"No. She texted yesterday asking if I was okay. I said I needed time." Mac poked at the eggs without eating. "Cole, did I make a mistake? Leaving?"
"I don't know. Did you?"
"I feel like I abandoned her—"
"Mac, you didn't abandon her." Cole sat across from him, his own plate untouched. "You told her you need space to think. That's not abandonment. That's self-preservation."
"What if she thinks I'm done?"
"Then she needs to trust that you meant what you said, that this isn't a breakup, just space." Cole's expression softened. "Mac, you look terrible. When's the last time you slept?"
Mac didn't answer. He'd spent last night in Cole's guest room, staring at the ceiling, his phone clutched in his hand. Waiting for Rachel to call. To text. To fight for them.
Nothing.
"I miss her," Mac admitted quietly.
"I know."
Mac finally took a bite of eggs. They tasted like cardboard in his mouth, but he forced himself to swallow.
Day Three - Rachel
Rachel sat in Dr. Reyes' office again, the same green velvet chair, the same lavender smell, the same painting of the woman on the cliff.
But today, something was different. Today, Rachel was ready to go deeper.
"I keep trying to figure out when it started," Rachel said, twisting a tissue in her hands. "The fear. And I keep coming back to my dad leaving when I was eight."
"Tell me about that." Dr. Reyes' voice was soft, encouraging.
The diffuser hummed in the corner. Outside, Rachel could hear birds singing. Life continuing, oblivious to her pain.
"One day he was there. The next day he was gone. No explanation. Just... gone." Rachel's voice cracked. "And I remember thinking that if I'd been better, less needy, less loud, less me, maybe he would've stayed."
"So you learned to protect yourself."
"I learned that people leave. That love isn't permanent. That I needed to keep part of myself separate so it wouldn't hurt as much when they left." Rachel looked up at Dr. Reyes, her vision blurry with tears. "But Mac isn't my dad. Or Brad. Mac has done nothing but prove he's staying. And I'm still waiting for him to leave."
Dr. Reyes made a note. "What would it look like to trust that Mac is staying?"
Rachel stared at the painting again. The woman on the cliff, arms spread wide, facing the vast unknown.
"It would mean letting him all the way in. No escape routes. Trusting that even when I mess up, he won't leave me."
"Can you do that?"
"I don't know." Rachel's voice was barely a whisper. "But I want to try."
Day Four - Mac
Mac's phone buzzed during practice. Sophie.
Sophie:Rachel's doing the work. Real work. Therapy every day this week. She's not just saying she'll change: she's actually changing.
Mac read the text three times, standing in the locker room, his gear half-on.
His chest tightened. Therapy. Every day. While he was hiding at Cole's, sleeping on a too-short couch, pretending he'd needed space when really he'd just been scared and hurt.
