MAC
The fire of betrayal burns my skin to ash. My fingers curl into my palms, the sharp nails digging into my skin. It keeps me from falling apart as my brother closes the front door softly behind him. My gaze returns to Jake. For the first time I notice the dark circles that lie beneath his eyes.
“How much did you hear?” he asks.
I run my tongue along my lips. They’re dry and in desperate need of lip balm. “Enough,” I tell him, stepping off the stair and toward the kitchen where my handbag rests on the counter.
“Mac.”
Ignoring Jake, I reach for my bag and rummage through the contents, not finding any. “Goddammit, where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“My lip balm,” I mutter, my chest feeling tight. Why is it so hard to breathe right now? Am I having a goddamn heart attack? “Everyone’s always bloody stealing it,” I gripe. My lungs squeeze as I grab the bag and upend the entire contents over the bench top.
Crap scatters everywhere: bits of paper, lipsticks, pens, tampons, and my current sheet of birth control pills. “It’s not here!” I half-shout, spreading my hands through it all in a frustrated search.
“Mac!” Jake shouts.
I shove it all off the counter, my chest heaving as I fight for another breath. Everything clatters to the tiled floor and scatters every which way.
My shoulders are grabbed in a vice and Jake gets in my face, shaking me. “Stop it!”
“I can’t,” I gasp.
“You can!”
“I can’t! I can’t breathe!” I press a hand to my chest. “I’m too young for a heart attack. I’m too young.” A few wheezy pants escape my mouth. “This is my brothers’ fault. They’ve gone too far now. Too far.” I jab a finger in Jake’s face to emphasise my point. “And now I’m going to die.”
The world tilts as Jake picks me up, cradling me to his chest. My body jostles as he walks us to the living area. “You’re not going to die, Princess.”
God, my chest hurts. “I am.”
“You’re having a panic attack.”
That’s insulting. I look down my nose at him. My tone is imperious but its effectiveness is ruined by my wheezing. “Fuck you, I don’t do panic attacks.”
Jake has the audacity to look amused. “You’re doing one right now.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I. Am. Not,” I enunciate.
We reach the couch and he sinks down, bringing me with him. His arms tighten around me like a steel band. The tight entrapment usually has me straining to disentangle myself and he knows it, but instead I feel cocooned, as if anyone trying to get to me will have to break Jake apart first.
“You’re bottling everything up inside you.” He touches his nose to mine. “This is your body’s way of trying to get rid of it. Let it out.”
Let it out, he says, as if it’s just that easy. I almost snort, but I’m basically doing that anyway as I suck oxygen in through my nose.
“If you don’t let it out, I will instead,” he warns me.
I can’t let it out. I buried it deep long ago. It’s sealed in a vault where there’s no escape.
We stare at each other for a long, painful beat as he waits.
I give him nothing so Jake does the talking for both of us. “I was wrong,” he admits. “I let you go and I was wrong.”
My eyes close. It aches to hear his confession. He was wrong. We should have stayed together, no matter what.
“Breathe, Mac,” he orders.
My chest is burning. A harsh rasp of air leaves me as I open my eyes.
Jake keeps talking. “I watched you walk down those steps. Not once did you look back. I betrayed your trust and in a single instant, I was wiped from your life. I didn’t realise how much it would hurt. It fucking hurt, Mac.” Jake shakes his head, his eyes distant. “But at the same time I was so proud of you. Your back was so straight as you walked away from me and toward the car. So true. Like the edge of sword.” His gaze finds mine. “That’s what being with you is like, Mackenzie Valentine. One wrong move and you feel the blade slice you wide open, so swift and clean it’s done before you see it coming.”
“You let me go, Jake. Why would I stay?”
“The baby.”
Fire burns my throat. “You think I would honestly keep something like that from you? I was going to tell you, but you didn’t give me the chance. And when you gave me up so easily, I realised you didn’t deserve the chance.”
Pain reaches his eyes. “You think I gave you up so easily?”
My response is a stony stare.
“I haven’t slept a proper night since. Every damn night I lie in bed and all I see is you walking away from me. I work myself to exhaustion hoping that just once there’ll be a night that my head hits the pillow and I’m out cold, but it never happens. And now…” Jake swallows hard “…now I see you walking away carrying my child and it kills me.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask, for the first time being able to force the question past my lips.
“Why did I …” Jake trails off. A grim whoosh leaves his lungs. His hold loosens; one arm lets go to rub over the short buzz of hair on his head.
Seeing his struggle makes me wish I could retract it. I fight his embrace, realising I’m not ready to hear the answer. To hear him say “I didn’t want you.”
He turns his head, his voice firm in my ear. “Don’t.”
I still, unable to look at him.
“Please.”
JAKE
“You were everything to me, Mackenzie.” A lump fills my throat. “You always were. You always will be. That’s why you had to leave.”
“Don’t give me that convoluted, cryptic bullshit, Jake. I get enough of that from my family.”
Mac is fighting so hard to hold herself together. After everything we’ve been through, I owe her the truth. The real reason I sent her away. But I’m scared. It will change the way she sees me. Forever.
“Give it to me straight,” she demands, her chin jutting out. She’s bracing for the hit.
