I stare out the window and debate how to approach this. Butit's Tenley, so I definitely don't need to be subtle. Tenley's mom, my Aunt Jessie, is Callie's sister. Yep. My dad and his brother Jordan married sisters. And Aunt Jessie is reserved and levelheaded but her daughter Tenley inherited Callie's bluntness and lack-of-filter. So I just send the most direct text I can.
I need Mac’s phone number, please.
I wait. I see the bubbles that she’s typing.
Are you going to be nice?
Of course. I swear.
More typing bubbles as I grow impatient and stare out the window. The Christmas lights are reflecting on the snow, casting green and red shadows everywhere. The lake just past the lawn is pure ice. On Christmas Day we'll all lace up. Everyone from my grandparents to my cousins will skate out there and play a game of pick-up hockey. I don't want to this year, I realize, and it used to be my favorite family holiday tradition. One of my first childhood memories is of my dad holding my mitten-clad hands as I slipped and slid on my tiny skates on Christmas Day on the homemade rink in my grandparents' backyard.
Con, she’s vulnerable.
I stare at Tenley's latest text. So am I! I want to scream, but instead, I just wait for more since there are still typing bubbles. It's clear Tenley knows a little bit of what transpired before she and Callie interrupted.
If you need to use someone or be used, no judgment. But not her.
My head tips back and hits the heavy oak headboard. I close my eyes. I don’t want that. But what do I want? I don’t exactly know, but I do know that I made a promise to Mac that I would go to that party with her. I want to permanently take away that look of inferiority she gets when Beckett Echolls is nearby.
She doesn’t want to scratch her itch with me. I heard. Fine. Just want to help her get revenge on her ex. I swear.
Tenley sends me back an eye roll emoji. I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean but before I can ask she texts me Mac’s cell number.
Thank you!
Hurt her and I’ll injure you.
Appreciate the threat, Ten, but you’re the size of my forearm.
I’ll emotionally injure you. Full-on psychological warfare. You’ve been warned.
Are you one of Mac’s patients? You should be.
She doesn’t respond.
Okay, I think as I add Mac’s number to my contacts. Now I just have to figure out what the hell to say to her.
Chapter 9
Mac
It's five-thirty in the morning and I just finished digging my car out of the snow when my phone buzzes in my pocket. That's odd, but sometimes my dad or mom is up this early and reaches out, but my dad texted me last night. We've had our weekly check-in.
As I get into the passenger seat I dig my phone out of my bag and pull down the scarf wrapped around my neck and the entire lower half of my face so it will recognize my face and unlock. The message, shockingly, is from Conner.
I hadn’t heard a word from him since he left yesterday. I was still feeling the freezer burn from his abrupt change of attitude and so I read the message but I don’t respond.
Hey. It’s Conner. Garrison. Wanted to say I hope you have a good day at work.
I drop my phone back into my bag, next to my lunch and wallet, and press the button to start the car. Only nothing happens. I press it again. I press it harder. I press it lighter. Wait… was that sound? I try again. I think I hear a faint ticking sound… or something. But that’s it. No lights. No radio. No engine roaring to life.
I have to be at work by six. I can’t be late. I mean, I think people would understand but… I’ll kick myself mentally for weeks. I’m a perfectionist. I’ve accepted it. I’m never late. I always give one hundred percent and I don’t accept my own excuses, valid or not. I twist in my seat and crane my neck to look at the main house. It’s still submerged in complete darkness, which is to be expected. Tenley is not an early riser. She’s a night owl and I don’t want to wake her but…
My phone buzzes again.
I sigh and grab it.
Can we talk when your shift is over tonight? Please?
