by Calia Read
I grab onto his arm. “Can I talk seriously to you now?”
Macsen pulls me out of the kitchen. “Can you tell me as we walk to my room?”
We round the corner and I laugh as we walk past the living room. “I found out I’m getting a B in Calc.”
Macsen stops in his tracks. When he turns around, he’s grinning at me with pride. “That’s great!”
He has faith in me, and that suddenly makes me a tongue-tied. “I- I wasn’t expecting it.”
“I was.” Macsen loops an arm around my waist and squeezes me tightly. “Because you’re a genius, and your tutor is brilliant.”
“Maybe at the end of this school year I’ll have an A,” I confide to him.
Macsen’s answer is instant. “Of course you will.”
“And that’s because of you?” I ask.
His hands rest on my shoulders as he walks me into his room. “No, you just needed the right person to teach you.”
I turn around and give him a kiss before I grab my overnight bag sitting on his computer chair. Macsen looks at the bag, and then he frowns at me. “What are you doing?”
“If I’m staying the night I want my pajamas.”
“Why?”
“Because!” I sputter out and look around his room before I finally admit, “I like sleeping clothed!”
“What’s the problem with sleeping naked?” He steps in front of me and tries to grab the strap of my bag. “I’ll be sleeping naked, too,” he says suggestively. “Does that make you feel better?”
It makes me feel more than better. I’m tempted to drop my bag and wrap myself around him like a coiled snake. Taking a step back, I smile regretfully. “I have an early flight tomorrow. Eight A.M., remember?”
His smile fades. “You should skip it. Tell your family that you’re sick with the flu.”
“Too late for that,” I reply regretfully.
“Next year, you’re spending Thanksgiving break with me,” he says confidently.
Next year …would there really be a next year for us? I can hope for that, but the future can be tricky. I know that it can hold a string of events that you aren’t prepared for. I’ve been knocked off my feet more times than I can count. And I don’t want to fall with Macsen. I want to stand on my feet ready for everything the future could toss my way.
I smile down at my bag as I grab my pajamas. “I’d like that.”
He grins at me before he falls back onto his bed and closes his eyes. I take that as my cue to change and take my jeans off.
“Are you tired?” I ask him as I put my sleep shorts on.
“Yes,” he says in a drained voice. “I cleaned out more horses stalls today than I want to admit.”
He can’t see me, but I make a face anyway, and turn around to face the closet. “I bet that smelled wonderful.” I take off my shirt and bra and reach for my camisole.
When I get nothing but silence, I look over my shoulder. Macsen is sitting up now, with his hands braced on his knees, staring at me. Instantly, my heart starts to pound when he stands up and walks toward me with a glint in his eyes. I quickly put on my camisole.
“I’m all changed,” I announce cheerfully and turn around.
Macsen stands in front of me, looking me up and down. He reaches out and plays with the strap of my shirt. My nipples instantly harden. His brows slant down, and his breathing increases as he touches me.
“What are you thinking?” I whisper.
His eyes veer to my face. “That I want you.”
That makes me shiver. “Why are you frowning then?” I ask. His hand is still toying with the thin strap of my shirt. I step closer to him. “I think you wanting me is good.”
“To want you all the time? That’s a good thing?” he rasps out.
“Yes.” My voice is barely a whisper.
To me, it’s the greatest thing. Macsen shakes his head and moves away, walking toward the bed. I step forward.
“I have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he admits hoarsely.
His hands cover his face as he sits on the bed. I frown at him, wondering what he’s thinking. I don’t want him tortured by us.
Loudly, I clear my throat. “Are we going to stare at each other all night?” I tease.
My attempt to break the tension works. Macsen lifts his head and looks over at me. “I hope not.”
“Good,” I say happily, and sit Indian style on the bed. “I have to know … why did you throw away Chris’s cigarettes earlier?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I hate smoking.”
“I know.” I smirk. “I can tell.”
Macsen rolls onto his back and rubs both hands down his face. “My mom smokes. All the time,” he admits. “Can’t stand it.”
We’ve never talked about his mom and I’ve never pushed. Secrets are secrets for a reason. I think most people treasure the skeletons in their closets. We want them to remain unrevealed for a reason.
Maybe Macsen will confide in me and maybe he won’t. I can’t judge. I have my own secrets.
Toying with the hem of my shorts, I look over at him. “Can I ask you something else?” I say slowly.
He glances over at me wearily. “Okay.”
Taking a deep breath, I shift my body and face him. “Tell me about the girl you cheated on with Severine.”
His eyes open wide and he gives me a shocked expression. “You want to know about her?”
“Yes,” I admit solemnly.
“Why?”
“Because...I-” my voice fades off and I try to find the right words.
“Because what?” Macsen probes.
“Because I know that’s not you!” I blurt out loudly.
Macsen laces his finger behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. His lips are drawn into a tight line. I might be pushing my luck, but this is something I’ve been dying to know.
“Tell me,” I say softly.
A few seconds pass and I expect him to ignore me, but finally, he exhales loudly. “What do you want to know about her?”
