without considering what the others might think, or what might happen if he failed.

  Of course, the one person he did regret failing was Bronte.

  He absently rubbed at his chest, imagining he could feel the hole in there made by her absence. How was it that in such a short amount of time one woman could worm her way into his heart so easily when others had fallen well short of the mark?

  Then again, Bronte wasn’t just any woman. She was a courageous, clever, sassy woman who knew her mind and held no fear of speaking it. She challenged him like no other woman before her.

  And made him feel like no one else would again.

  “I think you have it about right.”

  Connor glanced to where his newest sister-in-law, Kelli, had climbed up on the fence next to him, eyeing the others in their bid to tear down the old barn.

  She nodded at them. “The safest place is right here.” She smiled. “Do you think they know what they’re doing?”

  Connor found himself grinning back at her. She was a spit-fire, this one—capable, pretty, and every bit a match for his youngest brother, David.

  He caught himself up short. Since when had he stopped looking at his sisters-in-law as the enemy? He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that it felt good just to sit back and enjoy them for what they were. And that was part of the new McCoys.

  “Nope. I don’t think they have a clue.”

  She tucked a strand of blond hair that had escaped from her braid behind her ear. “I told them they should have called one of those wrecking companies. Have them come out with a ball and bulldozer. But did they listen to me? No.” She drew the word out in a gently teasing tone. “They’ll be lucky if they don’t hurt themselves, much less kill each other.”

  Connor chuckled. “Welcome to the McCoy family.”

  She slowly turned her head to look at him, an odd expression on her face.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I always thought you hated that your brothers got married.” She caught her feet on the bottom rail. “Initially, I believed it might be because they beat you to the punch. But I quickly figured out that there are a lot of things we don’t know about you, Connor McCoy. And those things are keeping you from having a healthy relationship with…a woman.”

  He glanced away. There was one thing he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stomach about women. It wasn’t just their innate ability to look straight through you and hit at the heart of the problem with a wooden mallet. It was the way those thoughts moved straight from their brains to their tongues.

  She grimaced. “You know, I promised David I wouldn’t hassle you about this, but…” She sighed. “Well, you and I have been family for only a short time now, and Bronte and I…we’ve been friends, more like sisters really, for a lot longer. Years.”

  Connor felt the incredible urge to move. But he couldn’t budge an inch if he tried.

  “Well, I don’t see a hint of that stone-faced expression yet, so I guess it’s okay if I continue?”

  He nodded slightly, wondering what he was leaving himself open for.

  “Anyway, I don’t know what happened between you two. When it comes to relationships with the opposite sex, Bronte’s as closemouthed as you are. But I did want to tell you that she’s one hell of a woman, Bronte O’Brien. When she makes a commitment, she’s in it for life. No matter what I did during our friendship, she was there, always. Without hesitation. Without judging. She was just there.” She gazed past the others working on the old barn. “And I know that it’s the same with you.”

  “She asks about me?” Connor cringed the moment the words were out.

  Kelli’s smile was knowing. “All the time.”

  He cleared his throat, trying to keep the words in, but helpless to stop them. “And what do you tell her?”

  She shrugged, a decidedly wicked gleam in her eyes. “Oh, that you’re just a stubborn old cuss who’s even more miserable than she is.”

  He felt his brows shoot up to his hairline.

  She laughed. “Just joshing. I don’t say much, really. I did tell her about your moving into the old place on the other side of the McCoy land. She seemed pleased about that.”

  He nodded, knowing she would be pleased.

  Another line of cussing pricked their ears and they looked to see David hopping around on one foot. Kelli leapt from the fence. “I guess that’s my cue to get over there.” She started walking away, brushing her hands on the seat of her jeans, then stopped and turned to look at him. “No matter what she said the othe
r day, if you were to call Bronte, she probably wouldn’t be averse to it. You know, if the thought ever entered your mind or anything.” She smiled. “You’d probably get another earful, though.”

  Connor frowned and looked down at his T-shirt. “I wish it were that easy.”

  She propped her hands on her slender hips. “It is, once you get the hang of it. You pick up the receiver, punch out the number, then, voilà! There’s the other person on the line.” She made an astonished O with her mouth. “Imagine that.”

