Page 141 of Protecting What's Mine
It was the first Saturday of November, and the night air held hints of winter coming. The moon above was almost full and painted the fields in a ghostly glow.
He drew in a breath, released it in a silvery cloud.
“You all right?” Mack, rubbing her arms with her hands, stepped out behind him.
She was luminous in the moonlight, a winter queen in silver.
“What is it with people all of the sudden doing these big thank yous?” he muttered, looking away.
“Let’s face it, Hotshot. What you do matters. What we do matters. Other people’s lives change because of what we do.” She slipped her arms around his waist from behind and pressed her face to his back. “You’re a good man, Lincoln Reed.”
Then stay.He wanted to say the words that hovered on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to put them out there. But he didn’t want to hear what came next.
That he was good for a good time. A good friend. And not much else.
Instead, he turned around, wrapped Mackenzie up in his arms and breathed her in.
46
Mack ignored the sinking feeling she had as she pulled up in front of her mother’s tidy little townhouse. It, like every other place her mother had ever lived, would never be home to Mack. But this was one of the nicer neighborhoods that Andrea had settled in. She imagined that her monthly rent check helped considerably as she studied the red brick exterior. The concrete steps were swept, but the planter on the edge of the landing held the skeletal remains of some kind of summer flower.
“It can’t be that bad. Just a couple of days,” she muttered to herself.
Still stalling, she pulled out her phone and fired off a text.
Mack: Just got to my mom’s house. Hope Sunshine keeps you company, Hotshot.
She waited, hoping for a response. But when none arrived immediately, she decided she was being an idiot and stashed her phone in her bag.
He’d offered to come with her when she told him about the impromptu trip. A laughable idea, considering. But it had warmed her heart and made her even more determined to get through the visit.
She eyed her suitcase in the rearview mirror. There was no need to cart it inside right this second. She could easily come out and get it when she needed it. Or drive off without a scene if things got too intense.
“Mackenzie!” Her mother greeted her with an effusive and out-of-character hug. “I’m so glad you made it. Come in. Come in.”
Andrea was dressed in a pink jogging suit. Her nails were long and disco-ball silver. Her hair—platinum blonde now—was piled and pinned on top of her head. Mack felt guilty at the relief that coursed through her. They no longer looked like each other. Maybe that meant any other similarities had also disappeared.
But the relief didn’t last. It never did where her mother was concerned.
The first hint that something was off was the pair of men’s loafers on the floor in the foyer.
“Whose are those?” Mack asked, pulling back from the hug and pointing at the shoes.
“Oh, those old things? They’re Tony’s.”
On cue, a man with a big belly and a bowling shirt sauntered down the hallway. His receding hairline was partially disguised by a greasy combover.
“Oh, hey. You must be Kenzie,” he said. He sounded more Bronx than Illinois to Mack’s ear. “I was beginning to think your mom here was pulling my leg about having two daughters. You don’t visit?”
“Mackenzie’s a doctor in the military,” Andrea cut in.
Mack didn’t bother correcting her. It wouldn’t stick anyway, she judged by the glass of wine her mother picked up from the coffee table.
“Hi,” she said flatly to Tony. “So you two are seeing each other?” She couldn’t even pretend to be interested.
“Ha! A little more than that,” he scoffed.
Andrea made a show of holding up her left hand and squealing when the big pink diamond that Mack was eighty-five percent sure was fake caught the fluorescent light from above. “We’re getting married! Surprise!”
