“Of course we waited,” Nick says and begins pulling the goodies from the bag. “As if we’d do any different.”
“Yeah, right.” Mac rolls her eyes and reaches forward to pluck a strawberry from the rainbow-filled pint.
Muttering to himself, Nick reads the sandwich labels. He hands Mac her turkey and Swiss and passes the chicken with smoked cheddar to me. And somehow, before I’ve even opened my sandwich all the way, Nick’s already taking a bite of his cheeseless salami.
“What?” he mumbles, his mouth full of food. “I’m a growing boy.”
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Mac retorts. She unfolds her napkin over her skirt before she unwraps her lunch.
I give her a once-over. “How do you work in a mechanic shop wearing a pencil skirt, and a tan one at that?” An image of her bending over for a file while all the guys in the shop gape at her comes to mind. “I mean, I’m sure the guys love it, but it can’t be functional.” I tear a piece of my French roll off and plunk it into my mouth. Spicy mustard tingles the tip of my tongue and I savor the taste.
Mac lifts a shoulder. “It’s quite easy, actually. Besides, I’m not worried about the guys. My dad would kill them if they got caught ogling the boss’s daughter. They’re all like uncles more than random pervy men, anyway.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nick grunts.
“Look,” Mac says with a huff. “Just because I work in a place filled with grease and stinky men doesn’t mean I can’t look like a girl while I’m doing it.”
I shrug. “True.”
“I don’t care how much my dad needs me. I’d quit before pulling on a pair of coveralls.” Mac points to my cutoffs. “And you’re one to talk. You ride horses in tiny little shorts.”
Nodding, I shrug again, but I smile, realizing how much I miss her. “When are we going to have a girl’s night?”
Mac taps her finger to her chin, an exaggerated gesture. “Well, I have the auditors to deal with this month and a list of customers to hassle for payment. Plus about a half a ton of filing to do, so I’ll let you know when I can breathe again.”
“So dramatic,” Nick says, and he takes another oversized bite of his sandwich. He has mustard on his lip, so I lean over and wipe it off for him.
“Do you eat like this around your mother?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.
“Maybe next week,” Mac finally concedes. “I’ll let you know. My summer session ends in a couple weeks so I’ll have more time after that, too.”
“I know things are busy, so don’t fret, just thought I’d ask,” I say, though seeing her more often would be nice.
“Spicy?” Nick asks, distracted by the jalapeño-flavored chips he’s holding up.
“Don’t worry. Those are for us,” I say, reaching underneath the discarded sandwich wrappings and pulling out a small bag of Cheetos for him. “Just for you, my dear . . . since you can’t hang.”
“Thanks, Mom!” He leans over and kisses my cheek.
“By the way,” Mac says, taking a swig from her water bottle. “Nick tells me Reilly’s coming back.” Her voice is low and she glances between Nick and me. My muscles tense and my appetite diminishes. She regards me a moment longer before her eyes shift to Nick.
“Yep,” he says, popping a Cheeto into his mouth. “He’s finished with his tour and he’s coming back to sell his dad’s house. It was John’s dying wish, I guess you could say.”
“What does that mean?” Mac asks. I’m curious too.
“His dad sent him a three-sentence note before he died—actually, Reilly didn’t get it until after. It said he knew he was a shitty dad but at least Reilly had the house he could sell off for the money. He said ‘consider it my dying wish,’ so that’s what Reilly’s doing.” Nick takes another bite of his sandwich.
“Wow,” Mac mumbles. She swallows her mouthful of food, then asks, “So, Mr. Reilly didn’t even tell Josh he was sick? Otherwise he would’ve come home sooner, right, for the funeral at least.”
Nick shakes his head. “Reilly had no idea. I mean, I’m sure a part of him knew his dad was sick, how could he not after all the smoking and the drinking and the shape he was in before Reilly even left, but you know they were never close. Reilly thinks his dad thought he was keeping it from him as a favor; Reilly didn’t have to worry about anything if he didn’t know about any of it. But I personally think that’s giving the old man too much credit.”