  Her grin was decidedly playful as she gave him a final wave, then continued walking toward the old barn.

  Connor absently watched her go.

  He wished things were that easy. He wished he could pick up the phone, punch out her number, and talk to Bronte. But he couldn’t. Because Bronte was right. No matter how much had changed in his life, some fundamental things stayed the same. The fact that he never saw himself getting married. And the little issue of his never wanting to have children. He’d spent his life screwing up his brothers’ lives. He couldn’t handle creating brand-new lives to muck up.

  Never.

  The word echoed in his brain as he took a sip of his coffee then grimaced.

  The question was, could he live the rest of his life never seeing Bronte O’Brien again?

  An ominous creaking sounded from the direction of the barn. Connor put down his cup and pushed from the fence, ready to run.

  “Heads up! She’s going to go!” Jake called out.

  Connor watched in gross fascination as Jake, Mitch, Marc and David all scrambled to get as far away from the swaying monstrosity as they could. Connor took a step forward, then froze as the barn chose a direction and collapsed into a pile of faded red kindling just inches away from his brothers’ retreating backs.

  To his surprise, rather than feeling the urge to ream them out for the stupid move that had nearly killed them all, or rushing to their sides to see if they were injured, he did something completely out of character for him. He doubled over and laughed.

  It wasn’t until Marc had rushed up behind him, intent on tackling him to the ground, followed by Jake, then Mitch and David, that he realized just how vocal his laughter had become. And it wasn’t until they were all rolling around in the tall grass wrestling with each other, with the women cheering them on, that he really felt a part of this family, warts and all, and not just a person who was around when they needed them.

  AFTER DINNER, WITH everything else in his life resolved, and feeling at peace with the family, that restlessness that seemed to have all but sunk into his bones resurfaced. Intent on shaking it off, Connor excused himself from the table and stepped into the living room, not stopping until he stood outside his old bedroom upstairs.

  He stared at the words still carved into the wood of the door—Private, Keep Out—then pressed the door inward, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Miniblinds combined with curtains completely blocked out even the slightest bit of light, and most of the day’s heat. Despite the sign of change, he stepped inside, only then remembering that the room was no longer his own.

  The sound of something moving caught his attention. He turned toward where his bed used to stand to find the crib Marc and Melanie had put up in its place, and his three-month-old nephew Sean’s wide blue eyes looking at him curiously, his tiny mouth going to town on his thumb.

  For a moment, Connor forgot where he was. In that one instant, it was all too easy to forget that the infant was his nephew and instead think of him as David.

  Despite the raucous man he had become, the youngest of the McCoys had been a quiet, thoughtful baby. He’d needed very little attention at all, content to lie in his crib and contemplate the world at large with the intelligent eyes of a philosopher.

  But, of course, this wasn’t David. David was now an adult. Not only was he an adult, he was downstairs with his new wife enjoying dessert with the rest of the family.

  Connor dared step a little closer to the crib, curving his hands over the rail and peering more fully inside. Sean’s gaze followed him, his bedding rasping as he moved.

  God, but it was incredible to think that something so small would grow into something so large.

  The baby withdrew his thumb from his mouth with a pop then extended the damp digit out as if for inspection. Connor grinned.

  “No, thank you. I’ve already eaten,” he said quietly.

  The boy continued holding his thumb out, then gave a strident cry. Connor nearly jumped out of his boots.

  It had been a long, long time since he’d looked after an infant. Glancing toward the still-open door, he reached out and plucked Sean up from his cutesy bedding and cuddled him close to his chest. He was surprised at the downy warmth of the child, and how well he seemed to fit against him. After a couple of moments of mutual staring, the infant tucked his head against his chest and recommenced sucking his thumb.

  Connor swallowed thickly.

  “No mistaking that that little guy’s a McCoy, huh?”

  He swiveled to find that he was no longer alone in the room with his nephew, that someone had been witness to his quiet moment with little Sean. And that someone was Pops.

  Unresolved emotion twisted through Connor’s stomach as he moved to put the infant back into the crib. Sean put up a protest unlike any Connor had ever heard and he quickly drew him back to his chest. The baby instantly settled against him again.