So I give it to her like a neat shot of whiskey. “I killed someone.”
Mac scrambles from my lap and the loss of her warmth is sharp. She rounds on me, her eyes wide with shock. “Jake.”
“I shot a defenceless man in cold blood.”
It’s finally out there. I feel no better for it. Admitting what I’ve done to the person I love above all others just about breaks me.
Mac is looking at me as if she doesn’t know who I am. I’m a stranger to her now.
“Why?” Her voice is sharp, almost shrill. “Why would you do that?”
“He wasn’t supposed to die!”
I stand and she steps away from me. I’m already losing her.
“I got caught up with some bad people, Mac.” I shake my head, feeling sick. “The King Street Boys. I never wanted you involved. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things that earned me a lot of money. The cost of my father’s care was something I couldn’t afford. Not when I was sixteen fucking years old.” I scrub hands over my face. Frustration rises until I’m drowning in it. “He can’t even talk properly!” I cry. “How was he supposed to fend for himself? I know it’s not an excuse, but I felt I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice!” she screams, fury burning red streaks high across her cheekbones.
“I didn’t!”
“You could have come home! You could have talked to me. To my parents. We could have worked it out!”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re right.” Her eyes are like ice now. “I don’t.”
My hands clench, itching to take hold of her and force her to understand, to bridge the gaping fracture in the earth between our feet. It’s opening wider with every breath she takes.
“And the man you killed?” Mac asks, her voice stony.
“They were testing me. They wanted to be sure I’d take orders. So they gave me a gun. It was supposed to be empty. At least Luke thought it was, but it turns out it wasn’t,” I say, my tone bitter. “And a man died. That made me a murderer, Mac. And they knew it. They bought my loyalty to the gang with fucking murder.”
Mac swallows and shakes her head as if my words are incomprehensible. And they are because it’s been years and I still can’t comprehend them either.
“Then you show up out of the blue in Melbourne, and I knew you couldn’t stay. It wasn’t safe. But I wasn’t strong enough to make you leave. So I had the great idea to get out.”
“And they didn’t like it,” she says, smart enough to put the puzzle pieces together.
“That night at The Bar was their warning. Leave and we won’t just shoot you, we’ll shoot your girlfriend too. So I rang your brothers and the next morning you were gone.”
Mac wraps her arms around herself, hugging her upper body. It makes me ache that I can’t do that for her. “You could’ve told me. Instead you kept me in the dark. You made the decision to get rid of me.”
“They would have killed you!” My shout is so loud she flinches. Why can’t she see that I was just trying to keep her alive!
“I can take care of myself!” she shouts back. “You’re just like my brothers. You think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t.” Her entire body is trembling now. I take a step toward her, and she steps back again. “You have no idea!”
“I’m sorry,” I implore. “I was young, Mac. And stupid. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You thought,” she throws out. Her voice is harsher than the black coffee she drinks. “You. You. You. What about what I thought?”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I was wrong.”
Mac tilts her head back. An abrupt laugh leaves her lips as if my apology is ludicrous. The sound dies out and she shakes her head. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Her eyes fill and she blinks. “What a goddamn clusterfuck.”
Emptiness engulfs me. Coming clean was the right thing to do, but at what cost? “Can we just put this behind us and move forward? I know it won’t be easy, but we have time on our side. I love you.”
Mac steps back again and the fracture at our feet is so wide now I fear it irreparable. “There’s no moving forward, Jake. Only moving on.”
She turns and plucks a set of car keys from the bowl by the door. Then she leaves without speaking another word.
The duplex settles into painful silence. The kind so loud it roars in your ears. I sink back on the couch, trying to convince myself it doesn’t hurt. That maybe she’s right. Moving on might be the only way.
The front door flies open with a bang.
My head jerks up.
Mac is standing there, eyes on me. Her mouth opens and closes. “I …”
Hope rises in a heady rush. I stand.
Her eyes darts to the kitchen, her body skittish. “I forgot my bag.”
“You don’t need your bag.”
Her brows soar high. “I don’t?”
“No. Because you’re not going anywhere.”
“Jake.” She shuts the front door behind her and moves on legs that appear unsteady.
Give me something, Princess.
Please.
Anything.
“I love you too.”
The impact of her words hit so hard my eyes close for a second. I absorb them like the warm summer sun on a cool blustery day. How can she still feel the same knowing what I’ve done? I don’t deserve it, but I don’t care. We’ve gone through too much and come too far for me to not grab that love with both hands.
Mac is still there when my eyes open, her declaration lingering in the air between us. I close the distance and grasp the lapels of her leather jacket, pulling her against me. Her hands cup my cheeks and I mash my lips down on hers. Heat shoots straight to my belly.
Mac doesn’t hold back. Her mouth is warm and eager. I part her lips with my tongue and sweep inside with aggression. My hands loosen on her jacket. They slide underneath and span her ribcage.
The kiss feels endless yet it’s not enough. I draw back, giving us a moment to breathe. Her hands slide from my face and she moves backward. My arms fall away. The expression on her face gives my gut a jerky twinge.
