He ground his molars together and stared, unseeing, out the windshield at the solid beige of her garage door. He knew her bike would be parked just on the other side, on the left, with boxes on the workbench and upper shelves filled with unpacked belongings accumulated from a lifetime of frequent moves. He could hear dishes clanking inside—her roommate was home. Good. Mackenzie would have someone to talk to when this was all over.
“I understand.”
She snapped her head around. “You do?”
He might as well make this as easy as possible for her and not argue. “And I agree.”
Her eyes opened wide in surprise. He reached over and released a strand of hair caught in her earring. His throat tightened to the point that he wasn’t sure his voice would work. This would be the last time he’d look into her eyes while she looked into his. Oh sure, maybe after he moved, he’d have occasion to visit the Seattle office again and could drive by her house, potentially see her from afar.
But never again would he see her like this. Smell the fragrance of her hair. Touch her soft skin. Hear her speak his name—either casually, while asking him to pass the salt as they prepared dinner together, or at the height of pleasure, while he made love to her and her body shattered around him.
He missed her already. “Mackenzie?” he whispered. “Dom?”
There. She’d said his name again.
“It’s best this way. I could never be the right man for you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Mackenzie, sorry you have to wait with me like this. She’ll be here in a few minutes. I’ll be fine if you need to go.” Abby should’ve sounded dejected, Mackenzie thought. Or sad maybe, but she didn’t. She sounded so matter-of-fact, as if she had expected nothing more from her mother.
“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Mackenzie said. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t have any plans. Just heading home.”
Mackenzie didn’t care what time she got home. She dug her fingernails into the soft skin of her forearm and wondered how long the impressions would stay indented in her skin. She kept pressing, feeling nothing, until the inside of her wrist was lined with six rows of the half-moon scallops.
Since she’d broken things off with Dom, nothing felt right. Like a crucial piece inside of her was missing. She almost hoped he’d argue with her, try to talk her out of it, tell her they’d make it work, that he’d help her find the answers, but he didn’t.
She opened up her phone and reviewed for the billionth time the text she’d received from him three days ago.
The time we spent together was more than I could have dreamed.
Thank you.
I’ve accepted a transfer to San Diego and am leaving tomorrow. Stay safe. D
Reading that made her feel sick all over again. She certainly couldn’t have a change of heart now. He was already gone.
“If the bus went past my house, I could rely on that each week instead of my mom,” Abby said.
“That’s okay, sweetie. I don’t mind. I’d offer to take you home, but I just have my motorcycle and one helmet. Your mom would probably flip out if you got a ride home on one. I know mine would have.”
“Well, she probably wouldn’t care, but I don’t want you to give me a ride home. She should be here soon. She texted me a little while ago. I just hope she didn’t forget.”
All the other kids had been picked up from art class. She and Abby had been waiting outside the studio for over half an hour. She didn’t want to look at her watch because she didn’t want Abby to feel she was getting impatient, but it had to be almost ten o’clock. Class on First Thursday Art Walk night always got out late, and Abby usually stayed around to help her clean up the studio.
The two of them looked up as they heard the screeching tires of a car rounding the corner. As it pulled up to the curb in front of them, it almost clipped a parked car. A thumping beat echoed through the tinted windows.
“Thanks for waiting, Mackenzie.” Abby gave her a cheery smile.
“No problem. See you next week.”
Music blared loudly from inside the vehicle when Abby opened the door and climbed in. Without looking, her mother pulled the car into a tight U-turn and almost hit an oncoming car. The other driver laid on his horn and Abby’s mother gave him the finger. As they sped off, Mackenzie saw her tilt back a can of beer.
Without thinking, Mackenzie jumped on her motorcycle and followed them. If she had thought it through, maybe she would have called the police to have them handle it. She would’ve memorized the license plate number, made note of the street and direction they were driving, and called it in as a drunk driver. Then she would have gone home and climbed into bed. Or taken a bath first.
But she didn’t, and because of that one decision, everything in her life changed.
Thankfully, Abby’s mother was a slow drunk driver. Mackenzie was able to keep up with her and only once, while going over the West Seattle bridge, did she get really worried. The woman never crossed the center line, but she came close. Mackenzie followed them for miles and at every turn, every passing car, she said a silent prayer.
