Mac sniffed and composed herself. “After the accident, I got scared. So scared. I’ll never forget looking through the glass and seeing you unmoving and bleeding. And knowing that I loved you so fucking much, I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
I watched her struggle through the admission, knowing she meant it. Her loving me wasn’t a surprise. Hearing her admit it was, though. But it didn’t bring me satisfaction to know she’d been scared or confused. I didn’t feel vindicated. I just wanted her to be happy. I wanted us both to be happy.
“But you were right.” She nodded. “About everything. I never anticipated falling for you, and I did what I always do when I’m insecure or off-balance. I lashed out and rejected those emotions. Pushed them away by force, and you right along with them.”
This was what I’d hoped for. Her admission. Her self-awareness. But I told the foolish heart vibrating wildly in my chest not to get ahead of itself. “So what changed?”
She took a breath. “I realized I have unhealthy expectations for myself. And it turns out, some of my very favorite people were born and raised and still live in this town. I’m sorry I punished you for something that’s broken in me.”
I gave in and reached for her hand. “You’re not broken, Mac. Do you want to move away? Do you think that would make you happier?” I hated that it might be true, but I knew I’d go with her if she asked.
She was already shaking her head, though. “No. Kirby Falls is home. I like my job at the farm. I feel good about where I’m at. I love my family and my friends. And I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you. If you don’t think you can forgive me or if you don’t want to be?—”
I cut her off by closing the distance between us and pressing my lips to hers.
She made a sound, one of relief tinged with desperation, and a moment later, I felt her warm tears against my cheek.
I rested my forehead against hers. “I can forgive you. It’s okay, Mac.”
She pulled back and opened her eyes. They glistened silver in the low light of the Jeep’s interior.
I swiped the moisture from her face and smiled. “You admitted you love me.”
Mac laughed, a surprised, happy sound. “I do. I love you. I want to go on a date without an asterisk. I want to get a tattoo of your name onmybutt. I want you to call me stupid nicknames for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be without you. Somehow, someway, you’re my best friend and my worst enemy, and I never want that to change. We can fight forever if you want, Brady. Just promise you’ll love me too.”
I kissed her again and then pulled back suddenly when my brain caught on something.
“Wait, was all this—today—your plan? Did yougrand gestureme?”
“Yes,” she admitted sheepishly.
“Have youeverread a romance novel?” I asked incredulously.
She straightened away from me. “Yes. Have you?”
“Of course I have. So your idea of a grand gesture was to fight with me about cornhole and wear teeny-tiny shorts to torture me?”
Mac tucked a wayward strand of hair behind one ear. “The shorts were Becca’s idea.”
I shook my head, thinking back to her tight hug and her whisperedI’m pulling for you. She hadn’t been talking about cornhole at all. “God, she looks so sweet and innocent. Diabolical.”
Then my mouth dropped open. “So, this whole thing? My sister and Mercer?”
“I had to get you here. And also strand you here.”
“And Maggie needing one more player? And assigning teams?”
Mac grinned.
“Wow. Just wow,” I said, amazed by the level of deviousness and oddly endeared by it.
She threaded her fingers through mine, serious-faced now. “I just figured, you fell in love with me back then, before. Through all the pranks and arguments and bickering. I thought this”—she gestured around us to the lake, the day, the plan, everything—“felt more like us. That it would mean more than showing up at your door with an apology and my heart in my hands. I wanted you to remember who we’ve always been to each other. How integral. How vital. I know you wanted to keep us a secret?—”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. “That was a mistake. I was never ashamed of you. I don’t actually want to hide us from anyone.”
“I know.” Mac squeezed my hand. “I know that now. But it’s okay to remember how we got here. It’s okay if people bring up our history, like how we tried to kill each other with Elmer’s glue fifteen years ago. It’ll just make a good story for the grandkids someday.”
My happiness was too big to be enclosed in such a small space. I could feel how wide my smile was, the dimple creasing my cheek. “We have lots of good stories.”
