Page 50 of Take What Hurts

Finally, Elliott huffed out a weak laugh. “How will I ever survive.” It’s what Elliott would say, but the way she said it—so devoid of the usual humor—made Mackenzie’s chest feel like it was going to split itself open. With another weak pulling up of her mouth, Elliott opened her door and swung a long leg out onto the dewy lawn.

Grasping desperately for their usual back-and-forth, Mackenzie scoffed. “You wouldn’t. You love m—” She cut herself off before she finished the sentence. She watched Elliott half stumble on her way to the trunk but was grateful when she didn’t acknowledge the slip. Why wasn’t she better at this?

The truth came easily. She was big enough to admit it to herself, notwithstanding that she didn’t know where Elliott stood—certainly not with all this, well, weirdness. But Mackenzie was well on her way to being in that place, and she only hoped she wasn’t going to arrive there alone.

She held her hand out to Elliott to take her overnight bag, but Elliott only hitched it up higher on her shoulder. “I’ve got it.”

The little voice of warning turned itself up another notch, and Mackenzie frowned at the same time her hand shot out and wrapped itself around Elliott’s arm. “Hey, wait. Are you okay?”

At Mackenzie’s touch, Elliott went rigid and turned enough for Mackenzie to take in the half of her face that wasn’t hidden in shadow in the low light of the evening. The same plastic smile was back, and it appeared to be painful in the way it pulled the skin on her cheeks tight. Her shoulders set themselves in a hard line, and that same stiffness that had seemed to take control of every muscle in Elliott’s body on the bench at the ice rink reinhabited her body—like her every joint had rusted like old hinges. Mackenzie’s heart jolted in her chest, and she frowned as she tried to catch Elliott’s evasive eye. “Elliott, are you all right? You were really⁠—”

Elliott shook Mackenzie’s hand off and took half a step away, the distance akin to a canyon rather than inches. Eyes darting to the house, she said woodenly, “I’m fine. Let’s just get inside. My mom’s probably waiting at the door again.”

She brushed by Mackenzie without another glance and hurried toward the house, and as Mackenzie hovered outside, a modicum of worry slithered through her. Because the puzzle pieces of Elliott’s behavior were revealing themselves, and all signs indicated that something was wrong. And she was starting to think it had absolutely nothing to do with Elliott’s job.

“Is work still giving you grief, Mackenzie?” Nancy smiled knowingly over her forkful of lasagna, and Mackenzie let out a snort through her own mouthful. Despite just how off Elliott was behaving, it was hard not to feel warm in Nancy’s presence.

“Is it ever not?”

Nancy laughed, and Elliott, sitting across the table from Mackenzie and next to Nancy, looked between the two of them, eyebrows knitted together. The kernel of unease that had been growing in Mackenzie’s stomach, expanding every time Elliott blew her off with the excuse of “work” in the week since the night they’d gone ice-skating, had finally exploded into a full-blown hunk of worry when Elliott had taken the seat at the table as far away from Mackenzie as she could get. Not once in all the time they’d spent together had Elliott chosen not to sit next to Mackenzie or, otherwise, as close to her as humanly possible.

Unaware of the panic brewing like a storm inside Mackenzie, Nancy sighed. “I really don’t know how either of you deal with those people. Especially with everything going on with your mom, Mackenzie.” Nancy shook her head, and a flush inched over Mackenzie’s neck.

Elliott’s frowned deepened. “With your—what? Mom, how do you know about that?”

Nancy frowned now, and Mackenzie learned immediately where Elliott got the crease between her eyebrows from. “Mackenzie told me. Last week, wasn’t it, Mackenzie?”

The flush rushed the rest of the way into her face, because, though she’d mentioned the drama with her mother to Elliott, she hadn’t mentioned calling Nancy. The last time they’d stayed, when Elliott and her dad had gone out to the shed, skis in tow, Nancy had proven to be skilled at pulling real conversation out of Mackenzie. And when Mackenzie had let it all out, and they both had tears running down their cheeks, Nancy had stroked her hair and told her that, categorically, none of it was her fault. And inexplicably, Mackenzie had believed it from her more than she’d ever believed it from her therapist. Then Nancy had given Mackenzie her phone number and told her to text or call her whenever she wanted.

