Page 47 of Beacon

I have a sudden vision of what life might look like if I was able to share it with this man. Day after day of partnership, companionship, intimacy, pleasure, mutual support and mutual need.

And I want it. There’s no longer any doubt or questions or agonizing fears and uncertainties inside me.

Iwantit. So badly it feels like my heart is literallyreaching out in a desperate attempt to pull Mack back to me.

But it’s too late. We’re both different people now, and I’m no longer the woman who can allow Mack to be the man he wants to be.

He as good as said so last night.

It hurts too much to process, and not for anything would I upset Mack further by bringing up the subject now. He’s got too much to deal with as it is. He doesn’t need the burden of my aching heart dumped on him as well.

I had my chance with him, and I wasn’t ready for it back then. Maybe I made a mistake and should have trusted that I would grow with him to the point I am now. Or maybe I made the right decision for who I was at that stage of my life, and the universe is simply against us.

It no longer matters why it happened or how much I wish things were different. Mack needs me right now—me and not my broken heart—and I’m going to be there for him the way he’s always been there for me.

“Everything all right?” he murmurs after a long stretch of silence. He’s leaning against the counter while I’m stirring the stew.

“Yes.” I smile at him. “Tired but glad to be back.”

He gives a slow nod, and I’m not sure if he believes me. “Me too.”

“Areyouokay?”

He meets my eyes for several seconds. Then gives a little shrug. “I… don’t know.”

I put down the wooden spoon and step over so I can hug him gently. He returns the embrace, and we stand there hugging in the kitchen until the stew in the pot begins popping as it simmers. I have to hurry back to the stove to stir it and turn down the heat.

Mack makes us some toast to go with the stew, and we sit at the kitchen table to eat.

Our meal is as quiet as its preparation. Mack empties his bowl and finishes his toast and drinks two glasses of water. But then he appears to be drained of all energy. He slumps forward, propping his arms on the table and resting his head on his hands.

I make a helpless sound as I look at him, frantically searching my mind for something to do to help. I pick up our dirty dishes and wash them quickly, leaving them on the rack to dry because Mack doesn’t like leaving messes around. Then I move behind him and put my hands on his shoulders, rubbing them silently.

“I’m okay,” he mumbles.

“Okay.”

He lets out a soft moan as I knead his tight muscles more firmly. “I’m just tired.”

“Okay.” I lean over for better leverage, pushing hard into the knots I find in his shoulders and neck.

“I don’t need coddling.”

“Okay. Do you want to just go to bed?”

He hesitates. Then, “You can keep doing that for a few more minutes. Feels good.”

I let out a breathy laugh and lean over to kiss the back of his smooth head. “Why don’t you go lie down in bed, and I can give you a better back rub there?”

Once again, he pauses, and I’m not sure whether he’s going to agree or not. But he finally mutters, “You sure?”

“Yes. I want to.”

It looks like he swallows hard. “Thank you.”

I lean over to kiss his jaw near his ear. “Go lie down, and I’ll lock up real quick?”

“I can?—”

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