I can hear the bitterness in Nick’s tone, and it makes me wonder how I could’ve forgotten how horrible Mr. Reilly was to his son. I’d heard their arguments firsthand, echoing off the lake some nights. It was how Reilly and I had gotten so close to begin with. I’d been the one to encourage him to leave, convince him that he deserved a better life away from his dad. That was before I’d fallen in love with him.
“How horrible,” Mac says, and she trains her scrutinizing gaze on me. I can feel it burning a hole through me. Ignoring her, I brush the errant breadcrumbs off my lap.
“How are you doing with all this, Sam? About Reilly coming back?”
I clear my throat and act distracted, uncertain what she expects me to say. While part of me knows I should forgive and forget and move on from all that happened between us, I don’t like what him being home means and how hard it will be for me on top of everything else. “What can I do? It is what it is.”
“True, but it can’t be that easy,” Mac says. “I know you still blame him for meddling—”
“It’s not like he’s coming home to harass Sam,” Nick says in Reilly’s defense. He frowns at Mac. “He’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides,” he adds more quietly, “Sam’s the one who ended things with him.”
“Yes, thank you, Nick. I don’t need the reminder,” I say tersely. “Everything will be fine. Can we drop it please?” The last thing I want to do is cause friction between the only two solid people in my life.
Nick sighs. “Sam, you know I love you like a sister. And I know you and Reilly have some shit between you, but he’s leaving after he deals with his dad’s place. I’m sure that if he knows you don’t want to see him, he’ll give you your space.”
“I know he’s not coming back here for me,” I say. “And it’s not that I don’t want to see him . . .” It’s just going to be excruciatingly hard. “Let’s talk about something else. Okay? Everything will be fine. I’ll be fine. I don’t expect anything to change.” But as I say the words, I have the sudden urge to cry for the first time in . . . a long time.
“God, I love Schmitty’s sandwiches,” Mac practically moans as she takes the last bite of her sandwich.
“Jesus,” Nick says, his face scrunched in disgust. “You need a man.” I almost snort as Mac opens her mouth, full of food, making Nick smile. I’m grateful they rally and change the subject, shifting the mood back to bearable.
After shoving the last of my sandwich into my mouth, I lean back. “I think I ate too much.” I groan and let out a deep breath.
“Same here.” Nick stands up. “And on that note . . .” He dry-washes his hands. “I need a cigarette.” He looks over at Mac. “You still smoking?”
“Hell no, I stopped that last week.”
Nick’s palms fly up defensively. “So sorry, I didn’t realize it had been so long since you kicked the habit.”
I snicker as Mac chucks her balled-up sandwich paper at his face, our unsettling conversation all but forgotten.
“There’s a fine for littering,” he chides, feigning seriousness, then he tosses Mac’s garbage into the deli bag full of our trash.
“Machaela!” A deep voice rumbles out of the shop across the street. Then Mr. Carmichael steps out of the doorway.
“Over here, Dad!”
He holds up the phone. “Sorry to break up your lunch date, but Mr. Vasquez is on hold again, and I’m going to say something I’ll regret if you don’t come deal with this pompous asshole about his damn POS.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles and climbs to her feet. “I
’m coming.” Mac tugs her skirt down and brushes the front of it off carefully.
“Hey, Mr. Carmichael!” I shout and wave over at him.
“Samantha,” he nods at me. “Nicholas.” Despite Cal Carmichael’s tattoos and motorcycles, he’s pretty old-school, which I’ve always liked about him. “Still smoking, I see.”
Nick shrugs. “What can I say, it’s addicting.”
“Alright,” Mac grunts as she leans down and kisses my cheek. “Next week we need to start thinking about our camping trip.”
“Are we still doing it the weekend of the twenty-fourth?” Nick asks. “I need to request time off from Lick’s.” He crumples up the bag of garbage, handing it to Mac.