Mackenzie hadn’t used the number, not wanting to disturb Nancy, until the previous week. She had been staring at the ceiling, alone, because Elliott had been weird and had blown her off and Frankie had been busy, probably literally tied up with her latest mysterious love interest and Mackenzie had been lonely. So she’d dialed Nancy’s number, and they’d talked on the phone for an hour and had texted throughout the week, and, well, it warmed Mackenzie more than she cared to admit.

In that moment, Mackenzie decided she had nothing to feel embarrassed about and if Elliott wanted more information, she could damn well open her mouth and speak to her like an adult. Resolved, she lifted her chin and took a sip of her glass of red. “We deal with them with a great deal of pain and suffering. Total nightmare.” Nancy laughed and lifted her own glass in cheers.

Mackenzie watched Elliott drop her eyes and stare resolutely at her plate from where she sat across the table. “What is happening,” Mackenzie heard her mutter under her breath. Mackenzie concurred with the sentiment. Because this version of Elliott—sulking and moody—Mackenzie didn’t know what to do with.

Nancy nudged Elliott’s shoulder. Not all that lightly either. “Mackenzie and I are besties now. You got a problem with that?” She raised a brow at Elliott, eyes flashing with what Mackenzie thought was a warning. Elliott scowled at her mother and rubbed at the spot on her shoulder that, Mackenzie agreed, had to be sore.

Grey chuckled from where he sat quietly next to Mackenzie and smiled sympathetically at Elliott. “Join me in the outsiders club, won’t you?”

Elliott breathed out a shaky laugh into her glass of wine, and Mackenzie couldn’t ignore the way the wine rippled with the trembling of Elliott’s hand. The light flush in Elliott’s cheeks didn’t escape her. Nor did the slightly glassy look in her eyes.

Later, they said good night, and Mackenzie flat out insisted Elliott sleep in the bed in her childhood bedroom. Elliott, with a great deal of shuffling feet, staring at a knot in the hardwood floor and scraping her fingers over the skin of her thumb, reluctantly agreed to let Mackenzie take the couch in the den, which had finally arrived the previous week, apparently. It couldn’t be called a couch, because with the back cushions removed, it was the size of a single bed. Once they’d agreed, Elliott had turned away and shot up the stairs with nothing for Mackenzie but a mumbled “good night” that Mackenzie had barely caught in the muted silence of the den.

Despite how extremely comfortable she was, an hour later she was still awake, staring at the ceiling and entirely unable to shut off her brain. Specifically, the part of the brain that categorically would not stop ruminating on Elliott’s behavior. Aside from the choice of seat at the table, which, on its own, she could have overlooked, Elliott had burrowed herself into the single armchair on the opposite side of the room during the movie they’d watched together after dinner and otherwise hadn’t so much as looked at her when they’d discussed the sleeping arrangements. Add to that the glassy eyes at dinner, the constant blow-offs in the last week, and the oscillation between pulling away from Mackenzie’s touch and stiffening her entire body, like she could transform into a steel column at will, at even the lightest brush of Mackenzie’s hand, and Mackenzie was, well… she was confused. And worried. Thank god they’d already committed to a ticketed Pride event at the pass or Mackenzie was certain Elliott would have canceled.

All the distancing of herself—literally—and the lack of communication, and the sulking. It was all starting to piss Mackenzie off.

They needed to talk.

A fan of resolving things with as much immediacy as possible, Mackenzie wasted no more time. She crept up the stairs to the landing and stood in front of the door that led to Elliott’s room, sucking in a breath. When her barely there knock didn’t glean a response, she gently opened the door. The room was quiet, and she thought for a moment maybe Elliott was asleep. Irritation prickling in her chest with the knowledge that any resolution would be delayed, she turned to shut the door when: “Mackenzie?”

She whirled around, a tingle of anticipation igniting in her belly, to find the dark outline of Elliott propped up on an elbow, hair mussed. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered in the dark. “Did I wake you?”

Mackenzie caught the shake of Elliott’s head in the gloom. “Couldn’t sleep. Is everything okay?”

Mackenzie took another step into the room. “I’m not sure. Can I come in?”

Elliott nodded and patted the bed beside her. Mackenzie perched herself on the vacant edge of the bed and twisted her fingers together. She took a deep breath, and the words rushed out. “I’m going to ask you again, and I want you to be honest. Are you okay? You don’t—you don’t really seem like yourself, and—” She sighed. “Did I—well, I’m worried I did something wrong,” she finished in a rush. She stared at a polka dot on Elliott’s bedspread.