His voice is deflated, completely void of meaning. He says ‘her’ like it’s nothing. Simply nothing.
“Did you know her?” I don’t want to know her name. I just want the story. I want to clear my mind of any confusion with this story.
“No,” he murmurs. “I would see her around at the library. We only talked a few times.”
“How many times did you see her?” I need to know. It’s not my story. I didn’t experience his relationship with Severine, but it’s something that’s been gnawing at me since the first day I met him. His actions didn’t make sense to me—they didn’t line up with the Macsen Sloan I knew.
He opens his mouth and quickly shuts it. “Twice. I fucked her twice.” His answer is brutally honest. I want to flinch but I stay composed, keeping my face neutral.
I toy with the strands of my hair and say nothing.
“You hate me now?” he asks quietly.
I’m shaking my head no before he can finish his sentence. “I didn’t hate you when I found out what you did and I don’t hate you now.” I tell him with so much honesty that it squeezes my heart. “I didn’t ask you this to piss you off. I’m just confused because the person next to me wouldn’t do that. And sometimes I can’t help but think ... am I next?”
“I don’t know why I did it, Emilia!” His hands pull away from his neck and he grips his hair. “Severine has asked me that same question and I have no answer. When I fucked up, all I could picture was the way that Severine looked at my brother. Every time they were around each other, it was like I was between them, holding them back. I was dating someone that didn’t even want me.” Macsen takes a deep breath. I stare at him with wide eyes. He speaks, and this time his voice is quiet. “But you’re not next, okay? And I don’t want the option of next. I want to figure out how to make you happy, not how to hide all my mistakes from you. I’ll tell you everything about me, anything you want to hear. I won’t repeat my mistakes.”
/> His vow has me moving closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. I know he’s sincere. He regrets what he did. I think that’s the biggest thing Macsen Sloan can give someone, and for me, it’s more than enough.
I inhale his scent before I lean closer to kiss him. It’s the softest kiss I’ve ever given him because I know he’s bared a part of himself to me. I pull away and look at him.
His eyes are panicked as he searches my face. “What else do you want to know? Ask and I’ll tell you.”
Maybe he’s trying to prove he has changed. He doesn’t have to prove anything to me. I already believe him. But I still ask him another question. “You hate smoking, because your mom smoked a lot?”
“Yes.”
I know he wants to change the subject. His eyes flit across the room and look everywhere but in my direction. When they do land on me, I let my pent-up breath escape.
I think we’re both fighting our instincts to run and hide from the truth. He doesn’t know it, but I struggle every day to keep my thoughts to myself when I’m around him. Macsen has the ability to drag things out of me slowly—in the least painful way. I don’t feel anything when I tell him my thoughts and pieces from my past. It’s when I’m done telling him that I feel almost clean. Like a part of me is now spotless, without any stains.
And that reaction is better than the Wyoming feeling. It’s better than anything.
“I can understand that,” I tell him quietly.
His brows lift up. “Can you?”
“Well, yeah,” I say slowly. “It’s something that reminds you of her.”
His eyes widen and I know I’ve struck a cord. “So what about you?” Macsen asks quietly. “There’s nothing from your past that you hate?”
“Absolutely,” I nod quickly, probably too quickly. “The people I grew up around? They were plastic, nothing about them was real and I hated it. I like where I am now,” I give him a pointed look, “I don’t have to see any of them and it’s kind of like starting over. It has made me a different person.”
“And that’s why you came here?”
His eyes never leave my face. I become a coward and look down at the comforter. “More like I was led here.”
“How far are you from home?”
I answer hesitantly, “A few hours away. My family lives in New York.”
Macsen sits up straighter. “I lived in New York briefly.”
“Yeah?” My heart is pounding. New York is huge. I cross my fingers he doesn’t ask where I live. I’m not that good of a liar.
“It was okay. Laurena still lives there.”
I swallow loudly and look down at the bed, trying to calm my nerves. “You know what I notice?” I ask. Macsen just lifts a brow. “Sometimes you call your mom, Mom, and sometimes Laurena. Why do you do that?”
“I have a strange fucked-up relationship with my mom,” he says it without any remorse or sadness.
My back tenses as I wait for him to answer. “What do you mean?”
His laced fingers rest over the ridges of his stomach and he looks up at the ceiling. I know he’s trying to look relaxed, but his foot is repeatedly tapping against the footboard. “She’s hard to live with, hard to speak with, and it’s impossible to earn any love from her.”
His confession makes my face fall. “After the divorce you never lived with your dad?”
“Not once,” Macsen says bluntly. “I saw him four times growing up. First time was when I was eleven for my fifth-grade graduation. Second time was when I was fourteen for my eighth-grade graduation. Third time, I was eighteen and it was for my high-school graduation.”
All the important events in his life. It brings pain to my heart to hear that his memories with his dad could barely cover the fingers on one hand.
“And the fourth time?” I ask quietly.
Looking over at me, Macsen smiles darkly. “The fourth time was when I moved here.”
“But why? Why would he only see you four times?” I regret my question the minute it slips out of my mouth because I’m afraid that Macsen will actually answer me. I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the answer.
