Page 15 of Beacon

When he comes back inside, he eats the sandwich in big, hungry bites, and he doesn’t say anything until he’s finished. “I’m going fishing this morning.”

I understand he does this to supplement the prepper food stocked up in the cabin and not for recreation. “Okay. That’s a good idea.”

He leaves the kitchen to wash up and put on clean clothes, so I go to a supply closet where I saw a small fishing rod that almost certainly belonged to Chloe. It will work fine for me. I put on my boots and jacket and am waiting for Mack on the porch when he comes out with his larger rod.

He jerks to a stop when he sees me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“There’s no need. You should rest your knee.”

“My knee is fine for a fairly short walk, and I don’t want to spend another day sleeping.”

“It’s dangerous out here.”

“It’s also dangerous staying by myself in the cabin.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to keep arguing. Be stubborn. Insist that I’m not allowed to come with him. But then he shrugs and scowls and starts walking.

I follow.

I have to walk faster than is entirely comfortable on my sore knee to keep up.

We fish all morning and have decent luck for a lake that’s been heavily fished for years. I catch two and he catches three. We take them back to the cabin and spend a chunk of the day skinning and deboning them.

I hate that particular task. I always have, and when we’ve fished together in the past, Mack always did it for me. He doesn’t this time, and naturally I don’t complain. I take care of the two fish I caught and manage to carve the flesh into neat filets.

After we’ve wrapped them up, Mack puts about half the fish filets into the freezer and the rest in the refrigerator. Then he goes to his bedroom without a word, closing the door behind him.

I wait to see if he’s coming out, just so I know what the expectations are for the rest of the day. When ten minutes pass and he hasn’t emerged, I figure he’s in there for a while, so I take a shower and stretch out on the couch to rest.

I doze off until Mack wakes me up. Like the previous day, he does it by grabbing a handful of my hip and shaking. I’m not as groggy today, so I wake up easier. And I also realize he’s holding my hip and not my arm because he doesn’t want to hurt my still sore shoulder.

“I’m not sure why I’m napping so much,” I say, stretching my arms and back as I wake up. “I haven’t slept like this in years.”

“Nothing else to do, so might as well sleep.” When I just gaze up at him, he jerks his head to the side and adds, “It’s time to eat. Get your ass up.”

I do in fact get my ass up and also manage not to bite Mack’s head off for being so rude.

I’m quite proud of my restraint.

The next day, Mack works in the garden in the morning instead of fishing, so I help him with that too. We pull up the last of the potatoes and pick some zucchini stragglers. Then we clean out the soil in the half of the garden that’s already been harvested so it’s ready to go for next year.

It’s late in the autumn now. There’s not much gardening left to do.

I really hope Mack doesn’t plan to still be here when it’s planting time next year.

After a lunch of canned soup with added potatoes and zucchini, Mack disappears into his bedroom again.

I sigh, looking at his closed door.

Part of me really believed he’d have started softening again by now, melt back into the person he really is. But it’s been three days, and I haven’t seen any progress at all.

I was certain that I’m the person best equipped to bring him back to himself. We were never a real couple, and he never told me he loved me, but I know—everyone knew—I was special to him for a long time.

But maybe I’m the wrong person to do this. Maybe Mack and I have too much tangled history to let me get through to him now. Maybe someone like Cal or Travis or Maria could have done this better.

I wanted it to be me because I wanted to see him so badly, but maybe I was selfish in that.

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