“Then, I’ll tell you again,” she said.
“Deal,” he said, and he managed a slight smile.
She threaded her fingers through his and then held on, needing more than just her strength to get through this.
“I know it’s not your fault you didn’t know about the miscarriage. It’s Mom and Dad’s fault. They lied to me. Their lies were unfair to both of us, and we fell right into the mess they made for us. I will never know or understand why. But I should have called you the moment I got back to Mystic, and I didn’t. You should have asked me about what you heard, but you didn’t. We were both so young, and we loved so hard, that the first time we faced a crisis, we broke. I just want you to know how sorry I am. We lost so much. I would give anything to get that back.”
Mack’s grip tightened around her fingers. “So would I,” he said.
The panic she’d been feeling began to fade. It was like getting her best friend ever back in her life. She tried to smile but was so overwhelmed by what was happening between them that all she could do was cry.
“No, Lissa, don’t cry. This is all good, okay?”
She nodded as she swiped at the tears, but they just kept coming. “I’m happy and I’m scared and I’m frustrated. Your father was murdered, I’m being stalked, there’s a killer among us and no one has the slightest idea of where to start looking. I’m not allowed to go back to my house until the stalker is caught. Chief Jakes said the man was too dangerous. I even had to take a leave of absence from school because he also believes the stalker might try to get to me at school, and that would put the children’s lives in danger. Everything is wonderful between us because we’ve made peace, and everything’s awful about what’s happening to us, and that’s why I’m crying.”
Mack groaned. He could feel himself fading again. “You’ll be with me. We’ll do it...together. Sorry. Can’t...”
And then he was out.
Lissa stumbled backward to the chair where she’d spent the night and sank into the seat, too numb to think beyond what he had said. They would be together.
She wasn’t alone in the world anymore.
* * *
T. J. Silver heard the news about Mack Jackson’s bravery at the coffee shop while he was waiting for his father. His eyes narrowed angrily as he listened to the waitress extolling Mack’s heroism to the couple at the table behind him.
“...said she found him covered in blood and hasn’t left his side since,” she said.
That alone pissed him off. He’d gone to check on her and been rebuffed. But Jackson was an old flame, and his father’s death had brought them back together. Life was an ironic fuckup, and he didn’t give a damn who she liked. He could have his pick of all the girls. It just pissed him off that she’d been the one to end the relationship. It was the only failure of his entire life, and he had no idea how to handle it.
He heard the door jingle and looked up to see his father approaching the table. Good. He was ready to get busy with his father’s upcoming announcement that he was running for the district’s state senate seat. They had almost settled on a campaign manager and needed to set a firm date for the announcement party so things could get under way.
T.J. smiled at his dad as he sat down and handed him a menu.
“I’m having the roast beef sandwich au jus and peach cobbler. What sounds good to you?”
Marcus shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
T.J. frowned. “What’s wrong, Dad? Are you feeling okay?”
Marcus glanced around the crowded diner. He knew nearly every face in here and was better off financially than all of them, and yet the excitement was gone from his life. He was bothered by a lot of things and didn’t know how to put them into words.
“I’m fine,” he said abruptly. “That cobbler sounds good, but I believe I’ll have the beans and corn bread today.”
T.J. arched an eyebrow. “Beans and corn bread. Eating lowbrow, are you?”
Marcus looked up and frowned at the smirk on his son’s face. “I like beans and corn bread, and just because food is cheap to make doesn’t mean it’s beneath us to eat it.”
T.J. caught the glimmer of criticism in the tone of his father’s voice and immediately shifted his attitude.
“Oh, no, no, that’s not what I meant, Dad. Sorry if I came across a little snobby. I was just making conversation, that’s all.”
Marcus shrugged it off. He loved his son, but he’d been spoiled by the good life, something that he had to take the blame for, but he didn’t have to tolerate him being a snob.
“So what’s on your agenda today?” Marcus asked as he waved the waitress over so they could order.