“If that still works for you guys, then yeah. Otherwise it’s never going to happen.” Mac plants a goodbye kiss on Nick’s cheek. “I’ll reserve us a spot for two days, that’s all I can get off this time, sorry.”
Nick and I nod as we gather the rest of our things. “I thought your dad said you could take off all the time you wanted since you’ve been slaving away for him so much lately,” I ask, wondering if he changed his mind.
Mac practically scowls. “My dad doesn’t know what he needs. He can’t afford for me to take more than the weekend, since he’s closed anyway. Besides,” she says, twirling her mahogany-colored hair over her shoulder. “Are you going to take a week off from the ranch?”
I don’t appreciate the snide tinge in her voice and glare at her in reply.
“That’s what I thought,” she says with a smile. “Now, love you both but gotta go.”
I fold the blanket while Mac hurries back across the street toward the shop to deal with the Vasquez situation. “She’s got a point,” Nick comments, his hands crossed over his chest as we watch Mac chuck the garbage bag in the can outside the entrance to the shop, her bottle of water in the other hand.
“Text you tonight!” she calls with a wave.
I wave back, ignoring Nick’s comment.
Nick’s arms wrap around me, a solid, strong hug that I wish I could take home with me for later when I’m alone with my thoughts. “If you won’t come out with me tonight, at least call me later if you change your mind,” he says, more seriously now. “I know today’s hard for you.”
“Thanks, Nick,” I say sincerely and kiss his cheek. “But I’ll be okay.”
He winks at me and heads to the Explorer. “See you when the rooster crows,” he calls, then climbs inside.
With the blanket under one arm and my water bottle in the other hand, I make sure I have my keys before I meander toward the truck.
And as if my mind thought I needed one more thing to think about, my memories drift back to the last time Reilly came home.
Three years ago...
I creep into the foyer where Mike stands just outside the door, only partially closed.
“. . . you should’ve ended it a long time ago.” I hear a hard, angry growl. It’s Reilly. I haven’t talked to him in over a year, not since he called me after he’d gotten my letter. My heart stumbles and aches at the thought of him here. That he’s talking to Mike, that he’s trying to get him to leave me too, just like Reilly had done.
“Fuck you,” Mike snarls, and I silently cheer him on. “Who the hell do you think you are? My fucking mother? You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
The sound of what I assume is a fist against the side of the house makes me jump, and my hand flies up to cover my mouth.
“End it or I tell everyone.” Reilly’s voice is so hard, so angry I’m scared he might hurt Mike. Or maybe he already had. I’m prepared to fling the door open when I hear footsteps descending the porch steps.
“Okay, fine . . . wait.” I’m surprised to hear Mike’s plea and the footsteps cease. “Just give me a minute to think, would ya?”
Tell everyone what?
There are what feel like entire minutes of silence, my mind flooding with fear that Mike will listen to Reilly and rage that Reilly is meddling where he doesn’t belong . . . he’s just trying to hurt me back. I knew he wasn’t going to be happy when he found out I was dating Mike, but I didn’t think he’d take anything this far. He’s the one who left me.
“When did you decide to become such a dick, Reilly?” Mike spits out at him.
“When you decided to steal my girlfriend.”
Mike lets out an empty laugh. “What the hell does it matter to you, anyway? You don’t even live here anymore.”
Reilly says nothing, at least not that I can hear above my drumming heartbeat that booms in my ears and the shaking that rattles my body.
“End it,” Reilly demands.
Hearing movement, I take a few steps back. I fumble and grip the coatrack I back into.
Then, Mike flings the door open and finds me standing there, though he seems less surprised than I expected.
Reilly’s standing behind him. His scowl softens for an instant before he scans me up and down and his expression hardens into place again.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, my anger all but forgotten as my thoughts race. My heart nearly swells to see him standing there. It’s been months since—
“Should I leave you two alone?” Mike sneers, but I’m still stunned to see that Reilly’s home. “Why are you—what are you doing here?” I repeat. Then Reilly’s words replay in my mind, over and over. “Since you stole my girlfriend.” This is a punishment? “I can’t believe you,” I seethe and brush past Mike, slamming the door in Reilly’s face.
