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“Why?”
“Because I want to, that’s why.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Mac,” I tell him quietly. I wonder if this is a deed he is doing to make up for the guilt he feels for what happened. It sucks that it happened, but it was a long time ago. And after what he told me the other day, he doesn’t owe me anything. Actually, I probably owe him an apology for never giving him the opportunity to talk. One day I’ll work up the courage to give that apology.
“You may not think I owe you anything, but I feel I do. Just let me do this for you, Pix.” The remorse I hear in his voice makes my chest hurt. I never realized how deep his pain was until now. He was a victim just as much as I was.
“Okay.” I pull my keys out of my purse and hand them to him.
He looks at me in surprise before giving me a small smile. “Thank you.”
Mac glances over and sees my gauzed-wrapped hand sitting in my lap. “What happened to your hand?”
I had forgotten all about it during the episode with Shady, and then with Mac.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “I just nicked it on some glass.”
Yes, I’m going back with my original “nicking” fib.
We lapse into silence, and a few minutes later, Mac pulls the truck into my driveway. My porch light is on, illuminating the bottom of my two-story house.
“Thank you for the ride.”
“You’re welcome. Next time call me if you need a ride home. Do not go walking around in the dark like that.”
I roll my eyes at his demand, but reply with, “Yeah, sure.”
I grab the handle to open the door, but Mac stops me by putting his hand on mine. “Will you have lunch with me and T tomorrow at Maggie’s?”
And just like two nights ago, his words surprise me. What surprises me even more is my reply.
“Yes.”
He flashes me a smile that sends heat straight into my panties. It doesn’t help that Mac is rubbing small circles on the back of my hand. I squeeze my legs together to help squelch the feeling.
“I’ll see you tomorrow when I drop your car off. We can leave then and go to the diner.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Sheriff,” I say, and slide my hand from his. I already miss the feel of his rough fingers and the swirls he was creating.
“Goodnight, Pix. Sweet dreams,” he says softly.
I close the door without looking back and quietly walk up my steps and straight into the house.
12
Mac
Her laugh…
“COME OVER HERE, T,” I call to my son, who’s busy playing his handheld video game inside the truck. “It’s time you learn how to change a tire.”
He puts the game down and gets out of the truck. When he walks up beside me, I move out of the way and hand him the crowbar to loosen the lug nuts. I know he’s not strong enough yet to loosen them himself, but I’ll let him try it first. I already have the car jacked up enough to take the pressure off the tires. I show him how to put the crowbar on the lug nuts and which way to turn it. Once done, he strains and pulls with all his strength. Of course, it doesn’t budge.
He looks up at me as if I’m stupid for giving him this job. “Really, Dad? You know I can’t loosen these.”
I fight back my chuckle, not wanting to hurt his pride. I step up behind him and place my hands just above his on the crowbar and together we pull up. We loosen all the lug nuts, and then I let himjack the car the rest of the way. Neither of us talks, opting to work in silence. T is a naturally quiet child, always has been.
I step back and let him finish taking off the lug nuts. As I watch him, I think about last night. When I saw Shady leaning over Mia, I wanted to rip his arms away and slam my fist into his face. Shady’s always been someone I don’t trust. He wasn’t given the name Shady at birth. He earned that name. Even back in high school he did some pretty shady shit.
