Page 130 of Beyond Protection
"You're thinking too loud," Mac said against my neck.
"Sorry."
"Don't be." He lifted his head. His eyes were still sleep-soft, with his hair smashed flat on one side. Mac, rumpled and real. "What's going on in there?"
"Assessing."
"Threats?"
"No." I touched his face. His stubble was rough under my fingertips. "This."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not good at this. At letting myself..." I paused. "Last night, when you asked me if I was okay, I said I was. I meant it. But I'm not used to meaning it."
"Neither am I."
"I know."
"Good." He kissed my knuckles. "At least we match."
The furnace clicked off.
"We should get up," Mac said after a moment. "Ma's going to feed us whether we're ready or not."
"Probably already making pancakes."
"God, I hope not." He groaned. "I can't watch you be competent at helping cook breakfast again. My ego can't take it."
"I'm not good at everything."
"Name one thing you're bad at."
"This." I gestured between us. "Relationships. Being someone you can count on when it matters."
"You're here," Mac said quietly. "That's mattering. And you haven't run yet."
"I'm not going to," I said.
"Promise?"
"Yeah." I pulled him closer. "I promise."
He kissed me. Slow with his fingers raking into my hair.
"We really should get up," he said, not moving.
"Probably."
"Ma's going to come looking for us."
"Definitely."
Neither of us moved.
We heard footsteps in the hallway—purposeful, maternal, coming closer. Mac scrambled back. I sat up. We were both fully clothed, nothing inappropriate, but somehow we looked guilty anyway.
Ma knocked, and the door opened before we could answer.
