Chapter 20
MACKENZIE
Icouldn’t breathe.
I felt that kiss between Heather and Max like it had happened to me. Heather’s lip gloss was on his mouth. He didn’t stop her. How long did it take him before he pushed her away?
So, they were fucking. It was apparent they knew each other well.
Heather sat back like a cat with blood in her mouth. Max looked sick. Guilty. But the damage was done.
My throat was tight. My heart thundered in my chest like it wanted to escape.
I didn’t want to cry in front of him, but when I felt the tears in my eyes, I looked away quickly. I loved him, and this hurt. So much more than I could’ve imagined.
“Truth or dare, Mackenzie?” Heather asked, a smug smile on her lips. I wanted to punch her.
“Dare,” I said, my voice dry, wobbly.
Heather paused and said, “I dare you to kiss Jackson.”
Silence dropped over the group. Max tensed next to me. I felt it in my bones. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way. This was his chance to say something. To do something. To prove that I was his.
My pulse pounded painfully in my ears. I should’ve said no.
I should’ve laughed it off, rolled my eyes, or told him to get lost. But the image of Heather on Max’s lap haunted my mind, more vivid than ever.
I was drunk, hurt, blinded by a pain that cut deeper than jealousy.
Everything was so blurred, so uncertain—I didn’t know what to do, only that the ache was so overwhelming I couldn’t imagine us ever going back to being friends after this.
I stood up and walked over to Jackson, who had moved next to the cooler.
Every step felt like a betrayal of the distance I had built with Jackson and the relationship I was starting with Max. But I kept moving.
Jackson was already smirking, a sinister gleam in his eyes. When I reached him, he leaned back on his hands, his cocky demeanor masking something unsettling.
“Are you sure, baby?” he whispered, his tone now edged with menace. I hated it when he called me baby. “Wouldn’t want to upset your little boyfriend.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to do this. But the burning jealousy inside me drove me forward.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I spat out.
I grabbed the front of Jackson’s shirt like I had done so many times and was about to put my lips on his when a pair of strong hands grabbed my waist.
“This isn’t fucking happening.” The voice was deep, full of rage.
Before I could react, my feet were off the ground. Air rushed past as the world flipped, my stomach slamming into a stiff shoulder. The impact punched the breath from my lungs, a startled gasp tearing from my throat.
The ground swayed below me, distant and tilting, as I realized where I was. I was draped over Max’s shoulder, his arm secured around my legs.
I clawed at his back, staring down at the forest floor as he hauled me away like I weighed nothing.
“Put me down!” My voice cracked, more desperate than defiant.
“No,” his grip tightened, his breath rough against my side. “I’m not watching you self-destruct like this. Not with him.”
My chest constricted.
The woods devoured us entirely as he dragged me deeper into the darkness, the night oppressive and silent except for the ragged sound of our breathing, growing frantic and uneven.
We pressed on until we reached the old trail marker, a shadowy relic in the gloom.
I looked at the tattered sign stapled to the tree, “Don’t go off the trailhead,” it read.
He released me abruptly, but held tight to my hand, his grip trembling. His eyes flashed wild and unhinged, quivering as if he thought I was mad at him.
“I didn’t mean for that kiss to be—, I mean, I wasn’t okay with Heather kissing me,” he said, his voice small, almost regretful. He was stuttering, consumed by rage and jealousy, more drunk than I thought he was.
That was what he was apologizing for? I tried to think through the drunken fog in my brain, but I was pissed that he had kissed her, but not as pissed as I was about him intruding into my life and finding out my secret.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he spat out in broken words, his speech slurred. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
“Are you serious right now, Max?”
MAX
She waved her hands around, flustered, shrinking into herself again like she constantly did when things got real. There was no way I was allowing that fucker near her again, no fucking way. Not after everything I just heard them talk about.
I was done with him.
She wrapped her arms around her chest, closing me out.
“Don’t fucking shut down on me,” I spat out.
She wasn’t doing this to me. Not this time. I needed her to tell me everything: how she felt, what she was thinking. Everything.
“Max, I can’t believe you know. How the fuck do you know?” She was shaking with nerves, drunker than I realized. Her eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, brimming with tears.
