Against my will, my eyes found Mac. She was still across the way with Larry and Emily, but she was standing and looking between Connor and me.
My hand found the key ring in my pocket, and I swallowed uncomfortably at what she might have overheard.
I forced myself to take a steadying breath and face my friend. “Abby, I’m sorry for the trouble. I’m going to get out of your hair.”
He sighed. “You don’t have to leave, Brady. He was out of line. He deserved it. I was just trying to keep you out of jail. You know that asshat would have pressed charges.”
I nodded. “And I was definitely going to punch him in the face.”
My gaze flitted to Mac, who was still watching me.
“I’m taking off,” I said abruptly and slapped Abby and Jase on the back. “I’ll see y’all later.”
Then, I ignored the way Mac started walking around the perimeter of the fire, and I bolted for my truck.
To avoid that dipshit Connor, I cut through the knee-high grass and took the long way around the barn. The whole way there, I replayed what had happened and why I’d reacted so violently. That led me back to the incident with Floyd years ago. We’d gotten in a little more back-and-forth shoving before Abby had stepped in that time. The reason was nebulous, floating in the ether, just waiting for me to reach for it.
Instead, I flung open the driver’s-side door and threw myself into my truck, breathing hard and clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. I turned the ignition and cranked the heat up and stared unseeingly at the trees outside my window.
There had to be a logical explanation for why every single time I’d nearly come to blows with someone had been over the woman I couldn’t even have a civil conversation with. Yes, Mac and I brought out the worst in each other. I liked getting a rise out of her. She got off on it, too.
But then my mind drifted again to last Friday, hearing her confession, feeling the weight of her in my arms, the way she’d burrowed against me and held on tight.
Of course, I was attracted to Mac. That was just ... biological. She was beautiful. And, sure, back in high school, I’d wanted something different—something more. But I’d been too immature and stupid to make it happen. Maybe that was why I’d teased her so much. I’d wanted her attention, but I didn’t know how to go about getting it in a healthy way—too afraid she’d laugh in my face.
And then the thing happened with Floyd junior year. It had been shitty, but it had taken the possibility of Mac hooking up with my friend to get me to open my eyes and try being nice to her. To understand that I, maybe, wanted her for myself. But it hadn’t worked out, or it had been too little, too late. We’d devolved back into bickering and pranks, and from that point on, she seemed to hate me more than ever. I became the villain in a story that had gotten away from me. Where the character had overthrown the plot.
But that had been so long ago—over a decade. Sure, there had been times over the years when I’d gotten Mac good and riled and wondered what would happen if I kissed the hell out of her. I didn’t usually let myself venture too far down that path, assuming it would end in a praying mantis-style mating ritual and I’d end up headless. I didn’t have a head to spare—either one of them.
As my hands continued to tighten reflexively on the steering wheel of the truck, I pictured Mac’s maniacal glee over a well-timed zinger, the way her gray eyes flashed when I hit the mark in return. I remembered her cold nose pressing into my neck and the throaty sound of her voice telling me how good I smelled.
A hazy, imprecise realization was taking shape, like the Ghost of Christmas Past becoming corporeal so he could smack down some knowledge on my ignorant self. I shook my head, unwilling and firmly in denial.
“No,” I said out loud into the darkness.
But other images flashed behind my eyes. Mac cackling in the stands after she stole my soccer uniform freshman year, and I’d had to play the first half in a pair of her short shorts she’d shoved into my sports bag instead.
Or that time at senior prom when she’d brought a college sophomore with her. I’d caught up with them at the punch bowl and told her there’d been no need topay a long-lost cousin to pose as her date. That had gotten her good and mad. Later, I’d watched from the sidelines as she’d danced in a very nonfamilial way with the mystery guy. My own date had gotten so pissed at being ignored that she gathered up her friends and took off with the limo I’d saved up all spring to rent.
It was Mac, over and over again. I couldn’t stop the rush of information or the knowledge landing like a sledgehammer over my head.
The way her eyes lit up and her energy crackled when we sparred. How my stomach flipped over itself when she slid into the market booth next to me on a Saturday morning. Anticipation, bright and addictive. The craving for her attention, for any kernel of acknowledgement, a single glance, a vicious grin. And the absolute satisfaction I felt anytime I could make her crack and get a laugh out of her.
My eyes shot open and I panted into the quiet, “Oh shit. Ohfuck.”
I dropped my head to the top of the steering wheel and practically wheezed, “I think I’ve been in love with MacKenzie Clark my whole life.”
five
MAC
“What the hell was that?” I demanded when I reached Abby.
He sighed. “Just some toxic masculinity and unwelcome realizations.”
I frowned. “Why did Brady go after Connor like that?”And why did I get the feeling it involved me?
Abby glanced at Jase, who shrugged before resuming his seat.
