His heart thumped. “She’ll get over it, especially when she sees how happy you are.”
“I will be,” she whispered, and the look in her eyes promised him a future full of passion and love and laughter. “I absolutely will be.”
Epilogue
Jackson shifted his weight and leaned heavily on his cane. “Did you bring it?”
Nick held a brown paper bag aloft. “Exactly what Mahalia told me to get. Forgot the glasses, though.”
He snorted. “I don’t think any of us have cooties, Nicky.”
Mahalia dropped a hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder and squeezed. “Even if we do, the tequila will make short work of ’em.”
Mackenzie covered Mahalia’s hand with her own. In the weeks since Charles’s death, Jackson’s mentor had gone out of her way to make her feel welcome, not just as a member of the odd group of supernaturals who’d made her bar a second home, but as an addition to Jackson’s life.
Even so, guilt filled Mackenzie as she stared at the small, cleanly chiseled headstone. The one thing Mahalia had refused to discuss was Steven’s death, and she didn’t know how the older woman would come to terms with the part Mackenzie had played in it. It was my fault. My mistake.
Nick crumpled the bag, shoved it at Alec and twisted the cap from the bottle in her hand. “Who wants to go first?”
Mahalia squinted against the afternoon sunlight. “That would be me.”
Instead of speaking, she held the bottle and stared at the grave in silence. Finally, she smiled faintly. “Damn near thirty years, wasn’t it? Rest well, Steven.” With that, she tilted back the bottle and gulped down several swallows. She coughed as she shoved it at Mackenzie. “I didn’t remember that stuff being so vile.”
Mackenzie cradled the bottle between her hands and tried to speak around the lump in her throat. “I wish I’d had more time—” Her eyes burned and she squeezed them shut. “Thank you.” She tried not to choke on the expensive liquor as it burned its way down her throat.
Jackson accepted the tequila with a lopsided grin. “You did it, Steven. You stopped it.” He drank and waved the bottle at Nick.
She sipped in silence and held it out to Alec, who shook his head. “Someone’s got to drive you lushes back home.”
Mackenzie slipped her arm around Jackson’s waist, silently urging him to lean on her. “Jackson needs to get back to the car soon. He shouldn’t be walking so much on his leg.”
“Don’t fuss,” he whispered against the top of her head.
Mahalia opened her bag and pulled out a worn, leather-bound book. “This was in Steven’s things.” She held it out to Mackenzie. “It’s Zacharias Nelson’s journal. It looks like he followed Charles’s plans pretty closely, but there’s nothing in there about the second boy. He mentioned your mother, though.”
Mackenzie’s hand shook as she reached out. “Did he think—” The words caught in her throat, drowned in a sudden wave of hope. A week ago she might have forced the hope back, but a week ago she hadn’t believed in magic and miracles. “Could she still be alive?”
“Old Zach thought so. Steven talked to me about it before…” She squinted and glanced away. “He never put much stock in it before you showed up, alive and well.”
Mackenzie clutched the book to her chest and tightened her arm around Jackson’s waist. “Then I guess I’ll just have to look.”
He hummed his agreement. “Good thing you’re dating a private investigator.”
She shushed him with a soft noise and met Mahalia’s gaze again. “I still don’t feel right about the will. Are you sure you won’t reconsider the arrangements?”
“Steven left me everything I wanted, honey,” she murmured with a shake of her head. “He wanted you to have the rest of his estate. So you could make a life for yourself.”
He’d left her a small fortune, enough to be self-sufficient while she found her feet. Enough to start her own dance school if she wanted, and to realize all the dreams that had been so out of reach only a few months ago.
She made sure Jackson was steady enough to stand on his own and reached out to take the bottle of tequila from Nick. The second gulp burned her throat just as much, but at least she could blame her tears on the alcohol as she stepped forward and upended the bottle. Amber liquid splashed onto the grave, and she cleared her throat as she righted the bottle. “Rest well,” she whispered, echoing Mahalia’s words.
Reading Order
1. Crux
2. Crossroads