Authors: C.M. Seabrook
Mackenzie
I can barely breathe as I run down the sidewalk, dodging other pedestrians. Tears blur my vision, and I swipe angrily at them with my sleeve.
Going to see Theo was stupid. Reckless. Desperate. But I’m out of choices. And out of money.
A horn blares when I step off the curb and into oncoming traffic.
Shit.
I jump back on the sidewalk, fingers shaking, legs gone to jelly.
“Watch where you’re going,” a man shouts through a car window.
I give a small wave of apology, then rub my hands over my face, and wait for the lights to change.
With a trembling breath, I pull the hood of my sweater over my head and tug at the strings, then move quickly across the street, praying that no one recognizes me.
I need to get back. Figure out what I’m going to do. Then get the hell out of town.
But Theo…
His face. His voice. Five minutes with him and I feel like I’m nineteen again. Like the past three years, the lies and deception, never happened.
I pass a small bakery and the smells of fresh baked bread drifts through the open door. My stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten today.
The women’s shelter is still a good twenty-minute walk. Fifteen if I run. If I hurry, I’ll make it back in time for dinner.
Despite the heaviness in my body, I start to jog.
Returning empty-handed, I feel like the complete screw-up that I am. No money. No home. No prospects. At least in Clinton I had a job and a place to stay. Sure, it was a dump, but it was my dump.
The only reason I came back here was to claim the money my great aunt left me.
What a joke that turned out to be.
My fingers ball into fists and I grunt, playing back the scene in my head.
Somehow, my mother tapped into the account and depleted the savings, claiming it was what I owed her.
A small, bitter laugh bubbles to the service, burning my throat.
The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me. But I learned a long time ago that there’s no point arguing with a narcissistic drunk addicted to pain meds. Even if I confronted her about it, she’d find a way to twist the story around, become the victim.
Twenty-five hundred dollars wasn’t worth the fight that would ensue.
She can have the money. I’ll find another way to survive. I always do.
A sun-faded poster in one of the shop’s windows catches my eye. I’ve seen it a thousand times, but it always takes my breath away. Fists up, muscles bulging underneath tanned skin, Theo stares down his opponent. His eyes look dark, almost black, not the rich, warm brown I know they are. His jaw is set, full lips pulled down in a fierce scowl. Dark hair, cut short, unlike the longer waves that fell over his forehead and ears today.
I don’t realize I’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk until someone bumps me from behind. The woman grumbles and pushes past. I ignore her and turn back to the poster, stopping myself from reaching out and tracing the outline of his face.
The world has a love-hate relationship with Theo Ryan. It always has. Men love to hate him and women hate to love him. It’s like people are waiting with eager anticipation for him to step off a cliff. To self-implode. To come tumbling down from the pedestal they placed him on.
But they don’t know him the way I do. Under all his edginess and arrogance, he’s a man who would do anything to protect the people he cares about, even those who’ve wronged him. It’s the reason I had to walk away. So far away that no matter how hard he looked, he would never find me. Give him a chance to live the life he was destined to live.
His success may have shocked the world, but it didn’t surprise me. Ever since we were kids, I knew Theo Ryan was destined for greatness.
The opposite of everything I am.
My reflection in the window ghosts over the poster. Face gaunt, eyes tired, I feel ten years older than I am.
A thousand regrets roll to the surface.
Maybe if things had been different…If I could change that one night...I shake my head and grind my back teeth together.
Too many
ifs
race through my mind.
I can’t change the past, and in truth, no matter how messed up my life is, I know if I had the choice I wouldn’t change what I did. That’s the sick reality of it.
I hate lying to Theo. But to tell him the truth would shatter his perfect world.
Theo
I shouldn’t go after her, but I do.
After a quick apology to my manager, I grab my keys and run to my GT350 that’s parked outside the gym. I rev the engine and gun it in the direction Mac took off. It takes me ten minutes to track her down.
I’m almost ready to give up when I finally see her. Arms wrapped protectively over her chest, gray hood pulled tight around her face. She makes a quick right and jogs down a side street. Her shoulders are slouched, and everything about her body language screams defeat.
The area isn’t one I normally frequent. The buildings are old, crumbling, many with boarded up windows, marked with graffiti. Yellow flyers litter the streets, and I have to dodge an overturned garbage can that rolls off the curb towards me.
Who the hell does she know in this neighborhood? My initial suspicion that she’s messed up with drugs, or worse, creeps back in my mind.
I pull the car to the curb when she enters a building. The sign above the door reads ‘Prospect Place, Women’s Shelter.’
It takes a few seconds for my brain to register what the place actually is.
