“You hesitated,” he replies, holding my gaze long enough that I know he’s not talking about mechanics. “What’s in your head?”
Pride would be easier. Denial cleaner. But Andi is standing there, waiting for something real.
“Megan,” I say finally.
The name settles into the space between us like something long buried but not gone.
“Get it out,” Mack says. “The longer you let it sit in your head, the bigger it gets.”
I exhale slowly.
“At one time, I thought she was the one. We met at her dad’s gym. Things got serious. My dad’s construction business was thriving back then—big projects, tight deadlines, high-profile contracts. During a family get-together, her dad mentioned wanting to renovate his gym. Casualconversation turned into business talk. Business talk turned into a verbal agreement.”
Mack nods once. He remembers.
“My dad diverted crews. Pulled men off active development sites. The gym project ballooned. It drained resources from contracts that already had penalties built into them.”
“Costly penalties,” Mack adds.
“Yeah,” I say. “A lot of them.”
What I don’t usually say out loud is that it wasn’t just a business mistake. It was leverage. Reputation. In my father’s world, reliability is currency. He lost both.
“And Megan?” Andi asks quietly.
“She wasn’t just with me,” I say. “She was working all the angles. Flirting with Brandon. Keeping her options open. I walked in on them kissing one day.”
I pause, remembering the moment like it’s still happening in slow motion.
“I didn’t see him push her away,” I continue. “I saw what confirmed the worst thing in my head.”
“And what was that?”Andi asks.
“That I wasn’t enough to keep her honest. That I wasn’t smart enough to see what was happening. That I brought someone into my family who cost us more than money.”
Silence stretches.
“It nearly wrecked my relationship with Brandon,” I admit. “I blamed him for years. It’s easier to blame someone you love than admit you were manipulated.”
“And your dad?” Andi presses.
“He never said it was my fault,” I answer. “But I know what that loss did to him and his business. I watched him tighten his belt with work crews, jobs he could bid on, everything. I watched him trust less too—business partners, potential new clients, and me, of course. And somewhere in that mess, I guess I grew to believe happiness isn’t safe.”
Andi doesn’t interrupt. She doesn’t pity me.
“You don’t get to punish yourself forever because you loved someone,” she says at last. “Loving her wasn’t the mistake.”
It’s the kind of sentence that could undo me if I let it.
“Is that right?” I shoot back, harsher than I intend. “Do you have a secret so deep you’d do whatever it takes to bury it?”
The words hang there. There’s a real pause before she answers.
“There was a time when I didn’t trust myself with my own thoughts,” she says carefully.
Measured. Controlled. No context. No elaboration. I recognize the tone. It’s the same one I use when I reveal enough to satisfy curiosity without reopening a wound. But I don’t push to find out more. Not here. Not now.
Mack watches both of us as if he’s evaluating more than technique.
