Read an Excerpt
Jake Lonergan wasn't used to having so many people around. For fifteen years, he'd been a loner. Moving from one place to the next, one motorcycle race to the other. He didn't make friends and he didn't contact his family.
Made life simple.
And he probably would have gone on as he was for the next fifteen years if he hadn't gotten word his grandfather, Jeremiah Lonergan, was dying. The old man Jake loved had made only one request: that his three grandsons come home for one last summer together.
Jake had been in Spain when he got word, and it had taken him long enough to get back to Coleville, California, that he'd been afraid Jeremiah would already be dead and buried. That he'd miss his chance to say goodbye.
It wasn't until he arrived that he'd discovered Jeremiah wasn't dying — he was just sneaky. The old man had tricked Jake and his cousins, Sam and Cooper, into coming home to the ranch they'd all avoided for fifteen years.
Jake gave the bolt on the undercarriage of his custom-built, black-and-chrome motorcycle one last turn, then stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back. He glanced out the double barn doors toward the ranch house across the yard. Lamplight pooled from every window and the low murmur of conversations and laughter floated to him on the otherwise still air.
Jake stared at the house for a long minute, feeling, as he always did, like the outsider. His own damn fault, of course. But as that thought slid through his mind, he corrected it firmly.
"Not a fault," he muttered thickly, shifting his gaze away from the house where his family gathered without him, "a choice."
He was here, wasn't he? He'd come back to the place that still haunted his dreams and he'd given his word to stay the rest of the summer. Coming out to the barn didn't mean he was leaving. He'd just needed some time. Some peace. Some space. To think. To figure out what to do.
So he'd left the house, turning his back on the family he was just rediscovering and come out to the barn to work on his bike. It soothed him, tinkering with the engine, making minute adjustments. Always had. He could lose himself in an engine and let the rest of the world drift away.
Jake set the socket wrench back in the toolbox, then tucked the box into the bike's steel saddlebag. He was relieved that Jeremiah was healthy. And it was damn good to see Sam and Cooper again, too. But being back in Coleville was harder than he'd thought it was going to be.
And it had gotten even harder a half hour ago, when Jeremiah had made his grand announcement. Just remembering those quietly spoken words had Jake's blood quickening. He wavered between temper and regret. Feelings he had way too much familiarity with.
His gaze flicked over the dimly lit barn, swept across his motorcycle one last time, and then Jake was moving. He had to move. Couldn't stand still while his brain raced. Couldn't think while memories rushed through his mind, making it hard to breathe.
Shaking his head, Jake stalked out of the barn, turned right and kept walking until he was halfway across the ranch yard. Then he stopped dead, like a man unsure of where to go next. Moonlight shone down from a starlit sky, illuminating the yard and the acres of land that stretched out on either side of the old house.
His mind raced, replaying over and over again Jeremiah's bombshell announcement.
Donna Barrett's back in town — and she's brought Mac's son with her.
Jake started walking again, headed for the rail fence that surrounded the yard and separated it from the fields. When he reached it, he grabbed hold with both hands, and held on tight, as if needing that grip on something solid to keep him balanced.
"Mac's son," he whispered, voice breaking as he let his head fall back and his gaze fix on the distant stars. The rough wood bit into his palms and he welcomed the scrape of discomfort.
Around him, open land lay fallow, the fields empty at this time of year. A mile or more away, golden squares outlined the windows of the home of Jeremiah's closest neighbor. And in the distance, a dog barked.
He inhaled sharply, deeply, drawing the cool night air into lungs that felt squeezed by the tightness of his chest. Heart hammering, he swallowed hard and lowered his gaze to the familiarity of the Lonergan ranch. Jake knew every inch of this place. He'd spent every summer of his childhood on this ranch, running wild with his cousins. Four Lonergan boys looking for trouble, he remembered. Until that last summer.
He couldn't believe this. Fifteen years he'd been gone from Coleville, California. Fifteen years, he'd stayed away from this place, his cousins and the grandfather he loved. Because he hadn't been able to deal with the memories of that one last summer. Now, to find out that there was even more going on back then than he'd thought, was almost too much to take in.
Whether he wanted it or not, the trickle of memories became a flood, filling his mind, his senses, overcoming him before he could stop them. He stared into the surrounding blackness, but saw instead, the past.
Days were long and the sun blazed down from a brassy sky. Summers stretched out forever and there was nothing more to worry about than who won the daily challenge at the lake.
And Jake wasn't even worried about that. He always won. He liked winning. He was good at it.
That last morning, they lined up on the ridge above the ranch lake. The competition was simple. Jumping for distance into the icy cold water, then staying beneath the surface as long as possible.
They took turns, the four Lonergan boys, jumping off the ridge into the water. The contest was not just about distance reached on those jumps, though, it was also about how long you stayed underwater holding your breath.
Jake felt cold rivulets of water streaming from his long hair, rolling down his chest. He squinted into the sunlight glancing off the surface of the lake and watched for air bubbles. Temper seething, he cussed up a storm as he waited for Mac to finish his turn. His jump had matched Jake's, now all that was left was staying underwater longer.
But he wouldn't. Not one of them could hold their breath as long as Jake could.
Damn it.
Sam was worried, kept saying they should go in after Mac, because he'd never stayed down that long.
"Give him another minute, Sam," Cooper said.
"He really wants to beat Jake. And I want him to. Mac's okay. Stop being an old lady."
Jake's temper frothed and every swear word he'd ever learned came pouring from his mouth. He couldn't believe Mac stood a chance of actually beating him. Damn it.
"We'll give him another thirty seconds," Sam said, grinning. "He keeps this up, he's gonna beat Jake's best time."
His fists tightening on the split rail fence sent a jagged sliver of wood into his palm and the sharp pain jolted Jake from his memories. Just as well. Wasn't a day he enjoyed reliving.
Though God knew, he saw it often enough in his dreams.
Emotions churned so quickly inside him that he couldn't even identify them all, but he knew they were strangling him. He half turned and looked back over his shoulder at the house. Lamplight spilled from every window. Through the kitchen curtains, he could see his family, apparently still reeling from Jeremiah's little news flash. Jake probably should have stayed with them, talked this all out. But what was there to say?
They all knew what they had to do. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing to decide.
Mac had a son.
End of story.
Even as he thought that, the back door opened, light sliced through the moonlit shadows and his cousins Sam and Cooper stepped outside. Only took them a moment to spot him and then they were headed toward him.
Jake released his grip on the fence and turned around to lean against the railings. The sting of the sliver nagged at his palm, but he folded his arms over his chest as he waited for his cousins to reach him. A wind kicked dust into the air, blew it around a bit, then set it back down again before moving on.
Jeremiah's new golden retriever puppy, Sheba, shot through the slowly closing back door and scrambled down the short set of steps to the dirt.
She raced after Sam and Cooper and wriggled gleefully when Sam bent down, scooped her up and tucked her into the crook of his arm.
As they came closer, Jake watched their faces, seeing the stamp of familiarity there. The three of them looked a lot alike — their grandmother, Jeremiah's late wife, used to say they all had the "Lonergan look." Dark hair, dark eyes, stubborn jaw and hard heads.
God, Jake had missed these guys.
The cousins had once been as close as brothers. And the fifteen years since he'd seen Sam and Cooper had been the loneliest of his life. Still, he wasn't exactly in the mood to talk. Not even to these two.
"I came out here to be alone," Jake said, though he knew it wouldn't do any good. His cousins would come and go as they pleased. Just as he always did.
"Yeah, well," Sam said, lifting his chin to avoid puppy kisses, "you're not alone. So get used to it."
He didn't think he could.
Alone was better.
Easier.