“What the fuck?” My gut does a three-sixty and adrenaline courses through my veins like it does right before a fight.
I open the car door and realize that I’m still naked from the waist up. There’s a club t-shirt in the backseat. I grab it and pull it over my head.
When I enter the building, a middle-aged woman with silver-streaked hair, sitting behind a large desk, looks up and frowns.
“Excuse me sir, but you can’t be in here.”
“I need to talk to Mackenzie Brooks.”
“Who?” She eyes me with suspicion, brows drawn down.
“The woman who just came in.”
Her thin lips purse and she studies me through dark-rimmed glasses. After a few seconds, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”
“Well make it possible.” I place my palms on the desk and lean forward. “I’m a friend and she needs my help.”
“Sir, if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.” Her eyes have rounded and her hand rests on top of a retro-looking phone.
“I need to speak to her.
Now
.” My voice is louder than I intended, and by the frown on the woman’s face, I can see my tactic isn’t getting me anywhere. I take a deep breath to steady my growing frustration, and say more evenly, “Can you please let her know that Theo Ryan is here to see her?”
The phone is now at the woman’s ear, her other hand hovering over the number pad. “Sir, you need to leave–”
“It’s all right, Sylvia. I know him.” Mac stands a few feet away, and she looks scared shitless. Her eyes dart from me to the room she just came from, then back at me.
“You know the rules. No men allowed.” The woman glances between us, clearly convinced I’m some psycho-ex intent on doing harm.
I don’t blame her. I know my presence can be a little intimidating on the best of days. And right now, anger is warring with emotions I can’t even name.
“It’s okay. He’s leaving.”
“Like hell I am.” The words come out sounding like a growl.
Mac moves across the room, grabs my hand, and pulls me out of the building and onto the empty street. When we’re alone, she snaps, “You followed me?”
“You need to start talking.” I grip her hand when she tries to pull away. “What are you doing here?”
She inhales through her nose, looking anywhere but at me, and I know she’s about to lie to me again.
“It’s only temporary. I’ll be gone in a few days.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
“You need cash. How much?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. Really.”
“Bull-fucking-shit, Mackenzie. You’re staying in a goddamn homeless shelter.” I get in her face, forcing her to look at me. “Now tell me what the hell is going on.”
Her silence adds to the anxiety creeping up my chest.
I let go of her hand and drag my fingers through my hair in order not to strangle the truth out of her. I can tell she’s fighting back tears, but right now, I don’t care. All I want is to get her out of this hellhole.
“Let’s go.” I grip her elbow and turn her back towards the shelter.
“What’re you doing?” She pulls her arm back.
“Get your things. You’re coming home with me.”
“Theo.” She shakes her head, and something flashes behind her eyes. Resignation? Regret? Fear?
There was a time when I could read her every expression. Now she’s guarded as if she hasn’t decided whether or not she can trust me.
“What happened to you?” I want to pull her against my chest, hold her until she sheds the tears I know she’s holding back.
Despite everything, the need to protect her, take care of her, is overwhelming.
“It’s complicated.” She tilts her head back, closing her eyes, and I watch her pulse thump in her throat.
“I don’t care how complicated it is.” And I don’t. I just want her safe. “Get your stuff and let’s go.”
Her eyes open and what I see guts me. Pain. Grief.
Shame.
“There are things you don’t know.”
“Then tell me.”
She shakes her head.
A door chime rings, and a younger woman with purple streaked hair pokes her head out and motions to Mac.
“I’ve got to go.” Her voice is quiet, resigned.
I step in front of her before she can make an escape. “Let me help you.”
Her hands go to my chest to push me away, but I catch them there, pulling her towards me. She glances up, brown eyes huge, her mouth only inches from mine. I hear her small intake of breath as her lips part.
“What’re you doing?” Uncertainty flashes across her face.
“Let me help you,” I repeat, my voice lower, huskier than before.
Her hands snake around my back and she rests her forehead against my chest. I pull her tight, reveling in the warmth of her body. My muscles tense in awareness of how perfectly she fits against me.
I breathe in her scent, not wanting the moment to pass. “Let me fix this.”
“You don’t even know what I’ve done.” Her voice is muffled against my chest. “If you knew, you wouldn’t…I can’t do this.”
Christ, doesn’t she know how much I care about her? Nothing she could tell me would ever change that.
“Whatever it is, it’s in the past. Come home with me and we’ll figure things out.”
She shakes her head against my chest and mumbles incoherently. When she pulls back, there are tears running down her cheeks and her eyes are red. I know before she says the words that she’s going to run again. Whatever she’s hiding, it’s obvious she doesn’t trust me.
