"So that's it? We're done?"
"I don't know. I need time to figure out what I want. And you need to figure out if you can actually slow down or if this is just who you are." She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "Because if it is, if you're always going to be this intense, I don't think I can handle it."
A car pulled up, her Uber.
That was fast.
"Rachel—"
"Goodbye, Mac." She got in the car, and Mac watched it drive away, her silhouette disappearing into the night.
He stood alone on Main Street, the cool April air suddenly feeling freezing.
His phone buzzed. Jamie.
Jamie:How'd it go?
Mac stared at the text for a long moment, then typed back.
Mac:I don't know. Bad, I think.
Jamie:Want to talk about it?
Mac:No
He walked to his truck, climbed in, and sat there for several minutes before starting the engine.
He'd pushed. Asked for more than she could give. And now Rachel was pulling away, maybe permanently.
Mac drove home slowly, replaying every moment of the evening, trying to figure out exactly where he'd gone wrong.
His phone buzzed again. This time it was Cole.
Cole:Ellie says Rachel seemed overwhelmed. Don't text her tonight.
Mac:She said she doesn't want me to text her at all.
Cole:Shit. I'm sorry man.
Mac:Yeah. Me too.
He pulled into his driveway, turned off the engine, and sat in the darkness.
Puck would be waiting inside, judgmental and demanding dinner.
But out here, alone in his truck, Mac let himself feel it, the crushing disappointment, the fear that he'd ruined something before it began, the horrible realization that maybe he was too much.
Maybe Rachel was right to walk away.
Maybe he didn't know how to do this at all.
15
Rachel
Rachel sat at the circulation desk, supposedly cataloging new arrivals, but really staring at the same page she'd been staring at for the past fifteen minutes.
It had been four days since she'd told Mac she needed space.
