6. Chapter 6
Talmage
B utterflies swirl around in my stomach as I wait for Mack at her locker. It’s the last day of school before Christmas break, and I was up much later than I should have been so I could get this little project done for her.
I hear her laughter before I see her, and the nerves increase.
I hope she doesn't think this is weird.
The minute she turns the corner, her smile widens, and she skips over to me, wrapping me in a hug.
I melt into her embrace—something that’s become a habit when we see each other. Hugging her is the best part of my day.
“I’ll never get tired of your bear hugs,” she says when she pulls back. “I should call you Bear, since you call me Firefly.”
“I feel like bears would scare fireflies. Maybe even eat them. Do you think they eat fireflies?”
Her friend snickers, and Mack’s cheeks turn red.
What did I miss ?
“Um, maybe. I don’t know what bears eat.”
“Fair enough.” I hold my hands out and give her the newspaper wrapped package. “Merry early Christmas, Firefly.”
She gasps as she takes it. “Tal, I didn’t get you anything!”
“I don’t need anything. It’s not much, obviously, but I was hoping it’d make you think of me over the break.
“I always think about you, silly. But thank you. Do you want me to open it now?”
“No, you can open it when you get home.” I don’t need her to open it in front of her friends and see the private, sappy things I’ve written to her— about her.
Or the drawings I’ve sketched of her as a princess again, only this time, I’m next to her, dressed as a knight.
My knee is bouncing uncontrollably, and my palms are sweaty as I wait for Mack inside Valley Baker.
I’ve had the biggest smile on my face since Wednesday night when she agreed to lunch. Enoch and Nathan have been teasing me mercilessly since our encounter at the grocery store.
Enoch pointed out that Mack looked… uneasy when we were talking, but if she were uncomfortable with me, she wouldn’t have agreed to come to lunch with me.
Right?
She’s probably hesitant because of our history and—
My leg stops bouncing as realization hits me.
Does she feel obligated to meet me? Am I just bothering her and bringing up more hurt by asking her to have lunch?
Shoot. Am I a bad person?
I’m about to text her to tell her she doesn’t need to come if she doesn’t want to when the front door opens and…
A literal angel walks in.
The sun shining behind Mack makes her red hair glow like an ember—it’s how she earned the nickname “Firefly” when we were teens—and casts her in an ethereal glow. It may be chilly outside but seeing her makes my whole body heat up.
The breath is knocked out of my lungs—I need an oxygen mask stat.
I swear I’ve never seen someone so beautiful.
She waves at me with a tight-lipped smile, kicking me into gear.
I shake off the way my pulse thunders in my ears and stride towards her, stopping myself short of wrapping her in a hug.
I have the strongest urge to feel the curves of her body pressed against mine, but I have a feeling I need to take things slow so I don’t scare her.
“Hey, Mack. It’s good to see you. You look amazing.”
She glances down at her body, at the black skinny jeans and denim shirt she’s wearing underneath her winter coat, and she scrunches her nose in that adorable, familiar way. “Thanks? It’s good to see you, too.”
Gosh, she’s cute.
“Ready to order?” I motion to the counter, and she steps in front of me. I don’t look down at where the curve of her butt meets her thick thighs. Okay, maybe I do. Just quickly. Not in an objectifying way, I swear.
“It’s been a minute since I’ve been here. What do you like?” I ask as she studies the menu board.
“I’m simple. I like the turkey and provolone with tomatoes and banana peppers. I love their twice baked potato soup, but they only have it on Wednesdays.”
I make a mental note to pick up some twice baked potato soup for her on a Wednesday sometime.
Hmmm. I’ll need to get her address so I can deliver it. I wonder if she still lives in her childhood home.
“It is pretty good. Only second to my mom’s creamy potato, but I’m biased. Have you ever tried their breakfast sandwiches or their French toast?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve only been here a handful of times in a pinch before a shift at the bar, so I’ve only had their lunch and dinner options.”
“We’ll have to come back for breakfast sometime,” I say without really thinking it through. I’d love to have a breakfast date with her, though.
I feel the overwhelming need to see her as soon as she wakes up.
What does she sleep in? Does she braid her hair or let it be loose and wild across her pillows?
Is she grumpy in the morning, or is she a happy riser?
I bet she drinks coffee now. I wonder how she likes it.
There are all sorts of fancy coffee drinks, right? I wonder if she likes her coffee fancy.
