“Gotta love Shelby,” Conner murmurs with a small smile. Shelby is the daughter of his Uncle Cole and Aunt Leah. The big sister to his cousin Grady who also plays hockey, of course. . Conner turns back and peeks out the big window again. “What does he want?”
“He’s been texting me to get my stuff out of the apartment and I’ve been ignoring him,” I explain and reach for Conner’s arm again. “Get away before he sees you!”
“Too late,” Conner replies and my heart takes a swan dive in my chest. Conner lifts his hand and gives Beckett an abrupt, terse wave, but he isn’t smiling at him, which I appreciate.
What I don’t appreciate is that Conner then gives Beckett a ‘one second’ sign and turns and starts towards the door. “Conner! I donotwant to see him!” I wail. “I can’t!”
Anxiety starts to quake through my body, sobering me up. I don’t want to be humiliated in front of Conner and nothing about seeing Beckett again won’t be humiliating. Conner turns and grabs my shoulders in his wide, strong hands. His grip is firm but gentle. “Mac, I’ll handle this, okay? I have a plan.”
“A plan?” I squawk like a parrot as he marches to the door, flings it open, and starts down the stairs.
He stops halfway and motions for me to join him. “Come on. Trust me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Trust me anyway.” He holds out his hand. I bite my lip and stand frozen at the top of the stairs. Conner’s shoulders rise and fall on a frustrated sigh and then he reaches out and grabs my hand in his and pulls me toward the door.
He drags me all the way down the stairs. In the small square entryway at the bottom, he changes the grip on our hands. He's not holding my hand like you would a child while crossing the street anymore. Now he's got our fingers laced together, like lovers. I want to protest, or at the very least demand to know the details of this plan, but there isn't time. He flips the deadbolt and flings open the door.
Beckett Echolls is standing there holding a box. His girlfriend, Heather, is right behind him, also holding a box. And now this situation has officially gone from bad to worse. I don’t have makeup on, my hair is everywhere, my eyes are likely glassy from the booze and I…
Conner squeezes my hand in his. I tilt my head up and he winks with the confidence of a King. Then he turns to face my ex. “Beckett, right?”
“Yeah. Hey, Conner,” Beckett says like he’s pleasantly surprised but his eyes are dull and flat. Not a bit of excitement in them. He looks irritated and confused. “Don’t you have a game today in Brooklyn?”
“The Barons game just ended,” Conner replies vaguely. He pauses to watch Beckett look at me, then back at Conner, then at our hands which are still joined. And then Conner says something that makes my brain explode. “I was scratched, so I came to see my girl.”
I almost ask him who he’s talking about, but I’m distracted by Beckett’s jaw unhinging like he’s an anaconda trying to swallow a truck. Heather leans forward and nudges him in the back “Beck! We can’t stand here all day!” Heather snaps.
“Relax, babe!” he says but his tone is tight. He eyes us again, and I eye him back. Beckett looks the same as he always did. No weight loss from emotional stress. No bags under his eyes. No sad frown permanently creasing his forehead. He looks relaxed, unbothered, and even happy. I fucking hate him.
The top of the box in his arms isn’t closed and I can see one of my picture frames on top of a throw pillow. A throw pillow? He’s giving me back the throw pillows we bought together?
“Who told you where I was?” I ask Beckett. My voice sounds softer and less steady than I would like.
“Do you want your stuff or not?” Beckett replies tersely. He’s got that look on his face which I know is pure annoyance. He has no use for me anymore. That doesn’t sting as much as it used to, but looking past him, at the face of his pretty, thin, blonde ex-turned-current, does. She is nothing like me, inside or out, but he thinks she’s the better option. “I could have just thrown all this stuff out, but I’m trying to be the adult here.”
Again, this asshole tries to insinuate he’s an adult. Maybe ignoring him and ghosting him wasn’t adult, but I was inpieces. Conner squeezes my hands again and it gives me the strength to speak. “I believe the word you’re looking for isn’t adult butadulterer.”
“Mackenzie…” He sighs and rolls his eyes.
“Mac,” Conner interrupts and lets go of my hand only to wrap an arm around my shoulders and pull me forward so I’m snuggled into his side in the doorway. “She prefers Mac. Always has.”
I feel myself relax a little into Conner’s side. Beckett's big brown eyes widen even further. Behind him, Heather sighs impatiently and my gut rolls with humiliation. She's the reason he discarded me like week-old pizza. Conner looks over at her. "Heather, right? You were in my class at Silver Bay High."
"Yeah. Hi Con," she says with a flirty smile. She is flirting in front of her… my eyes move to her hands. No ring. That big, square-cut solitaire I found isn't on her hand. Yet. But Beckett is still definitely her boyfriend and she's flirting with Conner in front of him. Or am I overreacting? "How's the Big Apple? I love New York."
"I prefer Maine," Conner replies, and then, before I realize what’s happening, he turns his head and presses his lips to my temple. “With my girl.”
Oh no he didn't! Oh shit, he did.
Beckett blinks so rapidly that I almost ask him if he has something in his eye. When he speaks there's a stinging amount of disbelief dripping from his tone. "You're dating Macken… Mac?You? With her? Since when?”
Conner shoots him a look that says he thinks Beckett’s an asshole but then he smiles. Not his usual warm, infectious smile, but this cool, intimidating one that’s dipped in vinegar and wrapped in barbed wire. “Oh man, I don’t know the date this all took off. Babe, do you remember?”
I shake my head unable to quickly do the math on a fake relationship I didn't know I was in until thirty seconds ago. But then glance over at Beckett and Heather who were sleeping together on and off for two years behind my back and suddenly, I'm furious Beckett would even dare ask the question. "I think, if we're going to put an official date on it, it would have been right before you left for the season. Not this September, but last. It was supposed to be a one-time thing but…"
I shrug. It's exactly what Beckett said to me when he told me about Heather. She was supposed to be a one-time thing. Getting each other out of their systems. A final official goodbye but… shrug. That's how he explained it to me. And now, Beckett knows those are his words. I can see it in the bitter look twisting his face. Then he actually inhales so sharply that I hear it.