A cold chill wraps around me when she drops her hands and takes a step backwards.
“I need to go.”
“Mac.” Her name comes out as a rough plea, and I see her flinch.
“Don’t come back,” she whispers, before disappearing through the shelter’s doors.
Like hell I won’t. Losing her once nearly destroyed me. I won’t lose her again.
Theo
The shock of Moody’s left fist knocks the wind out of me. I stumble and brace for the second blow, which hits me square on the jaw sending me backwards against the cage.
“Jesus, man. You’re head isn’t in it today.” Moody grabs a Gatorade bottle and squirts water over his head, then into his mouth.
I rub the sweat off my forehead and blink until I no longer see the pinpricks of flashing light caused by his blow.
The last of the adrenaline seeps out of my veins, leaving me weak and cold. I sit down heavily on the mat, arms over my knees, and roll my neck.
Moody leans against the cage, watching me. “What’s going on with you?”
Mac, that’s what
. It’s been three days since I saw her. I’ve gone back to the shelter twice, but no one will tell me if she’s still there.
“Is this about the pair of tits that came in a few days ago?”
“Don’t call her that,” I snap.
“Shit, it is.”
I glare at him.
Moody laughs. “What’d you do, go and get her knocked up?”
“Fuck off.” I catch the Gatorade bottle he throws at me. “She’s just a friend.”
Not that I hadn’t spent countless nights wishing she was more. Did she know how fucking obsessed I was with her?
“Christ, you’re telling me you never banged that hot ass?”
“Mac isn’t like that.” She’d still been a fucking virgin when she ran off.
“Hell, man, they’re all like that. You just need to know what buttons to push. Maybe you’ve lost your touch.”
“I haven’t lost anything.”
Except her.
“She’s in some kind of trouble, but she won’t tell me what.”
Moody whistles and puts his palms up. “If she’s got issues, keep your distance. You don’t need that shit. Especially not before a big fight.”
“It’s not that simple.” My head is starting to throb. I place my elbows on my knees and rub my temples.
Moody snorts. “She’s really done a number on you.”
That was the truth.
“So what’re you going to do about it?”
Hell if I know. I’d gone to see Mac’s mother yesterday, but by noon the woman was already shitfaced on some combination of alcohol and pills. Crazy bitch laughed when I told her where Mac was staying. Told me not to get tangled up in her shit, then practically molested me before I could get the hell out of there.
I need to go back to the shelter, but I’m pretty sure the old bat behind the desk is going to call the cops if I show up there again.
“I’m done for the day.” I stand and stretch, taking off my gloves and move out of the cage. “Lock up when you’re finished.”
Moody grumbles something unintelligible under his breath.
After a quick shower, I head to Charlie’s Pub & Grill for a bite to eat.
The streets are empty, most of the businesses closed for the day. There’s a storm coming. Dark clouds hang low overhead, and the temperature has dropped about ten degrees.
I park on the curb outside Charlie’s, and am about to get out of the car when I see Mac.
Same gray sweater and ripped jeans. Her hood is covering her face, but I know it’s her.
She darts across the street, then enters the Pharmacy on the corner.
I don’t waste any time. Jumping out of the car, I follow her, determined to finally get a straight answer.
No more games.
I find her at the back of the store at the pharmacy counter.
The pharmacist places a white bag in front of Mac. “That’ll be thirty-six dollars.”
Her fingers tremble as she digs through her pockets. She pulls out a crumpled twenty and places it on the counter.
“That’s all I have.”
“I’m sorry, but if you can’t pay–”
“Please. I promise I’ll bring the money tomorrow.”
The pharmacist shakes his head and reaches for the bag. Mac does the same.
“Ma’am, you can’t–”
“Here.” I move behind her, and place a twenty on the counter.
Mac flinches when she looks up at me. She opens her mouth and I think she’s going to argue, but instead she tucks her chin and whispers a small, “Thank you.”
“Let’s go.” I grab the bag and grip Mac’s arm, pulling her out of the store.
The dark clouds have opened, and rain starts to pelt down on us.
“What is this?” I pull the bag back when she reaches for it.
“Medicine.”
“For what?”
She hesitates, then says, “An ear infection.”
I study her face for any indication that she’s lying to me, and see none.
When I hand her the bag, she says, “I’ll pay you back.”
“I don’t want your money.”
We’re both getting drenched now.
“I need to get back.” She looks like she’s about to cry again.
“My car’s right there. I’ll drive you where you want to go.”
There’s a slight hesitation before she gives a small nod, and follows me across the street.
I turn the heat on when we get in. “Where to?”
“The shelter.”
Shit, so she’s still there.