T.J. leaned forward, excitement in his voice as he said, “Helping you plan your announcement party. Do you still want to do it at Christmas? I think it would be the proper time, but if so, we need to get that guest list finalized, and invitations printed and sent out by Thanksgiving at the latest.”
Marcus hesitated. “I guess. Timing is everything, and I don’t want to jump the gun before everything else is in place.”
T.J. leaned back, accepting his father’s decision.
“Whatever you say, Dad. This is your thing, not mine. I just want to do my part to help when you give the word.”
Marcus sighed. “You’re a good son. I guess I need to go ahead and make that trip to the capitol, hire that campaign manager and then let him do all the work. That’s what I’ll be paying him for, right?”
“Right. Are you going today?”
“Yes, I’ll leave right after we eat.”
T.J. was glad the ball was finally rolling on his dad’s big dream, and when the waitress arrived at their table, he flashed a broad smile.
“Hello, Jennifer. We’re ready to order now.” He gave her his order while Marcus stared absently across his son’s head to the people beyond.
* * *
It was noon when Louis left the ER with a half dozen staples in his forehead, butterfly bandages on the smaller cuts on his face and wads of gauze stuffed up his nose. His clothing was mostly dry, and he didn’t have a concussion or any broken bones, thanks to the fact that the water-soaked ceiling tiles had come apart in soggy pieces on impact. If it hadn’t been for the metal grid holding them, which had also fallen, he would have been fine.
However, one eye was swollen shut, and his lips were so puffy it hurt to talk. The bruising on his face was going to be spectacular by tomorrow, the doctor had told him. Louis wasn’t quite sure how to take that, but he was very glad tomorrow was Saturday. By the time Monday rolled around, he planned to be back at work. No way was he going to be stuck at home with his mother and Reece for days on end. The weekend would be enough.
An orderly going off duty had offered to drive him home, but Louis asked to be taken back to the school parking lot instead. He needed his truck to go get Mama.
“Man, are you sure you’re fit to drive?” the orderly asked as he pulled up behind Louis’s truck.
“I can walk and talk and I can see. I can drive myself home,” Louis said.
Reece was asleep when Louis walked into the house. It felt strange to be back this time of day. Bobo trotted out to meet him and licked the toe of his work shoe as Louis paused in the hall. When he didn’t hear any movement, he went into the kitchen.
He’d missed eating breakfast at school, and he’d missed lunch, which was also at school. Even though he hurt, he knew he needed to eat something or the pain meds they’d given him would make him sick.
He was prowling through the refrigerator for something easy when his phone signaled a text. It was from the principal, Mr. Wilson, asking if he was okay and if he needed anything.
Louis was touched that his boss had been concerned enough to check on him and sent a quick text back.
I’m okay. Don’t need anything.
Bobo whined once as he sniffed at him again. Louis guessed he smelled funny. The hospital had used all kinds of antiseptic stuff on him.
“Yes, it’s still me, Bobo. I just hurt. Do you want out?”
Bobo trotted toward the door.
As soon as the dog was outside, Louis opted for something soft and got a leftover bowl of macaroni and cheese, nuked it in the microwave, then sat down at the table with a fork and ate it. When he’d had enough to satisfy the gripe in his belly, he put it back in the refrigerator. He didn’t feel like going to the store or doing anything fancy for his mother’s visit, so he let the dog in, set the alarm to wake himself up in plenty of time to go pick her up and then went to bed.
It felt strange to be going to bed this early, but he was beginning to ache in every muscle and he wanted to cry. Instead, he pulled up the covers and closed his eyes. Because of the gauze in his nostrils he was going to have to sleep with his mouth open, which would make him snore.
It was not the best day of his life.
* * *
Lissa was sitting cross-legged in the chair near Mack’s bed. He talked in his sleep, either from the pain meds or it was a habit she’d known nothing about, but she had heard enough to know he was dreaming, and in the dreams he was young. He kept mumbling his mother’s name and telling her he’d fed the puppy. He muttered something about going to his grandparents’ house, and then moaned and settled again. He woke briefly and told her that he loved her, and then drifted back to sleep.