No Take Backs (6 page)

You’re mine.

That makes this our battle.

I choke on a sob as Beck’s strong hand lands
on my shoulder. “He’ll be here. I’m his only way off this island
and my ass isn’t taking him anywhere.”

I nod and take a deep breath before getting
in the cart. “Let’s get out of here.”

“He’s met his match. I think you might be
even more stubborn that he is.”

Beck and I are quiet all the way to the
Atlanta airport. He helps me inside the terminal with my suitcase,
and we arrange for him to pick me up at eight the next morning.

A man in a black suit stands outside the
door holding a sign with my name on it. I follow him to a black
S.U.V. He opens the door, and I slide in. Two men are already
inside. An older man in the front passenger seat, and a younger man
beside me.

Both look like you.

Exactly like you.

I stare at the young man sitting beside me
and cover my mouth with my hands. “Oh my God.”

The older man, your father, reaches back and
pats my shoulder. “Now you see what I mean by protecting my
family’s interests. He won’t be left with nothing. It’s his
inheritance.”

“But, Merrick doesn’t know. He would ̶ ”

“You don’t know what he would do, Rachael.”
Your father’s hair, wavy like yours, is mostly a dark, steel gray.
He’s not as broad as you, but might have been once. His presence is
intimidating. “The man you know and the man I know are different
beings. Yours would embrace this young man beside you, but mine
would not.”

The driver gets in and pulls out of the
airport lot. I can’t keep my eyes off of the man who could be your
younger twin sitting beside me. “What’s your name?” I ask him.

“M.J.” He holds out a hand to shake mine.
“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

This has to be a dream, or maybe it’s a
nightmare.

“We’ll have a late dinner and get to know
each other,” your father says. “I don’t have anything else to tell
you, Rachael. I only wanted you to see him for yourself. It’s time
Merrick knows. I hope you can help break the news.”

Coward. He’s too afraid to tell you
himself.

“He’ll take it better coming from you,” he
says, as if reading my mind.

“I’m sure he’ll be very happy regardless,” I
say, smiling at M.J. “He should’ve known all along.”

“It wasn’t possible,” your father says. “I
couldn’t breathe a word until he was eighteen. By then Merrick and
I had fallen so far apart there wasn’t a way to tell him.”

“Heidi knows.”

“She knows,” M.J. says, smiling. The
dimples. I’m speechless. “So does Roger, but not Holly or Sam. I’ve
only seen pictures of them.”

“You can meet them!” I lean forward and put
a hand on his knee. “Come back with me. They’re at the hotel.
They’re staying for a week.”

He takes a shaky breath and his smile
falters. “Maybe.”

I nod, understanding he needs time to think
about this. My offer was too sudden, and again, you would say I
should’ve talked with you first.

You’re never going to believe this.

We pull into a circular driveway flanked by
brick pillars and a high gate. Large trees reach over the S.U.V.
with thin, angled branches. We stop in front of a grand, historic
Tutor-style house with a sloping roof and many-paneled windows.

Your father opens my door while the driver
gets my bag out of the back. M.J. comes around beside me. “How old
are you?” he asks.

I’m closer to his twenty-years than your
thirty-two. “Twenty-five.”

“I thought we were close in age.” He’s tall
like you, but with lean, defined muscles like a runner instead of
your brawn. You probably looked exactly like him twelve years
ago.

My phone chimes with a text.

“Excuse me,” I say, stepping to the side of
the front door and digging in my bag for my phone.

I grasp it in the very bottom among lipstick
tubes and pens and pull it out, praying it’s from you.

It’s not. It’s Beck.

I’m sorry. He threatened to fire me.

My hand shakes. You left Turtle Tear?

Thanks for telling me.

You can’t leave me.

I choke on a sob, and dial your number. It
goes to voicemail. I hang up. I don’t know what I can say. I can’t
give you details, but I have to smooth things over somehow.

I hit the send message button and start to
text you.

Beck said you left.

I swallow hard trying to think of a way to
prepare you and remain guarded at the same time.

You have to come back. I’m bringing back
something. Something that belongs to you.

I hit send and sit on the stoop with my head
in my hands. How could you leave me after everything we’ve been
through. How could me being here be worse than what you did to
me?

This isn’t fair.

“Are you okay?” M.J. sits beside me and
stretches his long legs. “This can’t be easy for you. I asked my
grandfather to let me handle this, but he insisted he knows best.”
He frowns, picks up a rock and throws it across the driveway.

“I’m okay. Just…sorting everything out.”

You told me about your first time with a
girl. She was your babysitter when you were twelve. She was fifteen
and neither one of you had enough sense and zero experience to know
to use protection.

And your dad said he took care of it.

I guess he did.

I nudge my knee against his. “M.J., huh? The
“J” stands for junior?”

He presses his knuckles to his mouth, then
drops his hand. “Yeah. Guess so.”

My phone chimes. You’ve answered me.

There’s nothing you can bring me that I
want. You can’t turn back time.

You’re wrong.

What if I can?

A few minutes go by, and I’m digging my
nails into the concrete hoping you’ll text back when I get your
message.

What are you talking about?

I glance at M.J., stare into his dark black
eyes rimmed with thick lashes. There’s no easing into this.

I’m bringing home Merrick Rocha Jr., your
twenty-year-old son.

I wait and wait for a response.

It never comes.

~~~

While not sitting at her laptop writing
romance novels or procrastinating on Pinterest, Twitter and
Facebook, Kelli Maine can be found avoiding laundry, waging war
with a dishwasher, strategically planning her vacation requests to
get the most time off, and convincing herself she doesn’t really
want that dark chocolate Godiva bar.

Kelli loves hearing from readers! Find
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http://www.kellimaine.blogspot.com
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