Page 74 of Mack

Sunday, on his way to the office, Mack decided to stop by Mallory’s to ask her to dinner at his place Friday and hopefully stay the weekend.

He pulled into her driveway and cut the engine. Her Tahoe was there. The porch light still on from the night before. He got out and knocked.

She answered quickly, like she’d been close to the door. She was dressed but her eyes were tired and that went beyond a late night, and something shifted in his chest before she’d said a word.

“Hey.” He smiled. “Thought I’d stop by on my way in. T.J. at your parents’?”

“Until later.” She stepped back. “Come in.”

He followed her to the kitchen. She didn’t offer coffee. She kept her back to him at the counter for a moment, then turned around and looked at him with a look he didn’t recognize on her.

“Mack.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve been thinking. About us. I think we should stop seeing each other.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s just too much too fast. I have T.J. and the shop. I don’t think I’m ready for this.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “That’s not what you told me.”

“I know what I said. I changed my mind.” She lifted her chin. “I’m allowed to do that.”

“You are.” He took a step toward her. “Mallory, look at me. Really look at me and tell me this has nothing to do with last night.”

Something crossed her face and was gone. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I was at Dewey’s. I saw you lose your place. I saw where you were looking.” He kept his voice low. “Is it Troy?”

“No.” The word came out too fast. “It has nothing to do with Troy. It has nothing to do with anything except me not being ready. I thought I was and I’m not.” Her voice was steady, but her hands weren’t. “I need you to go, Mack.”

“Mallory—”

“Please.” The word came out raw and quiet and she looked away from him. “Just go. Please.”

He stood there looking at her, at the set of her jaw and the brightness in her eyes that she was refusing to let spill over, and he knew she was lying. He knew it the way he knew most things, quietly and with certainty.

He also knew she wasn’t going to tell him the truth right now.

“Alright,” he said.

He walked to the front door, stopped with his hand on the knob and looked back at her one more time, giving her one last chance.

She looked at the floor.

He put his hat on and walked out.

He sat in his truck in her driveway for a moment, jaw tight, staring at nothing. Then he backed out, drove to work, and didn’t let himself think about the look on her face when she’d said please. He didn’t entirely succeed.

Chapter Eleven

Mack pulled into the lot, parked, and sat there.

He knew she wasn’t being honest with him. He’d stake everything he had on that. And he hoped it wasn’t Troy, but not much else put that particular look on a person’s face. That specific combination of fear, determination, and something that looked a lot like grief.

He got out and went inside.

He hung his hat and coat up, sat down, and stared at the blank computer screen without turning it on.

“Mack.”