David opens the door, the cool air rushing in as he steps inside. “The Durango’s packed.” He rubs his hands together and lets out a shivering-cold breath. “It’s sooo much colder here than I remember.”
“This definitely isn’t SoCal weather,” I mutter.
“You ready to go?”
I nod. “Yeah.” I give the apartment one final scan to make sure I’m not forgetting anything I’ll need, at least for tonight, and walk over to the whiteboard on Nick’s refrigerator. I pick up the dry erase pen and write, WANT YOUR KEY? COME AND GET IT. THANKS FOR EVERYTHING. LOVE YOU—M
With a final sigh, I wrap myself up in my peacoat and scarf, take my camera and my workout bag off the coffee table, and head out the front door. David steps out in front of me, and for the final time as an occupant, I stick the key in the lock and twist, glance two doors down because I’m weak and can’t help it, and finally step away and head down the stairs.
I watch my footing as I descend the steps, trying not to slip and fall. David reaches out to help me by grabbing onto my arm, but I shake my head. “It’s okay. I got it.”
“Yeah, I know how graceful you are,” he teases.
“I’ve only slipped and fell down the stairs that one time,” I say. At least as far as he knows.
When I look up, I see Colton coming up the steps, shifting a hardware store bag into the other hand before he pulls his keys from his pocket. When he looks up, we both pause, nearly side by side. His features are drawn and his brow furrowed. This is the standoffish, somewhat cruel-looking man I used to know. Only now I know him better—the shades of his expressions and the way they shift—and I see how imperceptibly his eyes widen in surprise before they narrow again.
“Hey,” I say automatically. I register David waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, but I can’t take my focus off of Colton. There’s nothing in his eyes other than anger, hatred, maybe. He almost looks like someone else.
Other than puffs of breath dissolving in the air between us, it’s almost like there was never anything between us at all. At least, that’s what I’d think if I didn’t feel so sick to my stomach and like my heart is breaking all over again.
“You’re moved out?” He studies the camera in my hand, then the bag draped over my shoulder.
I nod. “David’s helping me.” I expect even the slightest reaction from him, knowing what I’ve told him about my family, but he glances toward his apartment. His resolve is palpable. It’s over between us.
He nods, almost robotic-like, and brushes past me as he heads up the stairs. I watch him go in and out of view as he walks around the landing, toward his door. I hope that he’ll at least look back at me, but he doesn’t. “Colton!” I call his name but he shuts the door and I feel even more like a fool. Somewhere deep down I’d hoped it was only some misunderstanding, but now I know.
I want to be angry at him, but my heart’s breaking and my chest tightens to the point I can barely breathe. Tears burn my eyes as I hurry to the Durango and shut myself inside. I won’t let him see the effect he has on me, I’ve given him too much already.
Fifty-Six
Colton
From the window of my apartment I can barely see the guy’s Durango. Mac hasn’t left yet, and I have no idea why. I wish they’d just drive away so I don’t have to watch them sit there any longer. You don’t have to watch them sit there, idiot. I rub my face and tear my work jacket off, hanging it up on the rack behind the door. I need a shower and clean clothes, and then I need to finish Casey’s dollhouse. Given the unexpected last four weeks, I’m majorly behind on it.
Turning only the Christmas lights on, I head into my room. I flick the light on and grow angry with myself the instant my line of sight passes over the far side of my bed, over the pillows that’ve been untouched since Mac was here last.
I peel off my flannel work shirt, the smell of grease and brake fluid filling my nostrils. Grabbing a clean towel from the folded stack of laundry on my dresser, I’m about to head into the bathroom when my phone lights up. Kylie’s calling me.
“Hey.”
“Hi, I just wanted to check in about Christmas. What time do you need me to bring Casey over?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Uh, the sooner the better,” I say with more urgency than I like, but I’ve never felt so aimless without her here before. “But you guys do whatever you’ve got planned. I’ll be around.”
There’s a pause before Kylie speaks again. “Colt, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
There’s rustling on the other end. “Are you sure? I know that you and Mac—”
“I said I’m fine.” My blood boils at the sympathetic way Kylie says her name.
She grunts. “Right, I can tell.”
“Look, I don’t need a lecture from you, alright? I have to go.”
“Colt, wait. I’m sorry. I just—you were doing so good. I was so proud of you.”
I sit down on the edge of my bed and run my hand over my face. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Kylie.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, but what happened? I know how you are, you’re going to let it eat you alive. You have to talk to someone.”
I stare at the wall, trying to figure it out, exactly. “It just didn’t work out. I already knew that was going to happen.” My fist clenches as I imagine Casey’s expression when she finds out Mac won’t be hanging around anymore.
“Why wouldn’t it work?”
“It didn’t, did it?” I ask angrily. “Look, we had a fight. We were clearly on different pages—that’s what matters.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well,” I say impatiently, “when she wanted me to say things I couldn’t. I wanted to make things better but it was too late. Now, we’re barely speaking.”
“Have you even tried? I mean, really tried, Colton?”
