Page 88 of Mack

“Hey, buddy. You doing okay?”

T.J. nodded, then leaned in close the way he did when he had something important to say. “Mama’s been crying.”

Mack kept his voice easy. “She’s okay. That man scared her today. Scared you both.”

T.J. looked up at Mack with those big brown eyes.

“But you saved us.”

Mack looked at him for a moment.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You’re safe now.”

T.J. nodded, apparently satisfied, and wriggled free to go back to whatever he’d been doing.

Mack stayed crouched on the kitchen floor for a second longer, then he stood up and went to find Mallory.

****

Mallory woke to the smell of coffee.

She lay still for a moment, orienting herself. The farmhouse. The mountains outside the glass catching the early light.

She’d slept in Mack’s bed. He’d insisted, said he’d take the couch, and she’d been too exhausted to argue. She didn’t even remember her head hitting the pillow.

She sat up and listened. The house was quiet in the particular way that meant T.J. was still asleep, which wouldn’t last much longer.

She found Mack in the kitchen, already dressed, standing at the counter with his coffee and looking out the window at the snow-covered yard. He turned when he heard her.

“Morning.” He nodded at the Keurig. “Just press brew, it’s ready.”

“Thank you.” Once it finished, she wrapped both hands around it and stood on the opposite side of the kitchen island and looked at him.

He looked back, patiently as always, waiting.

“I should have told you,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I was scared.”

“I know you were.” He set his cup down. “Mallory, I understand why you did what you did. I understand the thinking behind it. But I need you to hear me when I tell you that you don’t have to protect me. That’s not your job.”

“He threatened you. He threatened T.J.”

“I know.” His voice was steady. “And I’m still here. T.J. is still here. You’re still here.” He looked at her across the island. “That’s what happens when you let someone help you.”

She looked at her coffee.

“I’ve been doing everything alone for so long,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to stop.”

“I know that too.” He came around the island and stopped in front of her. “But you’re going to have to learn. Because I’m not going anywhere, Mallory. Not because of Troy Simmons, not because of anything. And I need to know that the next time something happens, you’ll tell me.”

She looked up at him. “There won’t be a next time. He’s going back to prison.”

“Yes. But that’s not the point.” He tilted her chin up gently. “The point is you and me. Are we doing this or not?”

She held his gaze for a long moment. All the careful distance she’d built, all the walls she’d maintained, all the times she’d talked herself out of believing this could be real.