Chapter 17
It'd been painful to ease myself out from under Macy, not just because of the contortion required. She'd needed the sleep, and I'd needed to get back to work. It hadn't been an easy conversation to have, and I'd had a feeling I'd known exactly what the explanation would be as soon as I found the ID, but I'd known that I needed to have the conversation with her as soon as I could.
The fact was that I hadn't been able to take not knowing more about her. Screwing her out in the woods had just reaffirmed to me that this thing between us was more than just a favor, and it was more than just sex, even if it was the best sex I'd ever had. And me being me, I'd known that I couldn't just let things lie and let her open up to me in her own time, so I'd gone digging.
It hadn't taken much effort to find the ID in her stuff, and the feelings that had flooded me as soon as I saw it had staggered me.
I'd long since started operating under the assumption that most people had something to hide, and that was especially true of women who had come from situations in which they'd been battered … but I couldn't help feeling I'd been betrayed by her in some strange, subtle way.
I didn't blame her. She'd hadn't owed me or anyone else the truth when she'd escaped for her life. But that didn't change the fact that I still wished she'd been able to tell me the truth about it.
I went over to my desk and started working again, trying to lose myself in the steady rhythms of the website securities I'd been able to find before. I was able to make it work, but I couldn't stop thinking of the woman who slumbered on the couch behind me and what she'd revealed.
The thing was that I'd gone into her room because I'd wanted to see whether it would be safe for me to open up to her more. And on some level, I knew that it would be and that I should.
I would. I knew I had to. It would be better for everyone involved if I did.
I heard a groan from behind me and turned around to see that she was turning onto her back, her eyes fluttering open as she did.
"You're up," I said, turning back to my computer.
"Yeah—I'm not really sure what that was," I heard her say as she fought back a yawn, climbing off the couch. "Sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" I asked, turning back around to look at her.
"Because we were in the middle of a conversation, and I fell asleep." She was leaning forward over her knees and rubbing her eyes. For a second, I was tempted to go over to her and kiss her fully awake, but I held myself back.
"I think we covered the most important parts," I said.
"If you say so." I heard her stand up and go over to the kitchen, starting to look around. "Do you want some lunch?"
"Yeah, if you wouldn't mind." I gave her a smile. I already felt miles away from where we'd been this morning, but I also felt like I needed her to be sure of me and who I was.
She smiled back at me, the look tentative, before going into the kitchen and starting in on lunch. I heard her moving a few things around and starting the burner on the stove before I smelled the amazing aroma of cooking onions. My stomach growled in response, and I did my best to concentrate on my work for the next few minutes before I heard her say, "Come and geddit."
I laughed as I put my computer to sleep and got up to head over to the island. "Come and geddit?"
"Do I sound like I'm from Tennessee yet?"
"Sorry to say it, but not even close."
"Dammit."
I edged up to the plates and practically started salivating when I saw the sandwiches she'd made, toasted bread with sliced roast beef, caramelized onion, melted cheese, and pickles on the side.
"These look amazing," I said, taking my seat on the stool and digging in. As I took my first bite, I tasted the slight heat that sat on my tongue as an undercurrent and turned to her. "You used white buffalo sauce?"
She shrugged. "I tasted it and figured that it would go well with the beef."
"Are you some kind of genius?"
She grinned at me. "I'm happy you like it."
We ate for a little while, making small talk about our favorite restaurants and things to make. She told me about the epic failure of a cake she'd made for her mom a few years before, and I told her a little about the skillet cookies I used to make for Patrick for special occasions.
That is, until I realized what I was actually talking about and shut the story down as quickly as I could.
It wasn't enough to quell her curiosity, though.
"Patrick is your nephew, right?" she asked, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of learning more about me.
I shrugged, picking up the dishes from lunch and taking them over to the sink. "Not biologically. He's the son of one of my friends in Nashville."
"Must've been good friends if you made him skillet cookies every time he had a soccer game and a bad day and a birthday."
"I guess." I couldn't tell her about Neil and about how he'd been the brother I'd never had. And about Jackie and what a mother hen she was, and how I was the first person they'd told when they found out they were going to have Pat.
"You guess?" I could hear the annoyance in her voice, and I knew I deserved it. It was the perfect opportunity to open up to her about everything.
I turned back to her, shrugging. "Pat's dad was someone I worked with."
"He was someone on the force?"
I gave her a curt nod.
