Chapter 18
That night, I wait until Mack has had three of my world-famous tacos before I tell him. My mom died young, but she still passed along a few tips. "Choose your timing," she would say. "A man's more likely to be agreeable if he's well fed."
I clear my throat and dive right in. "I went to that address in Haven today."
Mack freezes for a split second, then resumes eating like he didn't hear me, but I know he did. I don't know why I feel nervous. It's not like I did anything wrong. Except the guilt in my stomach says differently.
"And?" he finally says.
"It was a guy that Alex plays video games with. Hugh Danvers."
"I know of Hugh." He blots his mouth with a paper napkin. "He's the biggest weed dealer in the county."
"I did feel like getting drive-through after meeting with him," I admit.
Mack turns to me, his eyebrow arched. "You smoke up with him?"
"No.” I shake my head. “At least, not intentionally. It was a joke."
Mack grunts and resumes eating his taco.
I don't know why, but his lack of anger makes me feel even more guilty.
"I just wanted to see if Alex was there," I say, sounding defensive despite my resolution not to.
"I take it he wasn't."
"No."
"Did you learn anything useful?"
"Just that Alex was supposed to meet up with his group to fight a bad guy online." I tell him the rest of it in detail.
"Out of curiosity, why did you pretend to go to work today if you were actually going to see Hugh?" he asks.
"I thought you might insist on coming along."
"Would that have been such a bad thing?"
My mouth twists to the side as I consider his question.
To be honest, I'd hid my plans instinctively. Having him staying here is a huge change for me. I’m used to taking care of things myself.
And even though Mack has been nothing but nice and actually super helpful, it still feels weird to hand over any ownership of this situation to someone else.
"I barely know you," I say lamely.
"Is that the reason? Or is it because you're used to being in control of everything?" he asks.
"Im not in control of anything." I huff a laugh. "If life's taught me anything, it's that none of us are really in control, even when we think we are."
"So then what's the deal?" he says. "You think I would have tried to stop you from going, or what?"
I shrug. "I don't know."
"Look, I realize I showed up on your front porch with a dog and moved in. But if you truly don't want me here, I can be gone in ten minutes. I thought I was doing a nice thing."
"It is nice," I say. I feel a hundred times safer with him here. With Mooch here, too.
"Do you want me to go?" Mack asks, eyebrows raised.
Good gravy, is he actually going to make me say it? I stare at him, my mouth slightly ajar. Apparently, he is going to make me say it. Mack waits patiently as I fumble with my thoughts and try and come up with words.
"No," I finally say, settling on the truth. "I don't want you to leave."
"Alright then."
He faces forward once more, taking another bite of his taco.
I frown. To be honest, I feel like I lost something in that exchange. Power, maybe. Or that aforementioned control Mack mentioned. I wrinkle my nose. Is it really that simple? That I'm so used to having to be in control that now I don't know how to share control with anyone?
And if that's the case, how did Mack figure it out approximately five minutes into knowing me? I peer over at him, my eyes narrowed.
"What?" he says, swinging those eyes back to mine.
"Just wondering if you're a secret stalker."
"Huh?" he asks, still chewing his bite.
Typically, I find it disgusting when people say anything with food in their mouth, even when they do it so you can't see what they're eating. But with Mack, for some reason, I find it cute.
Oh no, it's step two on the crush scale--finding things cute that you used to find gross!
"What did you mean by that?" he asks, once he's finished chewing.
"Just that you seem to have me all figured out and I barely know you."
He shrugs those massive shoulders. "It's not so hard to figure out if you're paying attention. Your parents died while you were still young. And while I'm sure your Grandma did a great job, you can't convince me that some of that parenting burden didn't shift onto your shoulders."
I don't argue with him, 'cause it's the truth.
"I didn't mind helping with Alex," I say. "It wasn't ever supposed to be Grandma's job to begin with."
"It definitely wasn't supposed to be yours."