“Then you show up out of the blue in Melbourne, and I knew you couldn’t stay. It wasn’t safe. But I wasn’t strong enough to make you leave. So I had the great idea to get out.”
“And they didn’t like it,” she says, smart enough to put the puzzle pieces together.
“That night at The Bar was their warning. Leave and we won’t just shoot you, we’ll shoot your girlfriend too. So I rang your brothers and the next morning you were gone.”
Mac wraps her arms around herself, hugging her upper body. It makes me ache that I can’t do that for her. “You could’ve told me. Instead you kept me in the dark. You made the decision to get rid of me.”
“They would have killed you!” My shout is so loud she flinches. Why can’t she see that I was just trying to keep her alive!
“I can take care of myself!” she shouts back. “You’re just like my brothers. You think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t.” Her entire body is trembling now. I take a step toward her, and she steps back again. “You have no idea!”
“I’m sorry,” I implore. “I was young, Mac. And stupid. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You thought,” she throws out. Her voice is harsher than the black coffee she drinks. “You. You. You. What about what I thought?”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I was wrong.”
Mac tilts her head back. An abrupt laugh leaves her lips as if my apology is ludicrous. The sound dies out and she shakes her head. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Her eyes fill and she blinks. “What a goddamn clusterfuck.”
Emptiness engulfs me. Coming clean was the right thing to do, but at what cost? “Can we just put this behind us and move forward? I know it won’t be easy, but we have time on our side. I love you.”
Mac steps back again and the fracture at our feet is so wide now I fear it irreparable. “There’s no moving forward, Jake. Only moving on.”
She turns and plucks a set of car keys from the bowl by the door. Then she leaves without speaking another word.
The duplex settles into painful silence. The kind so loud it roars in your ears. I sink back on the couch, trying to convince myself it doesn’t hurt. That maybe she’s right. Moving on might be the only way.
The front door flies open with a bang.
My head jerks up.
Mac is standing there, eyes on me. Her mouth opens and closes. “I …”
Hope rises in a heady rush. I stand.
Her eyes darts to the kitchen, her body skittish. “I forgot my bag.”
“You don’t need your bag.”
Her brows soar high. “I don’t?”
“No. Because you’re not going anywhere.”
“Jake.” She shuts the front door behind her and moves on legs that appear unsteady.
Give me something, Princess.
Please.
Anything.
“I love you too.”
The impact of her words hit so hard my eyes close for a second. I absorb them like the warm summer sun on a cool blustery day. How can she still feel the same knowing what I’ve done? I don’t deserve it, but I don’t care. We’ve gone through too much and come too far for me to not grab that love with both hands.
Mac is still there when my eyes open, her declaration lingering in the air between us. I close the distance and grasp the lapels of her leather jacket, pulling her against me. Her hands cup my cheeks and I mash my lips down on hers. Heat shoots straight to my belly.
Mac doesn’t hold back. Her mouth is warm and eager. I part her lips with my tongue and sweep inside with aggression. My hands loosen on her jacket. They slide underneath and span her ribcage.
The kiss feels endless yet it’s not enough. I draw back, giving us a moment to breathe. Her hands slide from my face and she moves backward. My arms fall away. The expression on her face gives my gut a jerky twinge.
“No, babe. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” I demand, my voice hoarse. “Right now.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I love you, but I can’t do this,” she whispers.
“You can,” I argue. My anger grows until I fear my chest will explode.
Mac holds her head high. “I’m sorry, Jake. Too much has happened. Too many lies and secrets. I can’t get past it. I just can’t.”
I breathe deep, fighting for calm, but I lose. “Goddammit!” I roar.
Mac flinches.
I turn and kick the small side table beside the sofa. The force has it skidding across the floor upending against the wall near the stairs. One of the legs splinters on impact. It doesn’t ease the rage and frustration. Grabbing the glass bowl off the cabinet by the door, I throw it across the room. It smashes against the wall and punches a hole in the plaster before shattering into a rain of glass shards across the floor.
“Stop it!” Mac shouts, her voice piercing the red haze.
I’ve never had anything worthwhile apart from music and Mackenzie Valentine. But I’m a fool, because I never had her. It seems destiny has decreed I never will.
I try to say something, anything, but words stick in my throat.
Mac speaks instead. Her tone is soothing. “Remember that summer when we were kids and we snuck up on Mitch and Eli in the backyard with the hose?”
Of course I remember. It was hot as blazes, and Mac still had that damn cast on her arm. She couldn’t swim in the pool and every shower required her wrapping it up in garbage bags. We wrapped it up again after lunch and lay under the sprinkler on the front lawn to cool off. Mac had been in the throes of planning a revenge attack against Mitch. He’d tipped out her new, expensive shampoo a week earlier and filled the bottle with dishwashing liquid. Her hair resembled straw for two days afterward until Jenna had him coughing up hard-earned pocket money to pay for a deep-conditioning treatment at a salon.
It hadn’t eased Mac’s bitterness. She was busy griping as we lay on the lawn, drops of water sprinkling intermittently over our bodies. Then an idea hit me. Mitch and Elijah were seated at the table out the back, frantically pulling together their summer essays at the last minute before school started back. I suggested we hose them.
So we did. Creeping around the back of the house, Mac hid behind the hedge of shrubbery while I stood by the tap waiting for the signal. Turning the dial to jet and taking aim, Mac touched her earlobe and then held up two fingers telling me she was good to go.
I twisted the tap and ran, reaching her side just as she turned the hose on Mitch full force. The blast had loose papers and books flying off the back table in a flood of complete and utter devastation.
The fury Mitch turned our way should’ve set our hair on fire. He stood like the Terminator, eyes red with a vengeance that would not be stopped. Mac had muttered an “oh shit” and dropped the hose, leaving it to gush water over the grass.
Grabbing her arm, I dragged her off until we were running around the side of the house, our hands clasped tightly together and laughter tearing from us until my eyes blurred and my sides hurt.