Mike is still staring at me when I look up at him. “What?” I ask. “Why are you glaring at me? You’re the one that agreed to that crap.”
Mike straightens. His eyes are harder than I’ve ever seen them, cold and foreign to me. “You still love him,” he says and shakes his head.
“What? No I don’t!” I take a step toward him.
“That was more than surprise on your face, that was longing.” Mike laughs bitterly. “Go ahead, run back to him. We’re through, anyway.”
“I don’t want him!” I take a step toward Mike. All I can feel is everything spinning out of control. “I left him for you.” I want to be angry, but desperation takes over at the thought of losing Mike—at the thought that he might actually be serious. The mere thought of not having him—of being alone—petrifies me. I try to steady my breathing, to exhale out my nose and curl my toes to anchor me to the floor, but something that feels like hysteria is coming alive inside me.
“You’re getting too attached, anyway. It should stop.”
“Too attached? It’s been over a year, of course I’m attached. What’s changed? What’s he holding over you that would make you even consider listening to him?”
Mike looks bored. “I’ve outgrown us—”
“Outgrown us? When? When you were buying me this bracelet?” I ask. Anger grabs hold of me and bolsters my every word. “In between fucking me in your bedroom? On the couch—twice? Is that when you were outgrowing me?” I shake my head. “You’re not making any sense—”
“There are others, Sam!” he shouts, and I’m taken aback. “God, how can you not see that? I thought it was cute at first, sweet that you’re so naïve, and I wanted to play your little game, but it’s not cute anymore.”
My heart cracks and bleeds and burns more and more with every word.
“What did you think, that we’d live happily ever after? You’re just a pastime, Sam. One of many. There is no future for us. Why do you think I travel so much? I hate this godforsaken town. I have no idea why my parents even wanted to build a house here, so why would I ever settle down here? You work on a ranch, for Christ’s sake.”
Cold sweat permeates my skin as all warmth drains from my body. “I can’t breathe,” I say, and I nearly collapse to the ground. Mike reaches for his phone in his pocket, oblivious to my world falling apart around me. “You’re”—I swallow—“you’re breaking up with me . . . because of him.” This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening . . . not l
ike this.
Mike shows me his phone as it flashes. Bethany’s name is on the screen, a photo of her cleavage as her contact picture. “See.”
Somehow I’ve made it to the stairs, and I lower myself down to the first step. I rub my hands over my thighs repeatedly, trying to keep the impending cold and numbness at bay. Branches scrape against the windows as a gust of wind rushes by the house.
I stare up at him, vision blurred by tears. “But you said you loved me, you always tell me you love me . . .”
Mike ignores me and answers Bethany’s call. “Hey,” he says without any scruples. “Nothing important. Yeah. Okay.” He rips his jacket off the coatrack, making it clank to the floor.
He’s actually leaving me here. Anguish seizes my heart and my head pounds with disbelief as I finally start to believe him. I’m a thing he wanted, a toy.
This isn’t real.
Mike shoves his phone back into his pocket. “You should go home,” he says, exasperated, and walks out. He slams the door behind him, leaving me to sit on the stairs in his foyer, alone and sobbing.
For a minute, I think ignorance is better than feeling like this. We were happy. I was happy.
Reilly did this. We were fine until he showed up.
There’s a crash outside as the wind picks up again. I don’t want to stay here alone, I can’t bear it. This house is tainted, blaringly empty and taunting me. I suddenly can’t even stand to be in my own skin.
I have no choice. Mac is gone and Nick is drunk. There’s another crash outside accompanying the wind.
I have to call Papa.
Five
Whatever It Takes (A Saratoga Falls Love Story Book 1) Page 5