“Of course I have.” I can’t help the incredulity in my voice. “I called her Saturday night to talk things through and some other guy answered. I texted her. I called her twice the next morning and it went straight to voicemail, like she’s ignoring my calls or something. She can be mad at me, fine. But I’m done. I’m not calling her again. I look like a fucking idiot, especially after I just saw her with a guy outside the apartment. She had the nerve to look at me like I was the asshole.”
“Wait, so you think she’s with someone else already?”
“I don’t know, Kylie,” I say through gritted teeth. “I don’t really want to think about it.”
“I’m just wondering if it’s a misunderstanding.”
I shake my head because I don’t think Mac is the type of woman to go from guy to guy, but if she thought we weren’t together, then what would stop her, especially if she’s angry. “I don’t know what else to think anymore, Kylie. He’s right outside the building.” Then it registers. “David.”
“David? David what?”
I try to remember what he looked like, but I hadn’t really paid attention. “It was her brother,” I say, recalling the Durango I’d seen Cal bring into the shop for an oil change. Every wound tendon and muscle in my body uncoils for the first time in days. “But, David?” He’s not around.
“See, a misunderstanding.”
“Then why hasn’t she called me back if it’s just a misunderstanding?”
“Maybe she’s been busy, it is the holidays.”
Holidays or not, Mac would’ve called me back by now if she wanted to. “Well, the ball’s in her court.” Any flutter of hope I was feeling fades just as quickly.
“Just don’t be stupid, Colton. Remember, Casey needs you to be—”
“I know, Kylie,” I say and toss my towel onto the toilet. I pull the shower door open. “I know what my daughter needs. I’m fine. I just got off work. I need to get in the shower. I’ll see you Sunday.”
“Fine,” she sighs. “But try Mac one more time.”
I hang up the phone. I don’t need the last woman
who broke my heart giving me any sort of relationship advice. But I can’t help the nagging curiosity of what if?
Fifty-Seven
Colton
Just as I’m turning off the heater above my work stall, I hear the creak of Cal’s office door opening. He’s mostly been keeping his distance from me the past few days, but I’m unsure if he knows something’s happened between Mac and me or if he’s just being his normal, standoffish self.
“Not only is it a Saturday,” he says as he approaches. “It’s Christmas Eve. What the hell are you still doing here?” He leans against my rack, his hands in his pockets. Cal seems more clean-shaven than I’ve seen him before, his goatee trimmed closer to his face.
“I don’t have Casey until tomorrow, so I figured I’d get some work in.”
Cal examines the new Civic in my stall. “Since Mac’s off, I’ll give them a call and let them know it’s ready for pickup.”
I nod and start collecting my things.
“You two have a misunderstanding?” Despite his question, there’s little curiosity in his voice. More judgment than anything. His eyes are hard and hold no warmth, making this perhaps the most threatening Cal’s ever been. I’m not sure how to answer him without sounding like an asshole.
“You could say that,” I say, grabbing my lunch bag. When I turn around and he’s standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, I feel my muscles tensing, preparing for whatever he’s about to say.
Cal’s expression is stone, completely unwavering, and he eyes me closely. “That was short-lived.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens, I guess.”
“That’s your reply? You break my daughter’s heart and that’s what you have to say about it?”
My voice hardens. “No disrespect, Cal, but I haven’t heard from Mac in days. She’s not innocent in all this.”
He chuckles dryly. “That’s for certain. She’s not the easiest person to get along with. She’s stubborn as hell, we all know that. But I’ve never seen my daughter mope. Ever. And for the last week, when she should be excited about her place, that’s all she’s been doing, moping. And I’m tired of watching it with my hands tied. You have a daughter, Colton, I’m sure you can imagine the feeling.”
It’s true, I can, but I think Cal’s giving me more credit than I deserve. “She chose this, Cal, not me.”
“Really?” He shakes his head. “Well, I’d like to say that what you two kids do and don’t do is none of my business, but the moment it was my daughter you chose to pursue, both of you working in my shop, you made it my business. I don’t know what the hell happened, I don’t much care about it, but you slamming stuff around all week and her throwing herself a pity party is about as much as I can stand. You kids need to get your shit together before I have to fire you both for breaking a no-dating policy or some shit just to keep my sanity.”
His tone brooks no argument and I stand there like a speechless, dumbass kid. I wonder how long he’s wanted to say this to me and how much he’s holding himself back.
“I’ll call the Kellys about their car,” he finally says. “Go home, spend time with your daughter. Don’t come back until Monday.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, and head for the side door. That conversation could’ve been worse, but now I’m more confused than ever. I reach for my truck keys only to find the Civic key in my pocket. “Oh.” I take it into the office to exchange for my own keys.
Meeting Cal’s eyes again, I set the key on the desk when the guy I saw with Mac the other day walks in through the front door. He and Cal exchange a tense look that confuses me.
“Colton,” Cal says, “have you met my son, David?”
David eyes me closely, his head tilted to the side, and he outstretches his hand. “The not-boyfriend, huh.”
“The what?” I frown.
“Nothing.” David shakes his head. “Mac was pretty tore up the other night. I learned way more about you than I needed to. Then the toilet situation.”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” Cal says under his breath.
“At least she got a new phone out of it,” David muses.
