Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
GRACE
I open the driver’s door and stalk down the sidewalk, eyes frantically searching the inside of the only car left on Main Street Lewistown besides Blue. Trash lines the back seat. Chip bags, empty cigarette packs, and the thing I wasn’t wanting to find.
Joel’s tattered cap.
Fuck.
Buzzing starts up in my pocket.
I slide the phone out.
Unknown number.
Double fuck.
I stare at it, rage burning its way up my core and flooding my limbs. This shit ends now.
“Who is this?” I snap into the phone the second my finger slips the answer bar across the screen.
“Hello, Graceless.”
His voice sends fear skittering down my spine and bile surging up my throat.
“How did you get this number?” I hiss out.
“Oh, you know. Small towns and all.” He’s chewing something. Most likely gum. “Nice jacket, by the way.”
I whip my head around, needing to see between the shadows. But the street is deserted. As I’m about to give up, something moves in the darkness mere feet from where I stand.
My throat closes over, stealing the air from my lungs. I smash a finger on the screen and shove the phone into my pocket, grappling with Blue’s door handle. After what feels like an age, the door pops open and I throw myself into the seat.
I start her up and screech backward in reverse before throwing her into gear and taking off down Main Street. I fly through the gear changes, heading for the outskirts of town, only releasing a breath and sucking more into my burning lungs when I clear the last set of lights and turn onto the highway, no Volvo in sight.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”
I slam my palms onto the steering wheel, regretting that decision as the freezing hard plastic bites back.
“Sweet Jesus,” I moan.
Why is he doing this? Why can’t he leave me alone?
I send Blue into the darkness faster than I ever have before. This is not happening. How on earth am I supposed to tell Mack that Joel is here? And his visit is far from friendly. I’m of half a mind to let Mackinlay deal with him. No... that’s not what I wanted. Not what I asked for. Not the strong and independent woman type I’m wanting so badly to become.
What would Ruby do?
What would Louisa do? I’ve yet to witness her darker side. Anyone with eyes can tell she wears the pants. In a household of men, nonetheless. I get the feeling that when one of her own is threatened, she comes out swinging. Guns blazing. Much like her son. I see elements of Louisa in Mackinlay. The fierce loyalty. The protectiveness. The open heart.
I glance in the rearview mirror. Only darkness folds in behind me. No headlights. I release a choppy breath. As much as I want to face Joel, I don’t want to be in a mindset of less than, or of fear. Not anymore. Never again with him or any other man.
The second I walk through the front door, Mack’s arms wrap around me.
“How was your first class?” he says into my neck.
Something divine hits my senses. He cooked supper. He smells better than the food. I run a hand through his damp hair. I suck in a wobbly breath, composing myself. Mack cooked, showered, and is holding me close. Just what I need, after?—
He breaks away, holding me at arm’s length now. “What happened?”
His brows lower, mouth parted. Worry lines those deep blues.
“I—” I can’t lie. Even aching for this to not be real, I won’t lie to Mack. “Joel’s here.”
His face falls, slackening with a semblance of shock before setting hard. His jaw ticks as he pulls me back into his chest. I huff out a breath, body squeezed tight. Like if he holds me tight enough, nothing can hurt me.
“Please tell me he’s only passing through?” he growls beside my head.
“I’m not sure.” His presence was anything but innocent. He literally waited until I was alone on a dark street. Parked his car in front of mine. A mindfuck. Then the jump-scare of the century. His voice replays in my mind. “Hello, Graceless.” Grating my nerves a second time.
The fear I had convinced myself was a knee-jerk reaction on the way home spikes again. Now, with a little retrospect, I realize he’s taunting me. This is only his first play. I run through every sad memory I have still burned into my mind from our life in Raymond. The controlling. The anger. Each time his hands found my body, seeded by anger or lust. Sometimes both.
Staring at the wall over Mack’s shoulder, I can’t help the tears that burn and flood my eyes. I grip his shirt tight. “I got out,” I utter. “I left.” I’m reminding myself more than anyone else. Still, my heart racks up a swift pace with the terror of that part of my life coming back to haunt me. Coming back, period.
Mack groans, a guttural, emotional sound. A fresh flood of tears streams down my cheeks. I sob into his shoulder. His body shakes against my own. The pain I feel hurting him as much as it does me.
His hand runs over my hair. He whispers trembling words, his breath hitting the shell of my ear. “He can’t hurt you anymore, Gracie. I promise you.”
