Spark of Hope (MacKenny Brothers #3) - Kathleen Kelly Page 0,47

finger under her chin so I’m staring into her eyes, hoping she understands what I’m about to say. “Over the past few days, the one thing I do know I want is you. And if you come with a smart-ass teenage son, then that’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Lola sags against me as what I assume is relief overtakes her.

Annie comes back into the room. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Lola shakes her head.

“No, thanks, Annie. I’m going to take Lola to Da’s house.”

Annie shakes her head. “Kyle MacKenny, how many times do I have to tell you, it’s your house. Take Lola there and make it a home.”

As always, Annie knows the right things to say. Lola stands, and I do too.

“Thank you, Annie.”

“Pfft! Family isn’t always about blood. It’s being there when you need someone.” Annie reaches up and touches my shoulder. “And you and your brothers have always been there for me. I’ll always think of you as my own.” She pats my shoulder and stands back. “Now, get this young lady home. She needs to rest.”

Kyle

Sleep. I’ve always been able to close my eyes and drift off almost immediately. Logan is asleep in the front bedroom. Lola is in the master bedroom, and she too is asleep. Her newly dyed red hair splayed out over the pillow, giving her an almost angelic appearance. Her face is peaceful, and I’m not sure whether it’s from the painkillers, relief at still being mine, or simply having a home for her son with me.

Kicking off my boots, I strip quickly and slide under the cotton sheets. Although she’s asleep, Lola’s hand finds mine and our fingers entwine instinctively. I smile. Even in sleep, she’s searching for a connection. The ache that was in my chest has eased. I wish the pain would disappear completely, but there’s still more for us to get through.

We have her brother and Tommy and Suzie out at the pit, and I handed her mother over to the Rochas. I’m going to give her two days to heal, and then together, we’re going to sit down and talk about the events of the last few days.

I have no idea how she’s going to react.

Moving onto my side, I stare at her sleeping face and send a prayer up to the Almighty, thanking him for getting her back to me in one piece and asking for forgiveness for what I have to do.

Closing my eyes, I listen to her breathing, and, as always, sleep claims me within moments.

Rolling over, I reach out for Lola and find the bed empty and cold. Pulling on my jeans, I stagger out. Hearing voices, I follow them and find Lola and Logan in the kitchen. Both are laughing and talking. Leaning against the wall, I remain quiet and observe mother and son find their way around each other. They’re cooking what I think is spaghetti bolognese, the sauce smells good.

“Are you sure this is how you make garlic bread?”

Lola shrugs. “I think so?”

“So, we mash the garlic into the butter and spread it on? Surely, there’s more to it than that?”

“What else would go in it?”

Logan shrugs. “The one from the store has green bits in it.”

“Green bits?”

“Yeah, some kind of herb?”

I chuckle at their banter, and they turn around to face me.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” says Lola.

Logan grins at me. “About time you got up.”

Pushing off the wall, I walk toward them and casually put my arm around Lola’s waist. “What time is it?”

Lola kisses me. “It’s one o’clock.”

“What?” I ask as I check the time on the microwave.

“Yeah. I tried to wake you, but you were out,” says Logan.

“It’s been a rough few days, kid.”

Logan nods. “We have spaghetti sauce on, tried to make pasta, and now we’re working on garlic bread.”

“I heard,” I reply with a chuckle. “The green stuff is parsley. But you don’t have to put it in. The garlic and the butter will do. Although, if you want to take it up a level, cheese is good.”

“Everything’s better with cheese,” agrees Logan.

“What did you mean by you tried to make pasta?”

Lola moves slightly away from me. “You don’t have a pasta machine, and I can’t roll it out. Logan tried, but…” her words trail off as she grins at her son.

“Hey, I did an okay job. Your instructions kind of sucked.”

Laughing loudly, I ask, “Okay, where is it?”

Logan points to a clothes-drying rack that they have set up in the corner where hand-cut strips of