I swallowed and glanced away to take another drink as my prick started to harden under my pants.
“Tell me about them,” I said softly, forcing myself to focus on the realness of the situation, the secrets she was willing to tell me. Iwantedto know. I wanted to know everything I possibly could about this girl.
“It’s...messy,” Macey said with a sigh, tossing the beer bottle cap onto the counter. For a moment, I didn’t think she’d tell me about it, and I almost opened my mouth to beg, but after a beat, she spoke again. “My sister Melanie was killed in a car accident four years ago,” she said. “And I was driving.”
My fingers tightened around the bottle of beer in front of me as Macey spoke about her loss. I was hyperaware of the hurt in her voice, the way the devastation that stirred up these nightmare memories haunted her. I wanted to hold her, but more than just physically. I wanted to hold her and whisper in her ear and somehow, magically, take away any pain and angst that might remain. I would sacrifice my happiness, mylife, for hers.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Macey continued, but even as the words spilled out of her mouth, I could tell that somewhere deep inside of that false confidence, hiding between self-doubt and grief, no one blamed Macey Britton more than she did. “Some jerk ran a stop light and blindsided us. Melanie was killed on impact. We were sixteen.”
“Both of you?”
“Yes. Twins.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.” Macey swallowed and took a small breath, but I heard her voice catch with emotion. “We were really close. Mel was my best friend. It was...hard. Hard for all of us but especially difficult for my mother. Ever since that night, it feels like she’s conflicted when it comes to her feelings toward me. I know she loves me, but on the one hand, she’s terrified, afraid that she’ll somehow lose her only remaining child someday, and on the other hand, I think she always secretly blamed me for the accident.”
“But it wasn’t your fault,” I said. “I hope you know that.”
Macey fell silent, her bright eyes claiming a faraway look suddenly that set me on edge. She doubted herself, of course. She probably always would, and I hated that. My fingers wanted to reach out and curl around her hand to pull her into me, to help her fight off the memories of her past, the trauma of her childhood, the demons that would always, for as long as she lived, haunt her.
“Maybe,” she said quietly. “But maybe not.” She half-shrugged, her lips resting on the tip of the beer bottle, just hovering there. She was beautiful, even amidst her darkest recollections.
“I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing your sister, Mace, but it doesn’t sound like she would have blamed you, either.”
Macey smiled then, but it was barely a smile. Still, the edges of her lips curled up just slightly, and I knew that my words had been accurate.
“Mel was my other half,” Macey said softly. “Mybetterhalf, I suppose. She really brought happiness to a lot of people.” She cleared her throat and looked away, tipping the bottle up to take another long drink. When she set it down, she looked at me again. “Anyway, things were tense around the house before I turned eighteen and left. My mom and I fell apart, and my dad just kind of shut down.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. I hated seeing her like this. I hated knowing that through her strong, unflinching demeanor as my close friend and now girlfriend, she was dying inside with memories that consumed her. And yet, you’d never know. Nobody would.
Macey sighed and reached one hand up to gently prod at a muscle in her neck, flinching. “But even after all that time, living under the same roof with people who might as well have hated me, they were livid when I wanted to move away from Michigan to go to school here.”
“Why?”
“A multitude of reasons, I’m sure. Abandonment, fear, resentment. I don’t know.” Macey finally took a sip from the bottle, her tongue flicking out to clean the drop of beer from her red lips. I adjusted where I sat on the stool, taking another long drink. It didn’t seem to matter where we were, what we were doing, or who we were talking about—my fascination with her didn’t waver.
“Do you think that maybe your mother’s anger was more over knowing that she was losing you, too, and less over blaming you for Melanie?” I asked.
Macey puckered her lips, mulling this over, and I ached to touch her. “I spent a lot of time with my mom’s brother during that time after Mel’s death,” she said. “And I don’t think that helped whatever relationship we had left to salvage. Whatever or however my mom was feeling, she was still pushing me away, even if she didn’t realize it. But my uncle never blamed me for Melanie’s death. Not for a single second. And that’s all I needed, you know?”
Ididknow.
“Of course.”
“My mom and my Uncle Hansen aren’t close,” she said. “Erik, I mean. She and Erik aren’t close.”
“Erik Hansen? The firefighter?”
Macey nodded, then came around the kitchen bar to sit down on the empty stool next to me. Her leg touched mine as she leaned forward on the counter and began to peel the wrapper from her bottle of beer.
“After Mel died, he was my shoulder to cry on. It was Hansen and me. He’s from Michigan, too, but moved here years ago. We had fun rock climbing and hiking and just being...realtogether.”
I smiled, enjoying the light that lit in Macey’s eyes when she spoke of her uncle and all the adventures they’d had. She was fond of him, I could tell, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d never met the man personally, but he was big stuff around here. Everyone liked him, and there was a multitude of reasons why.
“She was absolutely livid when she found out I’d be coming to Denver to studymedicine,” Macey continued. “She was afraid to let me go. Afraid that she would no longer be able to control me. She was even angrier that I chose to move here with Hansen. As kids, my grandparents were never really around for my mom and Hansen. I think my mom felt responsible for him. She never really got to be a kid, you know? And I think it truly messed her up. Now she resents anything that frightens her.”
“No offense to your mom, but hiking and rock climbing sounds like more fun to me than moping around and feeling bitter,” I said with a shrug.