I asked Mack to let me handle this. To not swoop in and save me like I know he wants to. But I’m not strong enough.
I will always be broken.
My father’s voice echoes in now. “You made your own choices. This is what you chose , Grace.”
Like any woman would ever choose this.
I whimper as my knees give out. Mack lowers me to the ground, pulling me into his lap and cradling me. His hard shell around my vulnerable broken one. At least for this moment. I thought I was going to be able to hold it together. To do this for myself. For Mackinlay.
I can’t.
I’m scared.
Hopelessly needing to be free of who I was before.
I was doing so well.
Sobs rack through my chest. My eyes burn. My lungs void of enough air, spots filter into my vision despite my eyes being closed. I slump against Mack’s warmth, curling into myself. Clutching his shirt like it’s the last lifeline I have. Somehow, I know he is.
Something drops onto my head. Then another something. Moisture sinks into my hair, hitting my skin. I quiet, stilling as I listen to his breathing.
A groan claws up his throat. His Adam’s apple works fast. The veins in his neck pound quickly. Tears create a sheen over his stubble. I look up to his wrecked face. This stoic, kind, amazing man is falling apart with me. For me. I push up, fingers wrapping around his jaw, pulling his face down to meet my gaze. “Mack?—”
I haul in a breath and whimper. “Mackinlay, I’m o—” I slump my forehead to his. “I’ll be alright. I’ll be alright.”
He groans, staring at me. It’s raw. Unrefined pain released in one single sound. His shattered, quick breaths have him distraught. I stroke his face with my trembling hands and sniff back the tears. Seeing him this way straightens my spine. I push down my own demons before they take him under, too.
No way.
I won’t let them touch him.
“Breathe, Mackinlay,” I whisper.
He pulls in a lungful, and his face softens. I don’t let his dark blue gaze sway from mine, my palms planted on his face. I study him, taking in the strongest, bravest person I have ever met. And the way my suffering destroys him?
This is what real love is.
When everything is shared.
The good, the bad.
The pleasure, the pain.
“Gra—” He sucks in a lungful. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I press a light kiss to his mouth. He tilts his head, allowing me more. My hands trail down his neck. I ground myself before looking back up at him. With a lone finger, I trace the curve of his bottom lip. His breathing settles, only to bottom out again with my touch. I plant my knees on either side of his lap. “Never be sorry for loving me this much, Mackinlay.”
His face cracks a little and he schools it back. “Seein’ you hurting is like having my insides ripped out. Worse than anything I’ve ever felt.” His voice is no more than a rasp.
I have never loved another person the way I love this man right now. It’s so strong, so beautiful between us that it downright hurts.
We love, we hurt.
We fight, we hurt.
We breathe, we hurt.
It’s the agony of something otherworldly that I’m certain not many find. The kind of ache that lets you know you’re alive. Comforted in the fact you’re the most important person in the whole world to the other. Sweet, sweet agony.
I trace my fingertips over his jaw, his lips, his nose, and across his forehead. He closes his eyes. His breathing settles, and I readjust myself on his lap, my distraught body now softened to his, with heat pooling low in my belly. The emotions concentrate to one point, pulling me closer to him. His hands grip my hips. I follow his gaze as it studies my face before dipping to my lips.
“Supper can wait,” he rasps.
I chuckle softly. “Yes, it can.”
He smashes his mouth to mine. I open for him instantly. I’m his. He is mine. With the baggage between us, the sentiment means so much. The hurts we have both overcome.
His hand slips under my button-down shirt, thumbs skittering over my ribs then find my aching nipples. Hands around his throat, I press closer. Somehow, no matter how intimate we are, I can never get close enough to Mack. I tug his shirt from his back, wanting more of him. Needing to love him. The overwhelming yearning to bring this man the soul-shattering exaltation he gives me drives my hunger.
“You wanna move, gorgeous?”
I shake my head, too desperate to care we are on the floor in the middle of the living room. Planting kisses down my neck, his hands work my clothes free, sinking down until his mouth closes over my hard peak now aching for the tug he brings. I arch into him as he gives me everything I want. He knows me so well. Plays every achingly sweet spot in my body with his fingers, his mouth...
His rigid length rubs into my wet, thrumming center. I grind on him, needing the pressure on my clit. Needing him inside me, I claw at his shoulders.
“Mackinlay, more. I need more.”
Now.