Page 60 of Mack

Mack chuckled. “Sounds about right. Good day for it anyway.”

“Yes, but he’s sound asleep. He didn’t make it through Nemo again.”

“He doesn’t very often, does he?”

“Not often. How are the roads?”

“Mr. Barton’s done what he can, but it fills back in as fast as it gets cleared. Still bad out there. I’m going to walk over to the diner and get something. I missed lunch.”

“Mack, it’s after two.”

“I was at that accident a while.”

“Go eat. Right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Looking forward to it, darlin’.” He hung up and sat there for a second with the phone in his hand, aware that the word had come out without him deciding to say it.

****

Mallory set her phone on the arm of the sofa and smiled at nothing in particular.

She was glad he’d called. She was also aware of the low hum of worry that had been running under the day, knowing he was out in this weather, handling whatever the roads threw at him. She hoped he got a hot meal, stayed warm, and got home in one piece.

T.J. hadn’t stirred. She tucked the blanket more snugly around him and brushed his bangs back from his forehead, as she always did when he was sleeping, and the world was quiet enough to just look at him.

He’d be disappointed he’d missed the call. He loved talking to Mack, and Mack talked to him like what he said mattered, like a three-year old’s opinions on dinosaurs and snowmen and the correct way to eat lasagna were worth taking seriously. T.J. felt it. Children always did.

Some men ran at the first mention of a single mother. Mack hadn’t flinched. He’d crouched down and offered a handshake for a stuffed dinosaur and that had been that.

She pulled her own blanket up and stared at the fire.

She knew she was falling. She’d known for a while. What she was still working on was believing that this time it wouldn’t cost her everything.

Troy hadn’t been a man. She’d decided that a long time ago. No real man raised his hand to a woman. No real man used his fists to feel powerful. Troy had been cruel and small, and she refused to give him even the dignity of the word.

Mack was the other thing entirely. Confident without needing to prove it. Strong without using it against anyone. A man who wrapped his coat around a little boy on horseback and thought nothing of it.

She looked at her sleeping son and really hoped she was right this time.

Later, as she and T.J. sat at the dinner table, she found herself wondering how Mack’s day had gone. She hadn’t heard from him since the afternoon call and the worry had settled back in quietly, like it did when she wasn’t paying attention.

“Mama?”

“Hmm?”

“Is Mack coming over tonight?”

“Not tonight, baby. It’s late and the roads are still bad.”

T.J. considered this with a frown. “But the snowman.”

“I know. We’ll have plenty of snow this weekend, I promise. You can build it then.”

He frowned, then nodded. “Yep.”

She watched him go back to his dinner, already moving on the way only three-year-olds can, and felt the worry settle a little deeper.

She picked up her fork and told herself no news was good news.