Page 92 of Here & There

Mac’s arm lifts, and I’m sure this is the last time I’m going to see Richard with a full set of teeth. I don’t hesitate.

I place both my hands on Mac’s shoulders, tugging hard at him so he turns away from Richard. “Mac. He’s not worth it.”

He really isn’t.

But Mac’s jaw is so hard I think he’s going to crack his molars. “I can’t let him talk to you like that, Shelby.”

His expression is so pained that, for a moment, my breath catches. No one has ever understood my feelings the way Mac does. No one’s looked at me like me being hurt hurts them.

“I can’t let him do that,” Mac rasps. His eyes are on mine, beseeching me. Looking for permission. But I can’t let him hit Richard. Mac could seriously hurt him. Richard would press charges. Mac’s whole world would change, just because he was trying to protect me.

Even through his anger, through Richard raging at his back, Mac looks at me in this knowing way, like he sees all thethoughts flittering through me and he has all the time in the world to wait for me to come out with what I have to say.

I tell myself this is for Richard. So he can see how serious I am. But it’s not really. It’s all for me.

I rise up on my toes, press my hands to Mac’s rough cheeks, and bend his face down to mine.

It’s just a brushing of lips against his—so soft against the rough tickle of his scruff—but a feeling rushes through me that I can’t begin to describe. It’s like…rightness. Like fitting. Like kismet.

Kiss-metI think inanely.

When I pull away, I’m slightly dazed. But Mac looks even more so. He’s blinking like he’s in shock. But I see his dress shirt tightening against his arm as if it’s being pulled back; I can hear shouting behind him.

It’s Richard, losing his mind. Trying to pull Mac away from me.

He’s like a squirrel trying to pull down a tree.

My eyes stay locked on Mac’s, and I can’t help it. I smile.

Mac brushes a hand against my jaw, his thumb grazing my cheek.

“Just one minute,” Mac says. “Gotta deal with something.”

He turns around just as Richard throws a fist. Mac neatly dodges it, Richard’s arm flying high and wild.

Mac claps a big hand on Richard’s shoulder and whirls him around. Holding Richard’s collar with one hand and the back of his pants with the other, Mac quite literally lifts the smaller man up off his feet.

Lana’s already at the front door, sticking the wedge under the heavy wood so it stays propped open. She steps aside as Mac carries Richard out, arms and legs kicking.

“You can’t do this!” Richard shouts.

“Think he already is, buddy,” Lana says as they pass by.

For a tense moment, I’m sure Mac’s going to throw Richard bodily onto the beach. That Richard’s going to get hurt and sue, and all the things that kiss was supposed to prevent will happen.

But Mac sets him down on his feet. Except he doesn’t let go of Richard’s collar. He leans in and says something in Richard’s ear.

Richard goes still, then looks back over his shoulder at me.

He’s still red in the face, but in the outside light, I see them gleam. He’s crying.

Mac lays a hand on Richard’s shoulder again, but this time it’s not to turn him around; it almost looks like a touch of comfort.

But then, Richard shrugs him off. He lifts both hands up into middle fingers, waving them at Mac and thrusting his hips out as he does it.

Lana bursts out laughing.

I’ve never heard her laugh like that.

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