My mind was going a mile a minute. I was on the edge of losing it, feeling like I was about to burst out of my own skin, trying to find a way to say, “I’ve hacked into your life.
It’s because I love you. I do. I know your dad is a serial killer, and you’re in the Witness Protection Program.
And hey, my dad is CIA and has known who you are my whole life, and we’re probably being watched right now, and we’re in some weird game that I don’t understand.
And oh, our meeting seven years ago was probably part of an FBI plan. ”
It sounded insane. Fucking insane. I was going insane… for her.
“It doesn’t matter, okay?” I said. “ I want you to know that it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what has happened to you. I mean, I care—Fuck, this isn’t coming out right. I’m drunk.”
My brain felt like it was sloshing inside my skull. Mackenzie was swaying like she was on a boat. She was just as drunk as I was, if not more.
“I… I… I just can’t do this with you. I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this!”
She ran her hands down her face, clawing at her neck like she wanted to tear her throat out. She started to back away from me, but I caught her by the wrist and held her in place.
“Don’t leave,” I hissed. She rolled her eyes and then gave me an exasperated look.
“I’ve spent my whole life living in secret, and I’ve been told that if anyone finds out about me, it puts my mom and me at risk. Shit. Max. How the hell did you find out? I need you to tell me the fucking truth!”
“I… uh… I…” I was stumbling for words. I didn’t know how to break it to her. I didn’t know that what I had done would jeopardize her safety. I was a fucking idiot. I had let my obsession with her take over everything.
“Forget it,” she said flippantly, watching me struggle to figure out what to say. “I don’t know how Jackson even knows. I’ve told him nothing. I’ll probably end up getting sent away again, with a name change…”
She was crashing out in front of me.
“No, no, no, no. I can’t lose you.” I grabbed her by the shoulders, bending my head down a bit so I could look straight into her eyes. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”
She looked at me then, incredulous. “I’m not figuring out anything with you. You really hurt me tonight. How could you do something like that to me, especially after knowing everything I’ve been through?”
“Don’t play that game with me,” I snapped, letting her go. “Heather kissed me! I didn’t kiss her back.”
“Why would you even allow it, after everything we’ve been doing together?”
“I’d never fucking cheat on you. I wouldn’t. I’m faithful to you. Heather basically raped my face.”
She looked away, unable to keep her eyes on mine.
“We’re not together,” her voice was small. “It wasn’t cheating… at least I don’t think. It just… hurt to watch.”
That was a slap in the face. I didn’t know what she wanted. One minute she was all over me, and the next I was just a friend.
“You’re so unclear on what you want,” I snapped.
“My thoughts have been pretty clear, Max,” she deadpanned, looking me straight in the eye with a cold, callous glare.
We had always been able to read each other’s thoughts. But not this time. She was so hot and cold. I had no idea what she was thinking these days. I mean, I had to basically read her damn journal to see how she really felt about me.
The heat in my face grew as my anger started to boil over. I’ll admit, I was a hot head. I struggled with my anger issues. When I was drunk? All bets were off.
I snapped.
“I’m not a mind reader. Tell me you fucking want me. Use your words like a big girl.”
She blinked as if I’d crossed a line, and maybe I had. But I didn’t care. I saw the fire ignite in her eyes. Trouble was stubborn, fiercely independent, and hated being bossed around. Whenever she felt challenged, her fire emerged.
I saw it now: a quiet determination set her features, her jaw tightening, her eyes blazing as she took one step towards me.
“If you talk to me like that again, I’m going to grab your balls and squeeze them so hard you’re going to squeal like a pig,” she said with the bitchiest tone of voice I had heard from her this summer.
And I was fucking into it. This was the Trouble I wanted.
“Mmm. I’ll probably like that because I’ve been imagining your hands on my balls every goddamn minute of the day.”
Her mouth twisted. “Not happening. Whatever this was? Over.”
“You think so?” I let out a short laugh. “Good. I can finally be put out of my misery then.”
My voice was loud, really loud, and I was matching her drunken sway with my own. I looked around us. It was dark, the moonlight beaming down on us. I instinctively took one step towards her, trying to shield her.
She was quiet, not saying anything, but I could see her bottom lip trembling. I started to pace. I wanted to be more romantic in my words to her, but I was fucking pissed, actually.