Chapter 3
MACKENZIE
Present Day
Iwas eighteen the summer everything changed. And, like always, it started at Camp Blackshear. The only place that felt like mine. A refuge. A world untouched by the chaos I was born into.
And it was the only place I saw Max.
He’d be there waiting like he always was. Same crooked smile, same laugh that could crack through my worst days. We never needed to catch up. We just picked up where we’d left off, as if the rest of the year was just one long pause.
We lived three hours apart and had our own lives outside of camp. But at Blackshear, it was just us.
I counted down the days like I was in prison. Agent West and my mom had locked me out of the normal teenage world, and isolation became my default state. I still didn’t have a cell phone or social media.
“Digital thumbprint remains confidential,” West would say, like I was a classified file, not a girl.
My father was still out there, somewhere in the darkness.
I hadn’t seen him since the night of the fire, but I could feel him lurking, like a shadow pressing cold and heavy against the back of my neck.
I knew nothing about that night. My mom refused to tell me.
It was all a black, shifting fog in my mind, a part of my life erased, forgotten.
The only sign it was real was the nightmares—haunting visions of the things he used to do—things he forced me to do.
The FBI still watched us, like silent, black-vested shadows in the corners of my room.
It was unsettling, nerve-wracking, and every time I asked my mom about it, she only shook her head and whispered, ‘Not now.’
They’d been stitched into our lives for so long, I barely remembered a time without them.
Agent West was always there, hovering at the edges like he belonged to us, like he was our family.
In a way, he was. I sometimes saw him as a dad.
His son, Jeremy, also became part of our lives.
He slept over and ate at our table. More like a brother than a friend.
It was normal in the way that only things you never question can be normal.
But I knew it wasn’t. Not really. My story had changed. I lived by rules no one my age had to live by. And even though I pretended not to notice, I did. Especially when Jeremy would flaunt his iPhone in my face.
“You’re a loser,” he had said, texting his girlfriend. He was five years older than me and liked to remind me about it.
“Shut up,” I had said back, trying to kick him in the balls. “I’m going to punch you in the face.”
“I’d like to see you try, little sis,” he had laughed, flipping his black hair back and walking off.
I wanted to know why I was the only teenager in my entire fucking town that wasn’t normal.
But with Max, the feeling of the unknown faded. He made me forget I was a ‘federally protected asset’, as West said. With him, I was just Mackenzie. My life hadn’t really started until I came to Blackshear and met him.
We talked almost every night on my stupid landline. We talked about everything. He told me about his high school baseball championship game. He was a good player, and his dad made him practice with a coach who had played in the MLB.
“You think you’re going to become a professional baseball player? Am I going to get front row tickets?” I had asked him.
“You know it. I’ll sign my jersey for you.”
He had sounded so confident. I tried to replicate his confidence, but I had more of a crippling anxiety disorder.
When we didn’t talk, we wrote letters as if it were 1995.
Max’s letters were filled with doodles and dumb jokes, while mine were filled with random pictures I thought he’d like.
He swore he kept them all, saying I was his favorite artist. I wasn’t sure if I believed him, but he’d pinky promised. And Max didn’t break those.
We even had friendship bracelets. Our tether to a summer filled with friendship.
But as camp crept closer, I couldn’t shake the ache of knowing this would be our last summer together. College was waiting, pulling us toward different paths.
One night, while painting my nails and listening to Creep on my stereo, we talked about everything and nothing. Vanderbilt came up; his dad was pushing for it. Max pretended he didn’t care. Then, out of nowhere, he said:
“What are you thinking about?” His voice was deep now, really deep. But it still held that same aloofness: funny, goofy, just Max.
“How I can’t wait to see you in a few days.”
I heard his smile over the phone before he spoke.
“Me too. I can’t believe we get to be in the same counselor group this year.”
We had been counselors since we had turned sixteen, but had never been placed together. I loved that we would finally get to lead a group together for our last summer at camp.
“I know,” I laughed. “Whoever decided that hasn’t met us yet.”
I was met with complete silence on his end. In my defense, I wasn’t a comedian, but he usually would at least entertain me with a small laugh. He seemed pensive; I could tell that he was deep in thought.
“Do you think it’s weird to think we’re leaving soon?” I asked to cut the silence.
“Every day.”
