Mac shook her head and whacked me in the stomach with the back of her hand, but when she stood and climbed back over the low wall, she was smiling.
Somehow, we eked out the win. Even without the distraction of Mac’s cleavage. And when she walked over to me after the game wearing a huge grin, I didn’t hesitate to pull her in for a hug.
All the remaining partygoers crowded around to watch the final match. People cheered and chatted. Neighbors sat on the low wall surrounding the lawn and spectated.
I sort of always felt like I lived in a Hallmark movie, what with our picturesque tourist town and small community. Looking around at everyone gathered, I wondered how Mac felt, if she resented the close-knit group. How she could probably name nearly everyone in the crowd just like I could.
Before the game resumed, I stared at her across twenty feet of grass. She was smiling at whoever had her attention. Another person called out to her, and she ran over and gave a high five. She didn’t look unhappy. She looked like she fit.
I swallowed hard and picked up four red beanbags.
Unfortunately, we got our asses handed to us in the final round by our seventy-year-old former high school biology teacher, Mr. Ammons, and my sister Joan, of all people.
We shook hands with the winners, and I was surprised when Joan pulled me in for a hug. She gave me a rare smile before she headed off into the crowd.
“Well,” Mac said, coming to stand next to me. “Good game.”
I nodded. “Yeah, good game.”
A wave of sadness washed over me. I didn’t know where Mac and I went from here. So I turned and started walking to the parking lot.
My heart felt tender and bruised. I realized I didn’t want to have fun with her. I didn’t want to revert back to our long-standing history. And more than anything, I didn’t want to forget the last six months. It felt like trading one for the other, and I was ready to let go.
I’d force myself to be mature about it someday, when it didn’t hurt so much just to be near her.
Mac found me five minutes later, standing in the spot where Mercer’s truck had been parked eight hours ago.
I had my hands on my hips, staring at the gravel as if it had betrayed me.
“Hey!” she called. “You forgot your winnings.”
I saw the cash she held out in my periphery, but I didn’t turn. “Just keep it.”
After a moment, she said, “Candace and Mercer left a while ago.”
I didn’t respond because of fucking course they did.
“I’ll give you a ride,” she offered.
I closed my eyes. “Fine.”
It felt weird to climb into her Jeep. I fumbled with the seat belt, unsure where to look or what to do with my hands. In all my years of knowing Mac, I couldn’t remember feeling this uncomfortable around her.
She turned on the headlights and bumped along the gravel, but we didn’t make it far. As soon as her grandparents’ lake house came into view at the top of the hill, she pulled into the driveway that wound around the side, out of view of the pavilion, and parked.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She pivoted in her seat to face me. “I wanted to talk, Brady.”
I released a humorless laugh. “I’ve already been kidnapped once today. I’m not really in the mood.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I frowned over at her. “You know?”
But she ignored me. “Brady, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I ended things that way. When you got in the accident—” Her voice broke, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
I had to resist the urge to reach for her, to comfort her when what she’d done had hurt me worse than the front end of Buck Adams’s truck.
