Chapter 16 #2
Addie nodded, satisfied. “You’re really good at it.”
Mac didn’t answer. She just picked up her phone and glanced at the screen.
Connor saw the name. Paula Katz.
He watched her face change, not dramatically, not enough for anyone else to comment. But he saw it. The way the ease drained, replaced by something measured and contained.
Connor swallowed and watched her thumb slide over the dark screen. A decision not to reply.
He didn’t ask.
When Addie jogged back toward the yard, Mac lingered by the hoop, bouncing the ball once more before tucking it under her arm.
Connor pushed off the railing and met her halfway.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth, and she didn’t owe him the rest yet.
She slid the phone into her pocket without saying more, and Connor felt the choice in it. Not avoidance. Selection. Not now.
He watched her for another beat, the way she kept her shoulders loose even with something tugging at her attention, and something in his chest shifted.
They stood together for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night settling back into itself. Fireflies flickered near the fence. Someone inside the house laughed too loudly.
Connor thought about what he’d seen—not just the missed shots, but the way Mac handled them. The honesty. The refusal to pretend. The way she gave his sister something solid to stand on without ever making herself the center of attention.
He knew, suddenly, with a clarity that surprised him, that whatever Mac chose next would matter.
Not in the way people’s choices usually mattered. Not as a loss or a win, not as something to measure.
Just as a direction.
He found himself wishing for her to be somewhere she could wake up without bracing, without checking what was required of her before the day could begin.
He hoped that there might be room in that future for him. And that scared him more than he expected.
And if there wasn’t, if what she needed pulled her somewhere else, he knew he wouldn’t want to be the reason she chose against herself.
That mattered.
Connor didn’t say any of that.
He stayed where he was, listening to the night settle around them, the murmur of voices from the yard, the soft thud of a ball being set aside, the hum of cicadas rising as the light faded.
Something had shifted. Not dramatically. Not in a way anyone else would notice.
But enough.
And whatever she chose next, he knew this much: their relationship wouldn’t be simple anymore.
They walked home under a moon that felt almost staged—too bright, too round, hanging low over the quiet street as if someone had placed it there.
The night had thinned the sounds of town. Crickets stitched the silence together. A screen door banged somewhere down the block. Laughter drifted from a house they passed, muffled and fading as they moved on.
Mac climbed the steps to her porch and turned, the breeze brushing strands of hair back from her face. The light from the street caught Connor’s profile, softened the edges.
“Thanks for inviting me,” she said. “Tonight was…good.”
He smiled, easy. “The walleye was solid.”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “Not just the fish. Everything.”
Before her mind could inventory the reasons to slow down, she stepped closer. Her hands slid up around his neck, familiar already, and she rested her forehead against his shoulder. He smelled like clean soap and smoke and summer night. Lake air. Charcoal. Something sweet she couldn’t name.
His arms came around her without hesitation, but she felt it, the subtle shift in him. The moment he chose to ask.
“Hey,” he said softly, the word barely more than breath. “Earlier. When your phone went off…”
She didn’t pull back. “Yeah?”
“You seemed…pulled somewhere else.” His thumb brushed lightly at her waist, not pressing. Just there. “Everything okay?”
“It was my agent,” she said. “Contract details. Timelines. Numbers she’s pretty sure she can get, if that’s a route I want to go.”
What she didn’t say was the other part—the part Paula had slipped in almost casually.
That there were people asking questions now.
Not about whether she could still play, but whether she could see the game.
Whether she could read it out loud, in real time, without needing to be the one on the floor.
Paula had asked for her permission to keep her name in circulation.
Mac hadn’t said yes. She hadn’t said no. She’d just let the idea exist, unsettled and unfinished.
Connor nodded, the movement slow, thoughtful. He didn’t rush to fill the space.
The pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It settled between them, open and unthreatened.
“Not tonight,” she added, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. “Why ruin a beautiful evening talking about contracts and contingencies that might not even matter?”
Connor nodded easily and changed the subject.
He was good at that—stepping back when someone made it clear the door was closed.
Mac felt a mix of relief… and something else she didn’t want to name.
She leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, a smile curving at the corner of her mouth. “I can think of better ways to spend our time.”
Something warm flickered across his face before he caught it. His hands settled more firmly at her waist, steady and sure.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
His mouth found hers, unhurried, warm. A kiss that didn’t rush ahead of itself. Just presence. Just choosing this moment and staying in it.
When they finally pulled back, the porch light hummed softly above them, the moon still holding its post like it wasn’t going anywhere.
Mac rested her forehead against his, breathing him in.
She wasn’t going anywhere either. Not tonight. Not from this.
Right now, she was exactly where she wanted to be.