  Pops laughed. “With a set of lungs like that, he’s definitely a McCoy.”

  “I was thinking the stubbornness was more of a dead giveaway.”

  Sean stepped farther into the room, switching on a small Winnie the Pooh lamp on a side table. “That, too.”

  Connor gazed down at the infant in his arms, marveling at how light he was. “I was thinking he’s a lot like David. What do you think?”

  Pops was silent for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know.” He met Connor’s gaze. “I was thinking he’s you all over again.”

  Connor’s throat threatened to close. Him? He tightened his grip on the tiny being in his arms.

  Funny, while he could remember when each of his brothers had been this age, he’d never thought of himself as a baby. It was odd considering it now.

  It was also odd realizing that it was nice having a baby around again. And that perhaps his decision not to have any was a poor one indeed.

  Pops sighed. “Oh, yes. Definitely you. You see the way he’s watching me? As if trying to figure out if I’m someone he can trust? That’s an expression I saw in your eyes a lot.” His voice dropped. “An expression I still see.”

  Connor made busy picking up a light blanket and draping it over the baby.

  Pops chuckled quietly. “I remember when Kathryn and I first brought you home. It seemed that overnight the place had transformed from a house into a home.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Up ’til then, I wasn’t sure how I felt about living here. This was your mother’s parents’ place, while I had lived nearly my entire life where you’re staying now.” He shook his head. “But when you were born…well, I learned that it’s not a place that makes a home, but a person and family.”

  Connor wasn’t sure why his father was saying what he was now, but he felt compelled to listen.

  “Look, Connor, I know I haven’t always been the father you would have liked me to be. That there was a time when I forgot that family is what’s important. When your mother died, I felt as though my entire world had collapsed. You boys, the family, that was something Kathryn and I had always dreamed of doing together. With her gone…I no longer knew which way was up. More than that, I honestly didn’t know what to do. I was overwhelmed by the loss.”

  “We needed you,” Connor found himself saying, though minus the vehemence he might have used a week ago.

  “I know. And I’m sorry about that.” Sean looked uncomfortable. As if he wanted to reach out, but didn’t dare. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. You stepped in and took over when I couldn’t. You
kept this family together when I would have let it fall apart. You proved a better father than I could have ever been. I didn’t realize that it was too much weight to place on your narrow shoulders until much later. When it was too late to do much about it. When it was too late to ask you to forgive me.”

  Connor’s throat was so tight, he was afraid he was about to make a noise akin to his nephew’s. “Ask me.”

  Pops’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite hear what Connor said. “Pardon me?”

  He moved his chin from where it rested on top of his nephew’s head. “I said ask me.”

  Sean was quiet for a long moment, then he cleared his throat. The words were so soft, Connor nearly didn’t hear them. “Do you have room in your heart to forgive me, son? To understand that what happened wasn’t because I didn’t love you, or the others. It came about because I hated myself. I’m so very, very sorry. Especially since it appears that as a result of my inability to do what needed to be done, you’re still suffering. Unable to find the love and happiness you deserve. I’m so very, very sorry.”

  Pops hesitantly grasped his shoulders. But when Connor stepped more solidly into his arms, they embraced, little Sean Jonathon between them. For long moments they stood there, the three of them, father, son and grandson, the three generations bound together by love.

  “I forgive you,” Connor said quietly, cupping the back of his father’s head. “I forgive you.”

  They stood like that for long moments. Neither saying anything. Their actions saying a lot. Then the youngest of the McCoy’s sudden inconsolable wails startled both men away from each other. Only after long minutes of rocking, cajoling, and trying everything they possibly could to console the infant did Connor look at his father, and his father look back, and they both broke out laughing.

  Melanie peeked her head around the corner. “What’s going on in here?”

  Connor and Pops turned toward her and shrugged. “Don’t know. We were just passing by and he woke up squalling like a stuck pig.”

  “Oh, now that’s a description,” his sister-in-law said, taking her young son from Connor’s arms and sliding a finger in the leg of his diaper. She wrinkled her nose. “He just needs to be changed, that’s all.” She moved to place the still-crying baby on the changing table. “Are you sure that’s all that happened in here?” she asked, looking at them both a little curiously.