Page 26 of Beacon

“There you go. You can be an English teacher again. You loved that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“So what’s the problem?” Mack is frowning slightly, visibly confused. “You could get your own place in Halbrook and teach school and have yourself a good home and a lot of friends and still stand on your own. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

I open my mouth and then close it again.

“Tell me,” he bites out, terser than he’s been all morning.

“I don’t even know. I’d tell you if I could put it intowords. It sounds so good. Like a… like a dream. So I really don’t know why I’m not quite ready to do it.”

His breathing has picked up. It’s loud in the quiet room. “What else do you need?”

I make a sound that’s almost a small sob but not quite. I need him.Him. In my life again. In whatever way I’m allowed. But there’s no way I can say it out loud. It would dump so much guilt and pressure right back on his shoulders when he’s been trying so hard to be free of it.

If he comes back home, it has to be for himself.

It can’t be because I guilted him into it.

“I’ll figure it out,” I say at last. “Overall, I’ve got nothing to complain about. My life is really good, and that’s mostly because when I got to Fort Knox six years ago, I met the best man I’ve ever known. The first man I’ve truly felt safe with. And I know he thought I was a pesky little hanger-on, but I latched onto him anyway. And that changed everything for me.”

He makes a short, guttural sound, and tension flickers on his face again. But his voice is light when he says, “You were kind of pesky.”

“I know I was. I followed you everywhere.”

He gives me another very small smile. “I didn’t mind.”

Over our lunch of grilled ham and goat cheese sandwiches, I idly mention I feel like I’m getting out ofpractice with fighting and shooting, so Mack takes me through some drills in the afternoon.

Chloe’s grandfather had a huge stockpile of weapons and ammunition, so we’re able to work on target practice with a variety of guns. Then Mack takes me through the training routine of punches, kicks, and rolls that he taught me the first year we were together. After almost an hour of that, we practice with self-defense scenarios where he comes at me in different ways and I try to get away.

I do pretty well. Much better than I expected after not working like this with him for more than two years. He appears to be taking it seriously and not making it easy for me, but I’m still able to pull out of a lot of his holds, and once I even manage to get him down on the ground.

My advantage doesn’t last long. In less than a minute, he’s got me on my back in the dirt, and he’s using his weight to keep me there.

I struggle, half laughing and half frustrated because I thought I’d finally gotten the best of him. When I part my legs, he has to part his too in order to keep control of mine. That gives me an idea. I slide one leg free and bend it up, stopping short before I slam it into his groin.

I grin up at him, since both of us know this move would have worked.

“Thank you for your restraint,” he says, breathless and with a smile in his voice but not on his face.

“You’re welcome. But if I’d done it, I could have gotten away, couldn’t I?”

“Maybe. Try.” He makes a show of a reaction to a kick in the groin and in the process loosens his hold on one of my arms. I use it to push against his chest with all my strength. He’s so big I can’t move him a lot, but I manage enough to slip out from under him, scrambling to my feet.

I’ve almost made it when he grabs for my ankle.

I squeal as I’m swung back down to the ground. He softens the landing with a hand beneath my head, and then he’s over me again.

“Damn it!” I’m pushing up against him and giggling at the same time. I’m not sure why I’m laughing so much. Maybe an overflow of joy at Mack being closer to his old self. “I almost had it.”

“Next time watch for my hand and then stomp on my wrist before I can grab you.”

“I’m not going to stomp on your wrist! It would hurt you really bad.”

“I mean, if I was really an attacker. I’d rather not have a broken wrist at the moment, if you want to know the truth.”

“Okay, good. But it’s hard when I’m so focused on getting away to pay attention to every little move you make.”

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