Page 63 of Take What Hurts

“You might be right.” She frowned and ran her eyes over the gouge on Elliott’s cheek. “Although, obviously not attacking you would have been preferable.”

A quick smile tugged at Elliott’s cheeks, before she frowned. Because Mackenzie had a decision to make about which way she wanted to lose her job. And frankly, that was fucked. “What are you going to do?”

Mackenzie glanced away, chewing at her bottom lip. “I think—I think I’m going to resign. Take the package. Not get fired and work out what’s next, you know?” Elliott reached out a hand and squeezed, and Mackenzie hitched an eyebrow to her hairline. “What about you? Do you have a plan?”

Elliott played with the tasseled fringe on the cushion, then thumped a fist into it. Sighing, she brought her eyes back to Mackenzie’s. “I think I want to be away from here.” Her stomach leapt into her throat as she watched Mackenzie’s face collapse. “Oh—no. Babe, that’s—” She huffed out a mirthless laugh. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

Mackenzie tucked her hair behind her ear. “What did you mean, then?”

Elliott pulled Mackenzie across the sofa to her and cradled her head against her chest. “I meant away from Seattle.” Mackenzie’s shoulders peeled an inch away from her ears. “I think I want to move back home. To Heston.”

Mackenzie’s shoulders descended the rest of the way to their natural position, and she lifted her head off Elliott’s chest, eyes gently softening. “You want to do your dream.”

Elliott rolled her eyes, chuckling. “I guess I do.” She dropped her eyes to her lap and pulled at the skin on her index finger. “I don’t—I mean. I want us to be together, though. Do you want that?”

“Elliott Jackson.” Mackenzie narrowed her eyes, a broad smile pulling her mouth apart. “Are you asking to make this official?”

Elliott rolled her eyes. “Why are you like this?”

Mackenzie muffled her laugh against Elliott’s breast, the vibration tugging low in her abdomen.

“But, yes. I am. If you want.” Elliott held her breath as she watched the way Mackenzie’s face flickered with each new thought. Watched the way her brows pulled down in the middle, the way her eyes crinkled at the edges, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Elliott’s chest fluttered with all of it, and especially the tickle of nervousness. Because what if, despite everything, Elliott had still read it all entirely wrong and Mackenzie… wasn’t there yet? She clenched her fists against the overwhelming urge to launch herself across the couch and pull Mackenzie against her and make her forget Elliott had ever asked.

When the silence became so thick that Elliott’s every inhale was like breathing through cotton wool, something seemed to set in Mackenzie’s face. Elliott exhaled hard and rubbed her sweating palms against her thighs, like she was awaiting the verdict of a jury. “I want that,” Mackenzie said. And Elliott could have sagged with relief, until Mackenzie dealt her a different blow. “But I don’t think I can go with you to Heston.” She grimaced, and the stone that lived in Elliott’s stomach, reserved especially for moments like these, started to sink.

Elliott nodded and dropped her eyes to a particularly large fleck of beige in the fabric on the couch. “Okay, well, I could⁠—”

“Absolutely not.”

Elliott huffed out a laugh. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Mackenzie’s eyes flashed with amusement. “You were going to change your whole plan and stay in Seattle.”

Elliott folded her arms and sat back against the arm of the sofa. “You a mind reader now?”

Mackenzie smirked. “You’re not staying here.”

The stone sank further. “Okay, so what does this look like, then?” Elliott picked at the cuticle on her thumb, eyes laser focused on the rawest part. She frowned. “Like, what will you do? You hate your apartment. I know you’d get a new job in, like, a minute, but…”

The depression at Elliott’s feet grew as Mackenzie settled herself on the couch, reaching out to take Elliott’s hands in hers. “Hey, look at me.” Unable to even try to refuse, Elliott’s eyes darted up and caught Mackenzie’s big blues. “It’s not that far away. We can make it work. I want you—us. I’m just—” She huffed and rolled her eyes. “I know all of what you said is true, but I’m not ready to give up on big law. I was so close to making partner—” She cut herself off with a choked breath, and Elliott ached for her, because Elliott knew she had been. The Jenkins case should have been her crowning jewel—her one-way ticket to partner. Mackenzie didn’t finish the thought. They both knew what she hadn’t said. She lifted her glistening eyes to Elliott’s. “So I’m not done. Not yet.” She squeezed Elliott’s hands. “I don’t—can’t, I mean. I can’t finish it this way. It would feel⁠—”

“—like you failed?”

Mackenzie’s mouth pulled up in a lopsided, sad sort of smile. “Kinda, yeah.”

Elliott pulled Mackenzie by her hands until she was cradled tightly against her chest. “You haven’t failed,” she murmured into Mackenzie’s soft hair. “But I understand.”

Elliott’s mouth opened of its own accord, but her brain intervened and stopped the other words—that she so desperately wanted to say—from escaping. That she loved Mackenzie. That she didn’t want to do long distance. That she wanted to stay in Seattle with her. That this was real. This was it. That, for Elliott, the sun rose and set with Mackenzie’s smile. That her heart raced with the sound of Mackenzie’s laugh. That Elliott couldn’t study Mackenzie’s eyes or the faint lines in her face without almost succumbing to the overwhelming urge to reach into her mind to understand and know everything. Anything. About her.

But she didn’t say any of it, because Elliott wanted Mackenzie to know—really know—that Elliott supported her in every single one of her dreams in the same way Mackenzie supported Elliott with hers. Even if those dreams kept them apart for a time. So she swallowed the words with the knowledge that if she wanted the dream, she’d have to have it without Mackenzie physically with her for now.

Elliott had to laugh at the irony. Even after all was said and done and this file from hell was out of their lives, they still had to accept whatever small part they could have of each other.

It was the universe’s cruelest joke—bringing them together only to keep them apart.

“So, what do we do now?” Mackenzie’s question was so soft and vulnerable. Elliott loved that about Mackenzie—in one breath so confident and sure they could make it work—so willing to walk into the darkness with her eyes closed if it made Elliott feel better. And then in the next breath, so comfortable being vulnerable when she needed help understanding how they were going to work it out. Elliott loved it, and that feeling took hold and squeezed her heart until it threatened to burst.

“We work it out. I’ll come here; you’ll go there. It’ll all work out. If you want.” Elliott was impressed by how blasé she managed to be about the prospect of physically separating herself from a person who was as essential to her well-being as a limb or an organ.