He settled their tab with the bartender, who comped their food for the trouble, and they were in the parking lot before Mack realized she shouldn’t drive. Not drunk, but even in her wildest days she’d never gotten behind the wheel after drinking. She said as much to Leo.
He led her to a pristinely restored cherry red Corvette and held open the passenger door. She could feel blood soaking through thenapkin and beer dripping from her back down through her cutoffs. “I’ll ruin your upholstery. What is this, 1992?”
“1990 ZR-1,” Leo said, voice tighter than usual. “I’m not worried about the car, Mack.”
He’d never said her real name before and she did not want him to say it like that, so reverently. “It’s a small cut, Leo. I’ve had way worse injuries.”
“You chose those, I’m guessing. That asshole was so drunk he could have hurt you a lot worse. Get in.”
She slid in the car, cringing as her wet back met soft leather, promising to pay Leo for any damage. She pressed both hands against her stinging chin to keep any blood from leaking out. He was probably right about needing a butterfly. “Bossy. You always get all caveman with women in bars?”
To her surprise, a flush crept up Leo’s neck, so bright it was obvious even under his dark beard. “It’s not caveman,” he said, reversing out of the lot. “I know you can take care of yourself. You kick my ass at the gym every day. But yeah, it pisses me off to see you get hurt because someone else was careless.”
Mack didn’t know what to say, so she simply nodded. They drove silently and when Leo passed downtown and headed east, she didn’t protest. He punched the clutch and shifted through the gears, occasionally glancing at her. At first his looks were concerned, checking in on her, but soon they turned into something else, something that told her that he also felt the way the air had changed. She was hyperaware of the small distance between them in the car, Leo’s long fingers on the gearshift so close to her thigh. They passed Geist Reservoir, eventually turning into a winding driveway that ended not at the McMansion she’d expected but at a charming bungalow. Ferns hung from the porch and Mack could see water glistening behind the house.
She followed Leo inside, passing a cozy living room and tidy kitchen, down a hallway toward what she assumed was the primary bedroom. It looked like Leo, warm and casual with lots of earth tones.He went immediately to a linen cabinet stocked full of medicines, creams, and bandages, staple items for every driver. Neither spoke as Leo wiped her chin with antiseptic. He was so close, his hands so gentle on her face. She closed her eyes, trying not to gasp or cry at the feeling of someone touching her. If the cut hurt, she couldn’t feel it over the riot of sensation throughout her body as Leo stood so close to her. Was she imagining it or did he ghost his thumb down the line of her jaw?
When he pulled the cut together and carefully placed the bandage, she hissed and opened her eyes. His eyes flicked to hers, inches away, and she remembered how his hand felt on her skin, rough and right. She wanted to feel wanted, wanted someone else to make her feel good. She was so fucking lonely, so tired of giving and giving and never getting, and Leo was right here, so kind and warm and so close, his eyes asking hers for guidance.
She could stop this, make a joke or ask for Advil. Anything to keep from making the same mistake she’d made years ago.
I know better now.
But the old wildness zinged through her lonesome body, her mind and skin and all of her insides desperate for feeling. Sheachedfor touch. She lifted the chin he’d so carefully bandaged a fraction toward his own, but still he waited, so damn nice even as his eyes flicked down to her mouth.
She leaned forward an inch more and there was Leo, surrounding her with warmth and gentleness. His beard rubbed at the tender cut on her chin but she pressed harder, wanting the pleasure-pain, wanting connection and contact. Leo kissed her softly, humbly, as if he knew this may not last and he’d savor each second they were connected. Mack tried to hurry the pace but Leo wouldn’t let her, holding her steady and keeping the kiss slow.
He pulled back, his hand still holding her chin. The look on his face was regretful, already apologetic. Mack didn’t give him a chance to say the words. She stepped back and stripped off her beer-soaked shirt. His eyes followed her, the debate in them turning to liquid heat as shetook off her shorts and underwear. She walked to the shower, turned it on, and prayed he would join her.
Mack slowly pushed the front door to Laurie’s condo closed, holding the knob to dampen the snick of the lock. The soft sunrise cast a dim glow on the open space, everything clean and quiet and perfectly in place. Laurie often went to the office early, but Mack toed off her shoes and tiptoed toward the hallway in case her sister was still sleeping.
“Have a good night?” Laurie sat at the kitchen island, a small white mug steaming in front of her.
Mack flinched and self-consciously touched her messy hair as her sister looked her up and down. After their shower, she and Leo had moved to the bedroom for a second round of brain-melting sex before falling asleep. Like the coward she was, Mack snuck out and nabbed a rideshare while Leo was still asleep. She knew her sister could draw only one conclusion from her shambled state.
“Hungry?” Laurie looked as elegant as ever in a silky white robe but Mack could see puffy, dark circles behind her stylish black glasses.
Mack sat gingerly at the kitchen island as Laurie stood and poured her a cup of coffee. Awkward silence vibrated between them as Laurie sliced a fresh loaf of brioche, then whisked eggs with milk and added a dash of vanilla. She asked in a flat voice, “Was it Leo?”
Mack blew on her coffee, not looking Laurie in the eye as she nodded.
Laurie inhaled sharply but didn’t say anything. She soaked the bread in the egg mixture and added it to a buttered pan, the sizzle reminding Mack of how her sister had made this same meal over a camp stove twenty years ago, back when their biggest argument had been over who ate the last of the Cap’n Crunch.
Laurie set a plate of perfectly cooked French toast in front of Mack. For several long seconds she leaned against the counter, holding Mack’s gaze. “Why do you do this?”
How could Mack answer when she didn’t know the reason herself? There was nothing she could say that would take the judgment off Laurie’s face, no explanation that would make her feel less shame than she did. Mack didn’t need her sister to tell her she was thirty years old and still pulling the same stunts.
Instead of answering, Mack shoved a giant bite into her mouth, and then another, and another.
Laurie closed her eyes, looking for a moment like she might cry or scream or both, before she turned and walked down the hallway without another word.
Texts Between Billie Summit and Mack Williams
Billie[5/10, 2:11 p.m.]: Have you ever given Shaw colloidal silver drops for her allergies?
Mack[5/10, 6:12 p.m.]: Absolutely not.
Chapter 12
