"He texted me," Rachel said quietly. "Asking to meet. To 'talk' about things I should 'understand' about my relationship with Mac. About some ex girlfriend that left town."
Sophie's eyes flashed with anger. "Mac doesn’t have an ex girlfriend, not since high school. What a snake! What did you answer?"
"I deleted it. Didn't respond."
"Good. Don't engage with him. That's what he wants. We will fix this."
Rachel wanted to believe her.
I'm surprised you'd risk another hockey player. Given your history.
And she couldn't shake the terror that he was right.
Mac
Mac came to Rachel's apartment straight from practice, carrying Chinese takeout. He found her sitting on the couch, Mr. Darcy in her lap, staring at her phone with an expression that made his heart hurt.
"Hey," Mac said softly, setting down the food. "You okay?"
"Derek texted me again.”
“What did he say?”
“Asked me to meet him."
White-hot rage surged through Mac before he could control it. "That bastard shouldn’t talk to you, the nerve!"
"I deleted it. Didn't respond."
"Good." Mac sat beside her, pulling her close. Mr. Darcy protested being squished but didn't move. "Rachel, listen to me. Derek is going to try everything."
"I know. But Mac—" Her voice broke. "What if he's right? What if I am bad for you?"
"Stop." Mac turned her face toward his.
"But what if he convinces your team—"
"He won't. They love you. They're thrilled we're together." Mac kissed her forehead, the gesture automatic now. Reassurance. Comfort. The same words he'd said a dozen times before.
Rachel nodded against his chest, but Mac could feel her trembling.
He held her until she fell asleep, her breathing evening out, her body finally relaxing against his. But Mac stayed awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
This was the third time this week. The third time he'd talked her down from the same spiral. Matthews hadn't even done anything yet, and he was already destroying what Mac and Rachel had built.
Later, alone in the bathroom, Mac gripped the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion.
He loved her. God, he loved her so much it physically hurt sometimes.
But he was tired.
How many times? he thought. How many times do I have to prove the same thing? How many times do I have to tell her I'm not leaving? That I'm not Brad? That I'm not going to hurt her?
His knuckles were white where he gripped the porcelain.
Cole had taken Ellie on a weekend trip to Portland last month. Normal relationship things. Easy things. He wanted that with Rachel, without her second-guessing whether she should be there, whether she was hurting his career, whether Matthews was watching.
He pushed the thought away. Rachel needed patience. She'd been through hell. She deserved someone who would stick it out, who wouldn't give up on her when things got hard.
