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I stop trying to make conversation about ten minutes into the drive when the only things I get back are non-committal sounds or one-word answers.
He’s not fuming, he’s not even snapping, but there’s something about Mack that screams furious at me.
I don’t know why.
I mull over the afternoon and evening. Everything seemed good. His family seems to like me—not that it should matter as I’m not his anything and I’m not staying here—even little London got over her shyness and became my best friend, though she’s more than devoted to both Rose and Mack.
She brings a smile to my face. Gran would adore the child. See herself in the pint-sized troublemaker and future adventure queen.
The smile fades.
Everything was fine, good, better than good, right up until Mack’s brother got a call and gave me a slight look and then went out to talk to Mack.
Coldness comes over me, from deep within my bones, and I shift in the seat as the cabin starts to grow. “Mack? What did your brother say?”
He doesn’t answer, simply keeps driving until we’re right near Christine. He pulls to a stop, turns off the ignition, and sits, hands on the wheel.
Then he gets out, comes around, and opens my door, waiting. I climb out on shaking legs. Did my parents find me? The mafia? Is there an army of blood thirsty criminals waiting outside the town’s edge?
I force myself to breathe and look at him.
“Inside.”
It’s all he says, and the anger in me flares at being treated like some small child. Treated the way my mother treats me, like I’m unable to make any decision that’s right.
I storm after him, aware I’m doing what he ordered, that pigheaded man. But how else am I going to give him a piece of my mind?
I’m so mad I want to give him a piece of my mind, something I never do. When I’m angry, I keep it down, but not now. Not when he won’t even tell me what I did.
Mack slams the door as I step inside, and he’s close, breathing hard. The air crackles and dances between us with an electricity of a dangerous kind.
“You don’t get to order me around, Mack Burns.”
“Don’t I? Jesus.” He considers me, and I can’t shake the feeling he’s choosing his words carefully. “You’ve been lying to me.”
“I . . .” How do I finish that without lying? Or telling him everything? And what did his brother say?
“What did Lawson tell you?”
Those brown eyes harden, and he looks for all the world like a predator who knows he has his prey. “What do you think he said, Sidney?”
I shake my head and go for the door, trying to open it. I can barely breathe as the walls of this cage I walked so willingly into close around me. “I need to go.”
“Cut the fuckin’ bullshit.” He pushes the palm of his hand against the door, and there’s no way for me to open it now, I can’t fight him. “And try something new, like talking to me.”
I swallow. “I told you about my parents, and—”
“Not that. Why you lied about the rest. Your name.”
“My name?”
“Yes, Sidney, or should I say Sidney Thompson?” He gives me a cynical smile. “Isn’t that the name you registered under at the lodge?”
“Mack . . .” I hold out my hands. “It’s not how it seems.”
“It isn’t? Because I never checked your insurance for the car or ran registration.”
“You saw my ID.”
