“Seriously, Mack.”
“I’ll pick a few options,” he decides.
“You don’t have to––”
“See you in a bit.”
Then, he hangs up the phone.
* * *
One hourand fifteen minutes later, a loud knock echoes from the main floor. Heavy footsteps make their way from the family room to the front door as I slowly walk down the stairs. Dad’s already there, opening the door and revealing a slightly disheveled Macklin. His hair is a mess as he runs his fingers through it while balancing three pizzas in his opposite hand. Still handsome. Still swoony.
“Mr. Winchester,” Macklin greets my dad, dipping his chin.
“Hey, Macklin. Good to see you again. Come on in.” Dad opens the door the rest of the way, and Mack steps inside, offering him the pizzas.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked on your pizza, so I bought one meat lover’s, one vegetarian, and one pepperoni. Debated on Hawaiian, too, but––”
“Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza,” my dad agrees as he takes the boxes. “Let me grab Kate.”
“I’m here,” I announce.
My father’s head snaps behind him, finding me on the staircase. He lifts the boxes to showcase Mack’s offerings. “He brought pizza.”
“I heard,” I reply with a smile.
“Guess I’ll…” Dad hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward the family room. “Lily!”
Before my mom has a chance to bombard Mack, I speak up again. “Come on, Mack. Let’s chat in my room.”
The stairs creak underneath Mack’s feet as he walks up the stairs, a sense of foreboding swirling in the air with every step. Because this is the moment. The moment when he decides if my illness is too much. If I’m too much.
Once we’re in my room, I sit on the edge of the bed, unsure what to say now that he’s here.
Choose me. Pick me.
The words flash through my mind, matching the unsteady rhythm of my heart as he makes his way around my room.
In silence, he examines the photographs on my magnet board along with the medal for winning the fourth-grade spelling bee and the bookshelf littered with textbooks from high school, mystery novels, and a lava lamp. He runs his fingers along the edge of the glass, watching the purple and pink blobs of lava bubble up inside and rise to the top of the cylinder.
“I asked my doctor if I could switch up my medication,” I announce, unable to take the silence for a second longer.
He drops his hand and looks at me. “You did?”
“Yeah. I told them how much the side effects were messing with me, and they agreed that finding a different avenue was worth the effort.”
His smile loosens the pressure in my chest. “That’s great, Kate.”
“Yeah.” I pick at the edge of my baby pink comforter. “Have you talked to Hazel?”
“I had breakfast with her and Miley this morning.”
“She sent me a text,” I murmur.
His brows shoot up. “She did?”
“Yeah. Apologized for the ultimatum and for telling her mom about me, er, that she knew who you were dating. Said she gave her blessing, even though it sounded weird to both of us, but...”