Mack doesn’t respond as the cashier waves us forward and takes her order. She pulls her wallet out to pay, but I step up next to her and push her hand down with mine.
I swear there’s a shock of electricity when our hands touch .
Maybe I’m just staticky. That happens when the weather is as dry as it is in Utah.
“We’re together. Well, not together together but I’m paying for lunch.”
Mack frowns. “Tal, I can—”
“I know you can, but I want to. Please.” She called me Tal!
That’s progress! It means she’s not as uncomfortable as I thought, right?
Mack huffs and shoves her wallet into her pocket again, stepping away so I can order. I get a chicken salad sandwich and a bag of chips, tacking on an extra drink for Mack since she didn’t order one.
The scowl on her face when I hand her the empty cup is so freaking cute, I have to bite my lip to suppress a smile. She’s like a little ticked off kitten.
I don’t think she’d appreciate it if I said that out loud.
We fill up our drinks and find a booth in the corner of the restaurant away from the people here for their Saturday lunches.
When Mack takes off her coat, I see her arms aren’t covered by long sleeves, and I get to admire the ink I’ve only seen in pictures.
On her left arm is a hodgepodge of mushrooms, moths, and multitude of different florals filling in the blanks. On her right are delicate roses and leaves. Both arms are inked from her shoulder to her wrist.
They’re stunning, just like her.
When I finally look up at her, her cheeks are pink, and she crosses and uncrosses her arms, rubbing her hands up and down them before placing them in her lap .
“They’re gorgeous,” I blurt out, startling both of us. I motion to her tattoos.
“Oh, uh, thank you. Lizzie did most of them.” The pink on her cheeks turns darker.
“Oh, that’s cool. Did they hurt?”
“Not really.” She shrugs.
“What about your piercings?” I wave a hand in the general direction of her face.
“The one that hurt the most is my conch.” She moves her hair and shows me a gold hoop through the middle part of her ear. “Well, no, that was the second most painful. My—never mind. Uh. They didn’t hurt as bad as I thought they would. Each one gets easier.”
I really want to know what she was going to say her worst piercing was. She has the two in her nose and a few in her ears. I didn’t see her other ear, so maybe there’s another piercing that hurt worse?
Maybe her belly button is pierced. That would probably hurt really bad.
“That’s cool. I’ve never thought much about getting my ears pierced. What do you think? Could I pull off some shiny gold hoops?” I hold my hands up like I’m showing off my ears, and it pulls a small smile from her.
Win.
Her eyes dart around my face before she shrugs. “I think you’d look hot with a piercing.”
Now it’s my turn to blush. If I didn’t work at a station that prohibited jewelry, I’d be looking up the closest piercing shop.
One of the workers brings over our food, and Mack and I tuck in. I feel like time is slipping by too fast for me to actually ask her any questions. I don’t know if she’ll agree to have a meal with me again. I need this to go well so she wants to hang out with me again.
“Why do you work two jobs?” I ask, then immediately regret it when she chokes on her sandwich.
After she takes a sip of her drink and is no longer choking, she gives me a sad smile. “Do you want the short answer or the long one?”
“The long one, obviously.” I would listen to her talk for hours.
“Harper has Type I diabetes. Her glucose monitoring is expensive, plus the bi-annual doctor’s visits.
We had a little bit of money from my parents’ life insurance policies and my dad’s retirement, but we had to spend a good chunk of it to pay for the funeral.
I want the girls to have good college funds and a nest egg for their futures.
I work two jobs so Harper can live and have as normal of a life as possible. ”
My heart breaks for Mack. She’s sacrificing so much for her sisters. I admire her resilience, but I wish she didn’t have to work so hard.
“Doesn’t your job offer insurance?”
“Yes, but it’s not nearly enough to cover everything. The system kind of sucks for diabetics.” Mack shifts in her seat, rubbing her hands on her thighs.
“I’m sorry, Mack. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through the last five years.” I reach across the table and grab her free hand. “I’m sorry I never reached out when your parents passed. I didn’t know about it until recently. I wish I had known sooner so I could have helped or-or—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts with another sad smile. “If you didn’t know, it’s not your fault. I probably wouldn’t have accepted your help even if you offered. Besides, we hadn’t talked in nearly a decade. I didn’t expect you to reach out.”
I can tell she really, truly means that, and it stings a little.
She’s right, though. I didn’t reach out.
Not because I didn’t want to. I just didn’t know.