Chapter 16 #2
"Hi," she managed. "I came to watch the game. Sophie and Ellie invited me. You were good. Amazing, actually. I didn't know, I've never seen you play before."
Mac was staring at her like she might disappear if he blinked. "You came to my game."
"I did. I know I said I needed time and well but—" Rachel's words tangled together. "Can we talk? Somewhere private?"
Mac looked at Cole, who nodded once, some silent communication passing between them. "The rink. We can go back inside. It'll be empty now."
The ice arena was eerily quiet without the crowd, just the hum of the cooling system and the echo of their footsteps. Mac led her to the stands, and they sat in the same section where Rachel had been watching, surrounded by empty seats and discarded popcorn bags.
"You played well tonight," Rachel said finally.
"Thanks." Mac's voice was careful, guarded in a way it had never been with her before. "I didn't know you were here. I wouldn't have seen you anyway, I don't usually look up during games. Too focused."
"You've been distracted at practice this week, I heard."
"Yeah. I have been." Mac looked at her directly for the first time. "But I figured tonight I should probably focus on hockey since that's apparently what I'm good at. Being intense. Being too much."
Rachel flinched. "Mac—"
"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty," Mac interrupted quietly. "You were right. I am intense. I do feel things… bigger, and I show it. That's how I'm built. And if that's too much for you, then—" He stopped, teeth grinding. "Then that's okay. I get it."
"You're wrong."
Mac blinked. "What?"
"I wasn't right. You were." Rachel forced herself to meet his eyes. "Watching you tonight, seeing you out there, that intensity isn't too much. It's who you are. And it's... it's beautiful."
Mac's expression shifted, softening. "Rachel—"
"My ex kept me at a distance. Made me feel like an accessory." The words came faster now, easier. "You did the opposite. You introduced me to everyone important to you immediately. Made me feel like I mattered. And that terrified me because it meant this was real."
"So you pushed me away before I could hurt you."
"Yes." Her voice cracked. "Except I hurt you instead."
Mac was quiet for a long moment. "I missed you. These past four days. I'd pick up my phone to text you about stupid things and then remember I couldn't."
"I missed you too."
"So where does that leave us?"
Rachel took a shaky breath. "I want to try again. But I need to actually let you in this time…."
"I can be patient. I won’t hurt you, you know."
"You can't promise you won't hurt me," Rachel interrupted gently. "Nobody can promise that. But I think you're worth the risk."
Mac's eyes were bright. "Are you sure? Because if you're not ready."
"I'm not ready. But I don't want fear to stop me from something good." She reached for his hand.
Mac took her hand immediately, lacing their fingers together. "So we try again?"
"We try again. Slower. With more communication."
"Communication is good. Very mature." Mac's lips quirked. "I googled 'how to date someone with trust issues' at 2 AM every night this week."
Rachel laughed despite the tears on her cheeks. "You did not."
"I absolutely did. There were articles. Forums. A very helpful YouTube video."
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm thorough."
They sat there, hands clasped, both of them smiling through tears.
"Why did you come tonight of all nights?" Mac asked.
Rachel thought about the four days of emptiness. "Because missing you felt horrible."
"And?"
"And you were amazing out there. Free." She squeezed his hand. "It’s your world, and I want to be part of it, Mac. All of it."
Mac pulled her closer, his arm sliding around her shoulders. Rachel let herself lean into him, breathing in soap and ice and something uniquely Mac.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
They sat watching the empty ice.
"So," Mac said finally. "Second chance. Start over or pick up where we left off?"
"Pick up where we left off."
"I can do slow, you know?" Mac turned to face her fully, and suddenly the air between them felt charged.
"Though right now, I really want to kiss you."
Rachel's lungs seized. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. If that's—"
She kissed him.
Cut off his rambling with her mouth on his, her hand sliding up to cup his jaw. Mac made a surprised sound, almost a laugh, before his arms came around her, pulling her closer.
It wasn't gentle, it was four days of missing each other, of misunderstanding and reconciliation and relief. Rachel's fingers tangled in his hair, still damp and Mac's hand pressed against the small of her back like he was afraid she might disappear.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Mac rested his forehead against hers.
"So," he said, slightly breathless. "Not too fast?"
"Don’t talk," Rachel said, and kissed him again.