“No, babe. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” I demand, my voice hoarse. “Right now.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I love you, but I can’t do this,” she whispers.
“You can,” I argue. My anger grows until I fear my chest will explode.
Mac holds her head high. “I’m sorry, Jake. Too much has happened. Too many lies and secrets. I can’t get past it. I just can’t.”
I breathe deep, fighting for calm, but I lose. “Goddammit!” I roar.
Mac flinches.
I turn and kick the small side table beside the sofa. The force has it skidding across the floor upending against the wall near the stairs. One of the legs splinters on impact. It doesn’t ease the rage and frustration. Grabbing the glass bowl off the cabinet by the door, I throw it across the room. It smashes against the wall and punches a hole in the plaster before shattering into a rain of glass shards across the floor.
“Stop it!” Mac shouts, her voice piercing the red haze.
I’ve never had anything worthwhile apart from music and Mackenzie Valentine. But I’m a fool, because I never had her. It seems destiny has decreed I never will.
I try to say something, anything, but words stick in my throat.
Mac speaks instead. Her tone is soothing. “Remember that summer when we were kids and we snuck up on Mitch and Eli in the backyard with the hose?”
Of course I remember. It was hot as blazes, and Mac still had that damn cast on her arm. She couldn’t swim in the pool and every shower required her wrapping it up in garbage bags. We wrapped it up again after lunch and lay under the sprinkler on the front lawn to cool off. Mac had been in the throes of planning a revenge attack against Mitch. He’d tipped out her new, expensive shampoo a week earlier and filled the bottle with dishwashing liquid. Her hair resembled straw for two days afterward until Jenna had him coughing up hard-earned pocket money to pay for a deep-conditioning treatment at a salon.
It hadn’t eased Mac’s bitterness. She was busy griping as we lay on the lawn, drops of water sprinkling intermittently over our bodies. Then an idea hit me. Mitch and Elijah were seated at the table out the back, frantically pulling together their summer essays at the last minute before school started back. I suggested we hose them.
So we did. Creeping around the back of the house, Mac hid behind the hedge of shrubbery while I stood by the tap waiting for the signal. Turning the dial to jet and taking aim, Mac touched her earlobe and then held up two fingers telling me she was good to go.
I twisted the tap and ran, reaching her side just as she turned the hose on Mitch full force. The blast had loose papers and books flying off the back table in a flood of complete and utter devastation.
The fury Mitch turned our way should’ve set our hair on fire. He stood like the Terminator, eyes red with a vengeance that would not be stopped. Mac had muttered an “oh shit” and dropped the hose, leaving it to gush water over the grass.
Grabbing her arm, I dragged her off until we were running around the side of the house, our hands clasped tightly together and laughter tearing from us until my eyes blurred and my sides hurt.
Mitch chased us all the way down the street before finally giving up. When we eventually risked returning, we found he’d locked us out of the house. We sat side by side on the front stoop waiting until Jenna returned home from work.
“We sat on that damn stoop for over two hours as the sun set,” Mac says, pulling me from the memory, “wet and getting colder by minute.”
“I remember,” I mutter gruffly.
“I jostled your shoulder and you looked at me. The colours of the setting sun were bright in your eyes, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You laughed at me and I realised I was staring. Then I told you that I’d never had so much fun or felt so free as I did when I was with you. That you were my best friend.”
The lump in my throat is huge. “And I said that you were my best friend too. The only real friend I ever had.”
Mac’s head tilts back. She’s desperately blinking back tears. When she has them under control, her eyes return to mine. “I want to go back to that. I love you, Jake, but I need time. Time to be your friend again like we used to be. Can you give me that?”
She’s right. There have been too many secrets. Too many lies. Betrayal. And so much hurt that we both need time to mend the wounds. As much as I want to be with her, we can’t force the healing process.
“Okay,” I croak and hold out my hand. “Friends?”
The front door flies open as she’s taking my hand in hers. “Friends.”
We shake on it.
“Holy shit!” Cooper announces from behind Mac. He’s staring at us, at our joined hands, and then back at us. Frog steps in beside him.
Both of them take in the scene before them, which includes smashed glass, splintered furniture, and the contents of Mac’s handbag strewn about the kitchen.
“Holy shit!” Frog exclaims.
I let go of Mac’s hand. The smooth warmth of her palm slowly slides away from mine as we ignore our friends. My lips curve because for some reason it feels good. Like we’ve been through a wild cyclone and were standing in the aftermath. Survivors. Mac’s lips curve in response.
“Has Armageddon arrived?” Cooper bleats as he walks further inside, hands on his hips as he inspects the damage.
“I don’t know,” Frog replies, “but I feel all wrong. Like I stepped inside an alternate universe in some kind of monumental cosmic accident.” He actually steps back outside and looks to the sky, eyes searching.
“What?” Cooper says. He walks out to stand beside Frog and looks up.
“I’m checking for a tear in the fabric of time.”
Cooper scratches his head. “Isn’t that for time travel? I thought a parallel universe was like radio waves or something.”
Mac clears her throat. “I’m going to go visit Evie at the hospital.”
“Alright.” My gaze sweeps over the evidence of my tantrum. “I guess I’ll clean this up.”