"Does he have anything to do with you quitting?"
I swallowed and didn't answer before I turned away from her and started to rinse off the plates.
I continued until I saw her hand reach around me, shutting off the water. "You know, you can talk to me," she said softly. "I've been told I'm a pretty good listener."
Again, I didn't answer as my hands tightened on the edge of the sink.
"Did he die? Is that what's going on?" Her voice had gone so quiet that I could barely hear her.
I turned back to her and asked her, my voice tight and strangled, "Why are you asking these things?"
"Because I want to know about you. Just in case you hadn't heard, that's how it sometimes works when two people start sleeping together."
I bit down on my lip, unable to say anything back to her. I knew she was right. I knew I needed to say something to her. I knew that the truth I'd been keeping inside me for the last few years about Neil was eating me alive.
She put her hand on mine and folded her fingers under. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it."
"But why would you want to?" I didn't know where the words were coming from, and I knew they made me a dick, but I couldn't help myself. "Why would you want to dive into my bullshit? It's dark, and you've already been through enough."
"One could say the same of you, with you diving into all of my bullshit despite all the shit you've been through." She pulled her hand away from mine and marched away, folding her arms over her chest and looking at me, frustrated. "Oh wait, I can't say the same. Why? Because you haven't told me anything about the dark shit in your past. You're just taking it for granted that I shouldn't hear about it."
I knew she was right, knew that she could handle whatever I had to tell her and that I could trust her if she said she could be told.
"This isn't personal, Macy."
"It sure as hell feels personal. What am I supposed to feel when you won't tell me anything about yourself?"
"It's not you. No one knows me, and I prefer it that way. I haven't let anyone get close to me in years."
"Neither have I, but I'm trying not to wall myself up because I know that if I do, I'll never be the same again. So you're going to spend the next sixty years embittered and alone until you die that way, is that it?"
But I just shook my head, looking away from her and turning on the sink again.
"Right." She stepped away from me, heading for the hallway. "Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind. And since I can't leave, you know I'll be there for sure."
The words dug into me, and I almost turned to her and asked her to wait… but then I heard the door shut behind her as she went into her room and knew that I just needed to let it lie for a while.
* * *
Ipulled into the market in town, still feeling sick to my stomach over the argument that I'd just had with Macy and wishing that I'd just been able to talk to her.
I was a true idiot, and I would deserve it if she refused to talk to me after this.
I walked into the market, trying my best to shake off the uncertainty of the last hour, and started looking around. Except, I didn't know what exactly I was there for. I only knew that I'd had to get out of the cabin, or the silence in there was going to drive me crazy now that there was an alternative.
I started pushing the cart around, grabbing things at random for a few different dinner ideas. I wish I could've texted her and asked her whether she wanted to make anything in particular, but… no phones.
"Dillon. Didn't think I'd see you in here today."
I turned at the voice and saw Hank standing behind me, giving me his crooked smile. I grinned back for a second before turning to the produce.
"What's new? Is—" He looked from side to side, ensuring that no one was watching us before turning back to look at me. "Is the girl—"
I shook my head at him quickly. "We're not going to talk about it here." Or anywhere, if I could help it. I wasn't about to put Macy in harm's way, not for anything.
I stared at him hard, willing him to get the hint, until he nodded. "Understood."
As far as I could see, Alex wasn't in the store, but I wasn't going to take any chances as far as who he'd gotten to and who might be looking for her.
When I got to the front of the store, I was taken by surprise by the little missing sign that I saw on the wall showing a familiar face, clear blue eyes and rich auburn hair tied back to reveal a beautiful, sweet face. The posters stated that "Macy Keene" was missing, and if they had any information to call the store's number.
"At least they've been getting attention," I heard a man say behind me, and I turned to see the manager of the store—an older man named Harry—talking to Alison as he saw me examining the poster. "Have you heard anything from her lately?"
"No, she hasn't reached out to me," she said, looking worried as she looked from the poster to me. I could feel her staring hard at me, as if willing me to say something. I wanted nothing more than to be able to tell her that Macy was safe and cared for… but I didn't know whether she was in contact with Alex. Macy herself had told me that she didn't open up to anyone. I knew for sure that Macy hadn't told Alison; she'd kept those walls up until she'd decided that I was worth telling about her ex-fiancé.
I couldn't know that Alex hadn't snuck in and persuaded that Ally that he had her best interests at heart. I wouldn't betray her.