I drive slow, needing time to think.
“Did I do something to piss you off?” I growl out.
“No,” she mumbles.
“I’ve tried to think of some explanation why you left, why you didn’t call. The only thing I can think of is that I fucked up somehow. If I did, at least give me the courtesy of knowing what I did.”
“You did nothing wrong. It was me. I’m the one that messed everything up.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“Want to expand on that?”
She shakes her head and looks out the side window.
I exhale a slow, steadying breath, and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I can tell I’m not going to get anything else out of her. At least not now.
“There’s a one bedroom apartment above the gym. The guy I was renting it out to moved last month. You can have the place until you’re back on your feet.”
“I can’t.”
I continue, ignoring her comment, “I know the new owner of Charlie’s. I can see if I can get your old job back. If you owe money, I can lend you–”
“No.” Her arms are crossed protectively over her chest and she refuses to look at me.
She’s acting like I’m the bad guy here. Like I’m the one that took off without a word.
All the rage and resentment that I’ve suppressed over the past three years bubbles to the surface.
“This is bullshit.” I slam my palms against the wheel.
She barely flinches, like she’s resigned to my anger.
Her eyes are dull, lifeless. The spark, that had once been the thing I loved most about her, gone. The woman sitting next to me is a cold shell of the Mac I use to know.
“When the hell did you turn into your mother?” It’s a low blow meant to wound, and it does.
Her eyes go wide, and she inhales a sharp breath. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” I’m yelling now. I try to pull it back, but I’ve held it in for too long. “You want to talk about fair? Forget what you did to me. Do you have any idea what it did to my mom when you left? She treated you like a fucking daughter. And you didn’t even have the decency to call.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“What’s not fair is watching my mom suffer because you’re too fucking selfish to pick up the goddamn phone and let us know you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I laugh bitterly. “Did you know we filed a missing person’s report?”
I have to slam on the breaks to miss going through a red light.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you’re going to leave again, right?”
“I have to.” She chews on her bottom lip and stares blankly out the window.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that.”
We ride the rest of the way in silence.
When I stop in front of the shelter, she reaches for the door handle.
I grip her hand, stopping her. “Wait.”
Her hand is cool in mine and I feel her tremble beneath my touch.
“Don’t go.” My words are pathetic even to my own ears, but I don’t care. “Don’t disappear again.”
She tilts her head against the headrest and closes her eyes. “If you knew...”
“We’ve both done some fucked up shit.” I was no saint, and she knew it. But my biggest mistake was not making her mine when I’d had the chance. I run my knuckles across her cheek and she shivers.
Her lashes flutter open, and she looks at me. Carmel with flecks of honey. So fucking beautiful.
For a brief moment, hope flickers in her gaze, but just as quickly, she shuts it down.
“Don’t do that.” I slide my hand behind her neck, tangling my fingers in her hair, and leaning into her. Close enough to inhale her scent.
“What?”
“Hide from me.” My voice is hoarse, filled with emotion.
She holds my gaze and her tongue flickers across her lips.
My eyes fall to her mouth. The need to kiss her, overpowers all common sense. Every dark, animalistic urge I’d been pinning down snaps to the surface. The distance between us suddenly feels like a gulf.
Without a second thought, I jerk her lips to mine and crash my mouth against hers. Her sharp intake of breath, the slight tension in her body, are quickly replaced with a need that matches my own.
The world explodes. And I know that there will never be anything as good as this moment.
I taste her. Breathe her in. My tongue slips over her lips, licking them, pressing into her mouth, giving into my need. I kiss her with greedy hunger, unable to hold back the groan that rumbles from my chest.
Heat pulses through me, gripping my balls and making my cock hard as steel.
It’s so good. So fucking right.
I don’t care what she did in the past. I want her. I’d always wanted her. She’s mine, and I’m going to make sure she knows it.
Suddenly, she pulls back and stares at me, blinking. Surprise shines in her eyes. Hell, I’m shocked too. Not just by the kiss, but by the intensity of it. I’d had too many fantasies about that sweet mouth, but not one had lived up to the reality of it.
“I can’t do this.” With stubborn determination, she slips from my grasp and darts out into the rain, slamming the door behind her.
Fuck.
The heat of the moment is replaced with a cold chill that settles in my chest. I smash my fist against the dashboard, ignoring the pain that shoots through my hand.
I drag my fingers through my hair and curse.
Something white, caught between the seats, catches my eye.
She was in such a goddamn rush to get away from me she’d forgotten her prescription.
I’m about to go after her, when I see something I hadn’t noticed before. The name on the bag wasn’t Mackenzie’s, so who the fuck was Logan Mitchell?