A pain clutched my heart when he said that, and I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. I couldn’t imagine a life or a summer without him.
“Do you think your mom would let you apply out of state?” he asked. “I know you already got into GCU, but maybe?”
I laughed bitterly. “Hell, no. Georgia only. You know that.”
What I didn’t say was that I needed FBI clearance to leave the state. Max had no idea about my life. It was a secret I had kept from him throughout our entire friendship.
“I’d be cool to see you every day.” Max’s voice broke me out of my thoughts.
Something in his voice, soft, almost hesitant, made my chest tighten.
“You got into GCU, too, you know. You could always come.”
“I know,” he said softly. And then, “You know, the guys give me such a hard time at school about you.”
I could almost see him rolling his eyes.
“Why? Because they know I can beat you up?”
“That was one time.” He paused for a beat. “You haven’t seen me in a year. I’ve changed.” He got quieter and said, “I’ve dated a few girls this year. I’m cool now.”
I could hear the laughter under his words, but that news landed like a splinter under my skin. I told myself it was fine. I’d dated too. But hearing him talk about them made something cold and unfamiliar curl inside me.
Max had dark, tangled hair that he wore under an Atlanta Braves baseball cap.
The light sprinkling of freckles covered his cheeks and the tip of his nose.
His blue eyes were constantly hidden by a bright red sunburn that reddened whenever he smiled or laughed.
He was tall now, maybe 6’3”, and his body was lean, like a baseball player.
The girls had been eying him more at camp, but he always ignored them. Too focused on kayaking, hiking, or just being Max. It was always just him and me. Bonnie and Clyde, we always said.
I couldn’t imagine him being any different.
But apparently, he was different. And girls were noticing. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given that he was always so funny and kind. But I didn’t like that he had kept his dating details from me. I tried to keep my jealousy at bay. But I was jealous.
Because he was dating someone. Because he hadn’t told me.
“Look at you. Guess I’ll have to start training if I’m going to keep up with Max McKinnon, thirst trap in the making.”
“Careful, Trouble.” I could hear his mouth tilting into a half-grin. “You’ll be lucky if you get to see me in one.”
“Oh, so you’re admitting it?”
“Please. I’m fucking hot as hell.”
“Oh, sure. Who lied to you? You’ve dated the entire senior class, now, right? Those girls must be blind.”
“I’m selective, Trouble. I only pick girls who can keep up with me. And trust me, they aren’t blind.”
“So, what happened? Did they tap out or realize how big a nerd you are?”
“Maybe I’m just waiting for someone who can actually challenge me,” he said. His tone sharpened just a touch. “Someone who doesn’t get bored the second things stop being easy.”
I raised a brow.
“Someone who will make me beg,” he added. I could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “I like being on my knees.”
I blinked; once, twice, three times.
“Wow. Cocky much? I hope those aren’t the one-liners you’re using on those girls because it sucked.”
Heat crept up my cheeks. This was the first time he’d ever made a sexual joke like that.
He scoffed. “Please. I don’t talk to them like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t get it,” he said quickly. Then, quieter: “They’re not you.”
I laughed. “Max—”
“Don’t laugh at me, Trouble.” His voice lost the teasing edge. “They seriously make fun of me. They lose interest immediately. Like I’m something they tried on and decided didn’t fit.”
He paused, then added, almost too casually, “You don’t do that.”
I shook my head, ignoring that comment, but my pulse skyrocketed. Was I… actually nervous around Max McKinnon?
“Why? You have a tick?”
He laughed.
“No, I tell them I have a girl best friend from summer camp, and they think I’m lame.”
I could hear him saving his video game, the familiar click that meant he was getting ready to turn in for the night.
I didn’t like him talking about those girls. The feeling surprised me. I’d never felt territorial over him before, but now it sat heavy in my chest. It wasn’t that I wanted to claim him—just that the idea of anyone else having him made my stomach twist, and that realization unsettled me.
I was starting to feel a bit… possessive.
And the worst part? It sounded like I wasn’t alone in that feeling.
“That’s because they don’t get it,” I said. “I’m awesome.”
“Yeah, you are,” he laughed. Then, softer like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, “You’re my favorite person.”
Something in my chest tightened. I wanted to say, ‘You’re mine too.’ But the words hovered there. Saying them would change something, and I wasn’t ready to know what.
So I laughed instead.