“Wait, she didn’t have a phone?” I ask, confused as hell and feeling like I’m the last one to the party.
Cal shakes his head. “No, and now we’re on to number five. It makes me sick thinking about how often we’ve been through this.”
She didn’t have a phone? That changes things immensely. Though I have a hundred more questions, I won’t ask them now. Clearing my throat, I nod for Cal to hand me my keys in exchange for the Civic’s.
Proper keys in hand and mind reeling, I head for the door, suddenly anxious and wondering how much damage I’ve caused with all my assumptions.
“Colton,” Cal says, his voice commanding me to stop. When I look back at him, his brow is knitted together, his dark eyebrows nearly touching. “Mac’s hosting supper at her house tomorrow. Two sharp.”
Fifty-Eight
Mac
Christmas Day
I can hear them out there, Bobby and David arguing about the football game, Sam giggling at something Reilly said; hell, even Alison’s tinkling laughter flitters into my room as she chides my dad for something he’s probably said or ate that he wasn’t supposed to. The living room and kitchen are the only areas of the duplex that are furnished and organized; they’re livable, at least as far as my family can tell. The scent of brown sugar and cloves drifts down the hall, and beneath the chuckles and banter, Burl Ives’s voice saunters through the house.
All of it is exactly what I had wanted all along, but now more than anything, I want to crawl back under the covers and sleep the day away. It doesn’t matter that I’ve just taken my second shower for the day and I’ve dolled myself up for dinner; it feels as though I’ve aged a decade in the past week. I’m exhausted, my body hurts, and my heart feels tattered and torn.
“Mac,” Sam says quietly from my bedroom doorway. I glance over my shoulder as she wipes her hands on her apron. “Your ham’s done and I just finished up the green beans. The yams, potatoes, turkey—everything is keeping warm, so I think we’re just about ready.” She offers me a weak, somewhat knowing smile. Her long blonde hair is pulled half up and drapes over her shoulders. Even though Alison isn’t her real mom, there’s a resemblance about them still. I wonder if Sam’s father had seen that in them, too. “We’ll have plenty of food for the second wave”—she looks at her nonexistent watch—“in oh, about two hours.” I laugh because that’s what always happens. It’s why we eat so early and pass out a little after the sun goes down.
Sam’s mouth quirks up in the corner and I know she’s trying to figure out what else it might take to make me laugh. “I’m fine,” I say. “Well, I will be fine.” Sam’s spent more time with me than anyone else has the past couple days, and I can tell by the way she’s watching me that she wonders if I’ll even make it out of my room today. “I promise.”
She comes into the room, wraps her arms around me, and squeezes tightly. “You look like you feel great, if that’s any consolation,” she says and kisses my cheek.
“Ha. Thanks, Sam.”
I glance down at my watch. It’s a quarter past one. “I’m just going to finish getting ready and make a phone call, then I’ll be out.”
She holds my gaze for a few moments longer before she nods and heads back down the hall.
I remove my cell from the charger beside my bed and scroll down until I find her number. The phone rings and rings, and I think she isn’t going to answer when a surprised voice finally comes on the line. “Machaela?”
My heart swells and constricts at the same time. “Hey, Mom.” I have no idea why I’ve called her after weeks of radio silence, but for some reason, she’s been on my mind all day—a lot of things have—and I just needed to hear her voice.
“I’m happy you called,” she says, and although I wouldn’t go so far as to say she has a smile in her voice, she does seem happy to hear from me. That
makes my heart hurt a little more than it already does. “Merry Christmas.”
I beam, surprising myself. “Merry Christmas.” I throw my legs up on my bed and lean back against my pillow. “What are you and Charles doing?” I’m curious, but I’m also procrastinating going out into the living room and putting on a happy Mac show for everyone.
“Oh, nothing really. We have a couple friends over. We’re watching old Christmas movies and having a few cocktails. None of us have families, really, or at least—”
“I get it,” I say, trying to save her from a conversation turned stilted and awkward. “Watching Christmas movies on Christmas Day is one of my favorite things to do. I wonder if I get that from you.”
“You and Bobby used to love A Charlie Brown Christmas,” she says a little whimsically and my smile broadens.
“It’s still my favorite,” I admit. “Though there are others, too. Home Alone is a classic, that’s Bobby’s favorite, and I also like the animated Grinch, or, rather, I think Dad does. Sometimes I think he can relate.”
We both laugh, and after a moment I remember she has company. “I can let you go, I just wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you did, but I’m happy to talk. They have cocktails, they won’t miss me.” I wonder if that’s the first joke I’ve ever heard my mom utter.
“That’s probably true.”
“How is your new place? Bobby was telling me about it. He says he misses you, but it sounds perfect.” Although she’s talkative—more so than I’ve experienced—there’s still reservation and a timidness to her voice. She’s trying, and that’s all I can ask for right now.
“It’s”—I gaze around the room at the boxes and disarray—“good, but there’s lots to do and it’s a little lonely at times.”
She’s quiet for a minute. “It hasn’t been that long; I’m sure it will take some time to get used to it. I think that once you’re there for a while you might come to really enjoy being on your own.”
Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series Page 65