This time it was slower, deeper. Mac's thumb traced her cheekbone, gentle despite the intensity of the kiss. Heat pooled in her stomach, as Mac's other hand slid into her hair.
They broke apart again, and Mac looked at her with dark eyes and a slightly dazed expression.
"Wow," he managed.
"Come back to my place," Mac said suddenly, the words tumbling out. "Just for a little while. I don't want to say goodnight yet."
Rachel knew it was probably a bad idea. Knew going back to Mac's apartment right now, with this electricity crackling between them, was asking for trouble.
"Okay," she heard herself say.
Mac's eyes went dark. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. But Mac—" She stopped, trying to find the words. "I'm not ready for... everything. Not yet."
"That's okay." He kissed her softly. "I just want more time with you. That's all."
MAC'S APARTMENT - 20 MINUTES LATER
They made it through the door, and for a moment they just stood there in Mac's entryway, the reality of where they were suddenly very present.
"Do you want something to drink?" Mac asked, his voice slightly nervous. "I have water, or—"
Instead Rachel kissed him. This kiss was different from the ones at the rink. More urgent. Mac's back hit the wall, and Rachel pressed against him, her hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders.
"Rachel—" Mac's voice was rough. "Are you sure about this?"
"I'm sure I want to kiss you." She looked up at him, her heart pounding. "Is that okay?"
"That's very okay." Mac's hands found her waist, pulling her closer. "Come here."
He kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against hers. Rachel made a soft sound, and Mac groaned in response, his hands moving from her waist to her back, pressing her flush against him so she could feel every inch of him.
They stumbled toward the couch, neither willing to break contact. Mac sat down and Rachel followed, climbing into his lap without thinking, straddling his thighs. Mac's hands immediately went to her hips, holding her there.
"Is this okay?" Rachel asked breathlessly.
"God, yes." Mac's voice was wrecked. "Very okay."
They kissed again, and Mac's hands slid under her sweater, warm against her skin. Rachel arched into the touch, rolling her hips, and felt him hard beneath her. Mac's grip tightened on her waist, a strangled sound escaping his throat.
"Rachel—" His voice was strained. "You're killing me."
"Good." She rolled her hips again, deliberate this time, and Mac's head fell back against the couch with a groan.
Rachel's hands found the hem of his shirt, hesitating. "Can I?"
"Please."
She pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and for a moment she just looked at him. Mac, shirtless and flushed, muscles defined from years of hockey, looking at her like she was everything.
Her hands traced his chest, his shoulders, the curve of his arms. Mac watched her with dark eyes, his breathing uneven.
"Your turn," Mac said, his hands on the hem of her sweater.
Rachel nodded, and Mac pulled it off carefully. His eyes went dark as he took her in, in just her bra and jeans.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You're so beautiful."
"Mac—"
He kissed her before she could protest, his hands on her back, pulling her against him so she could feel the warmth of his bare skin against hers. Rachel's fingers slid into his hair as she kissed him deeper, grinding down against him.
Mac's hands roamed her back, then slid up to cup her breasts through her bra. Rachel gasped against his mouth, arching into the touch.
"Is this okay?" Mac asked, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through the fabric.
"Yes—" Rachel's voice broke as he did it again, the sensation making her hips roll involuntarily.
Mac's mouth moved to her neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there, and Rachel's head fell back, a moan escaping. His hands continued their exploration, learning what made her gasp, what made her grip his shoulders tighter.
"I've been wanting to do this since our first date," Mac murmured against her skin. "Wanted to touch you, learn what makes you make those sounds."
"Mac—" Her fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth moved lower, kissing along her collarbone, then lower still to the swell of her breasts above her bra.
His hands moved to her back, finding the clasp of her bra. Rachel nodded, unable to form words.
Mac unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms. For a moment he just looked at her, his eyes dark with want.
"God, Rachel—" His hands came up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, and Rachel's back arched, pressing into his touch.
"Please—" she gasped, not even sure what she was asking for.
Mac took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, and Rachel cried out, her hips grinding down hard against him. She could feel how hard he was through his jeans, and the friction was making her dizzy.
"You feel so good," Mac groaned against her skin, his hands gripping her hips, helping her rock against him. "So fucking good."