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“Hey, Blake,” Mack greets her.
“Whatcha makin’ Kate for dinner?” Blake quizzes.
“He’s not making me anything,” I argue.
“Uh-huh. Sure,” Mia quips as Blake ignores me and calls out, “Have fun on your non-date, you two!”
I give Blake the evil eye over my shoulder for daring to say the D-word, but she only wiggles her fingers back at me in a half-wave. “Love you, too, Katie Kat!”
“Aaaand, we’re leaving,” I announce. Hooking my backpack over my shoulder, I head outside, close the door behind us, and walk to the passenger side of Mack’s SUV. When he opens the door for me, I climb inside while ignoring the tiny voice inside my head questioning whether or not nine years is all that much after all.
15
MACKLIN
The wind rages, the clouds angry and gray as we drive toward my place. Kate deferred to me when it came to the music, but her pouty little lips mouthed along to most of the lyrics, so I think she was okay with my choices.
She’s been quiet since I picked her up.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
If I’ve learned anything about Kate Winchester, it’s that the girl likes to keep her lips sealed tighter than a clam most days.
But it’s nice. The silence. The ease. Summer hated silence. She felt like she had to fill it, no matter what. Even if she had to start a fight, gossip about her friends, or complain about my mom. She had to say something. Anything. Until it began to sound more like noise instead of an actual, genuine conversation. It’s probably why she became so frustrated with me, convinced I didn’t care about her thoughts or feelings. And maybe, in the end, I didn’t. That’s on me. I won’t say it isn’t. But still. This? This silence? It’s comfortable. I miss feeling comfortable in silence when I’m around someone. I glance at Kate and find her staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“What are you thinking about?” Her voice is soft. Like a caress. Less hostile than all the other times I’ve run into her.
This Kate is more dangerous. More tempting.
She’s a friend, I remind myself.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she adds when I don’t answer immediately.
“I was thinking about how quiet you are.”
Her brows furrow. “Compared to what?”
“To my ex.”
“Ex?” she questions.
“Yeah. I think I mentioned this, but I was married for sixteen years.”
“But you’re only thirty-four,” she reminds me as if the math doesn’t check out or some shit.
With a smirk, I look at her again. “How do you know how old I am?”
As if caught saying something she shouldn’t, she clears her throat and shrugs one shoulder. “Uh, Blakely told me.”
I nod, turning back to the dark road as we climb up the mountain. It’s raining now. The droplets stream on the windshield faster and faster, blurring my vision as my wipers pick up their pace.
“It’s not like we weretalking,talking about you or anything,” she rushes out. “And technically, Mia’s the one who asked.”
“Mia’s the other roommate?”
“Yes?”
