Page 30 of Take What Hurts

Elliott snorted slightly. Another sign she shouldn’t have another rum. “The only winners in divorce law are the lawyers—or that’s what they tell me, anyway. I can’t say I ever feel much like a winner after I’ve successfully helped two people shred their family, but the partners at the firm are happy, I suppose. Because fees.”

Elliott looked up from the ice cubes melting away in the bottom of her tumbler and straight into the startling blue of Mackenzie’s eyes. She was staring at her with that far-too-soft look, and though it made Elliott feel like she should look away, she found she couldn’t. Because she wanted to soak up every moment Mackenzie stared at her like that.

It was almost possible for Elliott to believe that Mackenzie wanted her when she looked at her that way.

She squirmed on her stool, and her knee brushed Mackenzie’s under the table. Elliott watched Mackenzie’s eyes widen, a gradual bleed of her pupils into the blue of her irises. Elliott was acutely aware of the fact that Mackenzie hadn’t pulled away. And so they sat there, knees touching, and Elliott felt it everywhere. Because why wouldn’t she pull away? If this was just a colleagues thing? Why⁠—

Mackenzie’s husky voice triumphed over the noise in the bar and shook Elliott out of her Mackenzie-induced daze. “You’re a very good lawyer, but do you mind me asking why you keep practicing if you dislike it?”

Elliott blinked. It wasn’t an accusatory question—faint lines of curiosity appeared on Mackenzie’s face, and Elliott found that she wanted to talk to her about it. About her life. So, adamantly ignoring the gentle pulse between her legs that made her clench her thighs together under the table, she did. “Honestly? It pays the bills, and I’m twenty-eight and feel like I’ve committed and that it would be too hard to change careers or even specialties now. But it is fucking draining going every day and doing something I don’t particularly like or feel particularly good at. But at the same time, I have this—this thing where I have to be good at it. But it’s so hard. The time management and the organization and, just—” She shook her head. “Just all of it. Is hard. But if I win cases, it’s like a—a validation that I can do it, I guess?”

Mackenzie shifted on her own stool, and the movement pressed her knee more firmly into Elliott’s. That had to be an accident—it’s just crowded at a small table.

“I get that. Can I ask…? Is there—” Mackenzie paused, lips pursed.

“You can ask me whatever you like.”

Mackenzie considered her for a moment, a myriad of thoughts flashing across her features, like she was chewing over the words, trying to make sure they came out the right way. “Is there some neurodivergence there?”

Oh no. This was it. She wasn’t going to say, “Absolutely not.” Because she didn’t think that was true and she wasn’t going to lie to Mackenzie. And also, all the things that were usually problems for Elliott worked in her favor. They were superpowers. She could hyperfocus when she was feeling engaged and passionate about a task and could finish it faster and more efficiently than any other person. She could be driven by nervous energy. She was proud of who she was—whatever that might be. But a lot of the time, it did leave her a complete mess, and she often needed help cleaning it up.

And honestly, Elliott was too tired to try and work out a way to avoid the question. She tried to remind herself that if Mackenzie ran for the hills, Elliott was better off without her. Her heart almost stopped with the thought.

Despite herself, Elliott breathed out a laugh. “Probably. Nothing diagnosed. But Hannah tells me most people don’t find things this hard at work.” She paused, considering. “And in general, I guess.”

Elliott’s heart hammered against her ribs as Mackenzie considered her from across the table. As the silence stretched, that hammering heart sank like a hissing balloon, and Elliott’s hands started to tremble. She moved them to her lap and fought the overwhelming urge to wither under the piercing blue gaze that was indecipherable in the dim light of the bar. Finally, the silence became intolerable, and Elliott’s heart hit the floor. Just as her brain came back online and urged her to get up and walk away, Mackenzie spoke. Gently. A decibel above a whisper, and Elliott finally understood—the indecipherable thing Mackenzie looked at her with was care.

“I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you, doing this job like you do. Because working with you has been nothing short of seamless so far. I would never have really known for sure.” She paused, considering, and Elliott’s heart began a quick rise back up into her chest where it belonged. “Although your reaction to that terrible joke I made at the market the other week, about the time, did give me an inkling.”

The telltale burning behind her eyes made Elliott suck in a deep breath. Because Mackenzie hadn’t run. She hadn’t scoffed and told Elliott that she knew how much of a mess she was. Hadn’t judged. Had accepted. Had validated. The relief surged through her in a cleansing wave, and the edge of her mouth twitched up.

Mackenzie peered up at Elliott where she sat, and her fingers brushed Elliott’s where they now played with a half-shredded coaster on the table in front of her. “Hey—I mean that. And I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Elliott reassured her. “And thank you for the other thing. I’m desperate for a win in this matter we’re working on. I feel like if I can sort this one out, that will be all the validation I’ll ever need, it’s been going on so long.”

Mackenzie laughed—a full-bodied, rich sound that Elliott didn’t think she’d ever be able to erase from her memory. She sat back on her stool and leveled Elliott with a look. “Dream on, kid. I’m not going down without a fight.” They erupted into laughter, and as it petered out, Mackenzie went on: “In all seriousness, though, kudos to you, because I find this job draining and I’m neurotypical, and I enjoy it. Mostly. Although the pace of it all leaves a bit to be desired. It never seems to slow down, and, god, sometimes I wish it would.”

As the glow of the evening faded into darkness, their conversation was that of two people who had spoken with each other this way for eons. Elliott told Mackenzie about her parents, her brother, her niece and nephew, and her hometown, and stories from her instructor days at Stevens Pass. Mackenzie told Elliott about her best friend, Frankie, and her “Fuckdays”; and her mother, who she referred to as Medusa, which, Elliott thought, didn’t bode well. When Elliott glanced down at her phone for the time, it was well past 11 p.m.

“Shit.” She laughed. “We’ve been here for hours. It’s nearly midnight.”

Mackenzie’s eyes widened, and she checked her own phone, then huffed out a laugh. “Time flies, I guess. We should probably head out.”

With great reluctance, Elliott extracted her knee from where it had gradually migrated to rest along the inside of Mackenzie’s thigh. As the night had worn on, Elliott had accepted that either Mackenzie was just a naturally tangible person for whom that type of touch was par for the course, or there was more to this for her than the simple mentoring of a more junior colleague. As Elliott gathered her bag and suit jacket, she hoped it was the latter.

“Want to share a ride? Lower Queen Anne, right? I’ll get it.” Elliott waved her phone at Mackenzie, the Uber already on its way.

Mackenzie smiled. “That’d be great.”

SIXTEEN

MACKENZIE

When the Uber pulled up at Elliott’s building, they both climbed out of the car and into the misting rain. Mackenzie rounded the back of the Uber and sucked the cold, moist air deep into her lungs and relished the way it cut through the light rum-induced haze clouding her brain. She came to a stop in front of Elliott, who was staring at her, brows furrowed and cheeks tinged with pink.

“Are you—um⁠—”

Mackenzie giggled, limbs light and loose from either the rum or the latent effects of the soaring high that the touch of Elliott’s thigh on hers had brought on. She was enjoying, maybe too much, the way the muscles in Elliott’s face worked with her brain to find a polite way to ask Mackenzie whether she was inviting herself inside. Smiling, Mackenzie put her out of her misery. “Elliott, I’m like three blocks uptown. I’m going to walk from here.”