Macsen’s eyes are void as he looks at me. “I’m distant from the Sloan side for really strange reasons.”
“No one should treat their kid like that!” I say heatedly. “You were separated from your brothers!”
“I lied for my mom, Emilia.” I pull my head back and stare at him. Macsen keeps talking. “They had the most dysfunctional relationship I can think of. She yelled, he said nothing and would leave for the night, and then she would get drunk. An hour later, our grandparents would come pick us up. After a few years of that routine, she decided to file for divorce. All her true colors came out after that.”
“What happened?” I practically whisper.
“She filed for full custody for all three of us. And things became tense. I was only seven when everything started to go downhill. The minute you walked into our house, it was a fucking nightmare. My mom was taking stock of everything she wanted, and my dad was talking to lawyers most of the time.”
I want to reach out to him, but I keep my hands to myself. When I speak my voice is filled with emotion. That’s something I can’t help. “That’s awful,” I tell him.
Macsen nods his head and looks me straight in the eye. “What would you do for your family, Emilia?”
I speak with conviction. “Anything.”
“I did the opposite.” He looks over at my hands, but I know he’s not seeing them. He’s picturing the past. “She asked me to tell the judge that my dad physically abused me. She told me that if I did this, not to think of it as lying, but as a means for everything to work out as it should. I said yes, and she cried and told me that all she wanted was to have her children together.”
And there it is. Macsen’s secret. This is where his scars come from.
I don’t know whether to smile out of gratefulness that he shared his past or break down and cry for the things that he was never able to experience with his dad.
A chill surrounds me as I look at Macsen. “How old were you?”
“Eight.”
My hand creeps forward. I pull his hand away from his stomach and hold it tightly within my own. I can’t understand his pain. Throughout everything that’s happened to me, my parents were always there, together—in unity.
Macsen squeezes my hand and keeps talking. I want to cover my ears because I’ve heard enough. But something tells me he needs to get this off his chest. “What I told the judge worked and she was granted full custody. My grandparents on the Sloan side fought it though, and they were given custody of Mathias and Thayer.”
“What about you?”
He frowns at me. “What about me? I lied for my mom.”
“That’s not what I meant. I want to know who took care of you.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. He smirks but there’s nothing bitter about it. “Mrs. McKissick, my next-door neighbor. When I was a kid, I would go over to her house most of the time.”
His words only give me minor relief. At least he had someone to turn to when he was a kid. But what about the other places he lived? Was someone there for him? I don’t ask him. I think I already know what his answer will be.
My frustration is apparent as I talk. I can’t help it. I see the truth so clearly I can reach out and grab it. But Macsen doesn’t. “But your dad! Didn’t he know what was going on? Didn’t he fight for you?”
Macsen tilts his head to the side, looking at me like I’m not understanding it. “I lied. I lied right in front of my dad’s face!”
Anger spreads throughout my body. I reach out and grip Macsen’s face tightly between my hands. “You were innocent,” I say slowly. He looks at me, and I swear I see the innocence of him when he was eight. “You didn’t do anything bad. What you did ... you thought you were helping your mom. It’s not your fault!”
His fingers wrap around my wrists and pull them away from his face. “You see too much goo
d, Emilia.”
I shake my head back and forth. “I really don’t.”
“You do,” he insists. “Out of the entire story, you tried to find the silver lining.”
“I didn’t have to look very far, Macsen! It’s easy to see you did nothing wrong!”
His head tilts to the side. “Do you know what bad even means?”
My hands slowly move away from his face. “I do,” I say bluntly.
“Oh yeah?” He laughs mockingly. “What does sweet Emilia know about being bad?”
I take his words as an opportunity and tell him some of my truth. My heart pounds the whole time. “I’ve done some really bad things.”
“What?”
My throat constricts. “I made a Burn List.”
He lifts a single brow. “Of what?”
“Of the people I hated. People that have hurt me.” He’s silent and I continue, “I crossed every name off the list after I made them pay. Until it came down to the last person … I couldn’t do it.”
“Why was that?”
I look him in the eye and say my words slowly, “I saw the truth.”
Macsen is silent. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His eyes are unreadable. What I told him is as close to the truth as I can get. It’s all I can tell him. He doesn’t move for a few seconds and when he does, I’m ready for him to ask more questions.
His chest rises and falls slowly before he sits up. The pads of his thumbs outline my lips before he guides my face closer and kisses me softly before pulling away. Over and over he repeats the action in an unhurried pace before the pressure of his lips increases.
Keeping our lips connected, I move over him. It throws Macsen off guard and he sucks in a sharp breath. Lust drives my actions and I press my breasts into his chest. Touching him right now is my way of speaking. My hands drag down his neck, showing my adoration. Slowly, I rub his shoulders and his strength makes me feel safe. I run my hands over every part of his upper body.
Macsen pulls himself away long enough to pull his shirt over his head. I meet his lips midway and his tongue slides into my mouth, moving so slowly that I grind against him. Something feels different this time. Macsen and I always come together with a fierceness that shocks even me. But this time, we’re both slow with our touches.