"I don't care if Derek had a fucking pink elephant, buddy. Rachel told you she didn't meet with him. You should have believed her." Sophie's words came out jagged. "Mac, do you have any idea what you just did?"
"I'm going to fix it. Tomorrow morning, Cole and I are getting security footage from The Grind. We'll prove Rachel was alone!"
"That's not the point!" Sophie's voice rose. "The point is you should have believed her WITHOUT needing proof! The point is you chose doubt over trust!"
Tears burned now. "I know. I fucked up. But Sophi—"
"No buts, just fix it!" Sophie took a breath, forcing herself calm. "Mac, I love you. You're family. But right now? I'm so disappointed in you I can barely look at you."
That hurt.
"How do I fix this?" Mac's voice cracked.
"You start by apologizing. Really apologize: 'I'm sorry. I was wrong. I should have trusted you.'" Sophie's expression softened slightly.
"I did. I will. I promise."
Sophie nodded and headed into Rachel's building.
Mac sat in his truck for another thirty minutes, then drove home.
To his empty apartment. That was supposed to become their home on Saturday.
If Rachel still wanted him after this.
Later that night Mac lay in bed with Puck curled beside him and sent one more text:
Mac:Rachel, I was completely wrong. I should have believed you immediately without question. I'm so sorry I doubted you even for a second. Tomorrow morning I'm getting security footage from The Grind to prove he was stalking you. Not because I don’t believe you, but because we need evidenceagainst him. I love you. I trust you. And I'm going to prove it. Please forgive me.
He didn't expect a response.
He didn't get one.
But tomorrow, he'd make this right.
He had to.
40
Mac
Mac walked into The Grind at exactly 8 AM to find Cole already there, holding two coffees and wearing his captain face; the one that meant business.
"Thanks for coming," Mac said, accepting the coffee. He hadn't slept or eaten. The fight with Rachel played on repeat in his mind all night.
You chose Derek over my word.
She was right.
"Let's get this done," Cole said simply. "You need to fix things with Rachel before the town hall. We need you two united."
They approached the counter where a barista Mac vaguely recognized. A female, maybe twenty year old, college student, had that perpetually tired look all baristas seemed to have, was wiping down the espresso machine.
"Hi, good morning there," Mac said. “Can I ask you a question?”
The barista, her nametag said JESS, looked up, recognition crossing her face. “Shoot.”
"I need to ask about Monday morning. Around ten AM. Doyou remember a woman sitting alone in the corner booth? Brown hair, gray cardigan, working on a laptop?"
