Chapter 14
Mac
Mac and Rachel walked through downtown Evergreen Cove. The evening was cool but pleasant, spring definitely in the air.
"Your friends are nice," Rachel said finally.
"They can be a lot," Mac admitted. "I'm sorry if it was overwhelming."
"It's fine."
There was that word again. Fine.
"Rachel—"
"Mac, can I ask you something?" She stopped walking. "Why did you invite me to meet your whole team? Officially? Like... like we're a couple?"
"Because we are dating. And they're important to me, and you're important to me."
"But Mac, that dinner felt like... like you were presenting me. Like we're serious. Like you're all in already."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It's terrifying. Everyone asking about my plans, Luke asking if I'm staying long-term, Jamie joking about you being distracted... They were treating us like we're already something permanent. After a few weeks."
The words hit like a physical blow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"I know you didn't. That's part of the problem. You don't realize how intense you are. How much you feel things." Rachel pressed her lips together, steadying herself before she spoke. "And I can't—"
"Okay." Mac's throat felt tight. "Okay. I can slow down. I can—"
"Can you though?" Rachel looked at him, and there was something almost sad in her eyes. "Because everything about you is... big. Big feelings, big gestures, big flowers, meeting the whole team so early. You're all in already, and I'm still trying to figure out if I can even do this."
"Are you saying you don't want to see me again?"
"I'm saying I need to breathe for a moment." Rachel's voice cracked slightly. "I thought I could do this. I thought I was ready. But tonight, sitting there with all your friends treating us like we're a couple, asking about my future plans, everyone so invested, it reminded me of before."
"This isn't that. I'm not—"
"I know you're not him." Rachel said it firmly.
"I know that. But Mac, you play hockey. You're part of this tight-knit team in a small town where everyone knows everyone.
Your whole life is public on this scale.
And I came here to be invisible. To not be 'poor Rachel' anymore.
To just... exist without everyone watching. "
"No one's watching—"
"Sophie texted me three times during dinner asking how it was going.
Mrs. Henderson called me yesterday to ask what I was wearing tonight.
The barista at the coffee shop asked if I was 'the one dating Mac the hockey player' this morning.
" Rachel's voice rose slightly. "Everyone's watching, Mac. That's what small towns do."
Mac’s world was tilting. "So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I need time to think." Rachel took a step back.
"How much time?"
"I don't know."
"Days? Weeks? Because Rachel," Mac stopped himself before he could say something that would make it worse. "I really like you. So tell me what you need and I'll do it."
"That's exactly the problem." Rachel's laugh was bitter. "You're willing to change everything about yourself to make me comfortable. That's not healthy, Mac. You can't mold yourself into whatever you think I need."
"I'm not."
"You are. And it's too much pressure. I don't want to be responsible for you changing who you are. I don't want to be the reason you're walking on eggshells or second-guessing everything." She looked down at her hands. "I think maybe this was a mistake."
Mac's heart stopped. "What?"
"Tonight. Saying yes. Dating you. I'm not ready. I thought I was, but I'm not."
"Rachel, please—"
"I'm sorry, Mac. I am. You're wonderful. Really wonderful. But I can't do this right now." She pulled out her phone. "I'm going to call an Uber. You should go home."
"Let me at least drive you—"
"No." The word was firm. "Please respect that."
Mac stood there, watching her order a car on her phone, feeling everything he'd hoped for slip through his fingers. "Can I text you? Later this week?"
Rachel hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"So that's it? We're done?"
"I don't know. I need time to figure out what I want. And you need to figure out if you can actually slow down or if this is just who you are." She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "Because if it is, if you're always going to be this intense, I don't think I can handle it."
A car pulled up, her Uber.
That was fast.
"Rachel—"
"Goodbye, Mac." She got in the car, and Mac watched it drive away, her silhouette disappearing into the night.
He stood alone on Main Street, the cool April air suddenly feeling freezing.
His phone buzzed. Jamie.
Jamie: How'd it go?
Mac stared at the text for a long moment, then typed back.
Mac: I don't know. Bad, I think.
Jamie: Want to talk about it?
Mac: No
He walked to his truck, climbed in, and sat there for several minutes before starting the engine.
He'd pushed. Asked for more than she could give. And now Rachel was pulling away, maybe permanently.
Mac drove home slowly, replaying every moment of the evening, trying to figure out exactly where he'd gone wrong.
His phone buzzed again. This time it was Cole.
Cole: Ellie says Rachel seemed overwhelmed. Don't text her tonight.
Mac: She said she doesn't want me to text her at all.
Cole: Shit. I'm sorry man.
Mac: Yeah. Me too.
He pulled into his driveway, turned off the engine, and sat in the darkness.
Puck would be waiting inside, judgmental and demanding dinner.
But out here, alone in his truck, Mac let himself feel it, the crushing disappointment, the fear that he'd ruined something before it began, the horrible realization that maybe he was too much.
Maybe Rachel was right to walk away.
Maybe he didn't know how to do this at all.