Linebacker’s Second Chance(4)
I tap my feet against the stone wall, trying to convince myself that everything is okay. Then, there’s a distant sound at the end of the dusty road, a rumbling that could only be Mack’s big-ass truck, the old white Ford that barely works and rumbles over every nook and cranny in the asphalt, that bounces angrily over the gravel and dirt on these Carolina back roads. Through the dust, the truck appears like a great white specter, surrounded by billowing clouds of dust and spitting gravel. The body behind the wheel is massive and muscular, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Still, I assure myself that everything is as it should be, that Mack is sitting there, ready to take me away from this place for good. Jumping down from the wall, I start running towards the car.
“Mack!” I yell, hoping my mother will hear, hoping she’ll hear the sense of fulfillment in my voice. The voice that says, I am here, and I am ready to spend the rest of my life with you. “Mack!” I shout his name again, but as the truck pulls closer, I already know that it’s not Mack sitting behind the wheel. “Macklin…” My voice trails off, hoarse. Instead of Mack Pride, my fiancé, it’s Jared, Mack’s brother. Equally broad and muscular but with a scrunched up, angry face and not even half the personality and smarts of his brother. My heart sinks. There must have been an accident. Even in my white summer dress, I fall down to my knees as Jared parks the car, gets out, and walks toward me. The movements of his body are eerily like Mack’s, but somehow colder and more distant.
“There’s been a new development, Renata.” His voice is cool and formal, like he’s talking to an insurance representative on the phone. “I don’t think you’re going to like it. We all know you’ve been trying to cling to Macklin while he gets his life together and goes out for the NFL. But it looks like he’s figured out what kind of woman you are.”
“What…” My brain doesn’t quite compute the words coming from Jared’s mouth. He keeps walking toward me, but it’s like time has slowed down to a near standstill, and the words he’s saying have no meaning to my brain. Mack told me he loves me, a thousand times. He told me we’d never be apart. We’d keep going like this forever.
“The engagement is off.” Jared shrugs and remains standing about six feet in front of me, like he can’t bear to get any closer. It’s no secret that our families hate each other, but these words and ideas couldn’t be coming from Mack. That’s not him.
“No, no it’s not.” Fueled by anger, I climb to my feet and stand, facing Jared with all the rage I can muster. I struggle with the information, the pictures of Mack’s proposal circling around in my head. We’ll always be together, Renata. Just say yes. And I’d looked at him with a quizzical look on my face. Why wouldn’t I say yes? I was in love with him for years before I finally gave in and defied all the wishes of my family. Before I gave in and followed my heart. Yes, yes, yes. Of course I’ll marry you.
And now, there’s a man in front of me telling me otherwise.
It’s not true. It couldn’t be true.
“Well, Renata,” he huffs. “That’s a true fact. You can drive up to our house, but Mack is gone. He left for his meeting with the team early, and he’s in one of them fancy hotels in Charlotte. Looks like he’ll be their linebacker, and he wants nothing to do with you.”
“No. That’s not true!” I scream the words and fumble around frantically, grabbing my purse and pulling out my phone. “I don’t believe it.” I pull up Mack’s number from my favorites and dial him immediately, heart pounding hard in my ears. I taste blood and salt in my mouth, like all the times my mother and father have shouted at me, like every time they’ve shamed me. Except this is worse. Mack’s own flesh and blood is standing in front of me, kicking me down with his words like I’m lower than a dog. He couldn’t resist the dig at my family, couldn’t resist telling me what kind of woman I am. “It’s not true, goddammit,” I hiss as the phone starts to ring.
And then it rings, on and on. And Mack is usually the man who picks up on the first ring, eager to hear my voice.
If he doesn’t answer, I’ll drive down to Charlotte myself and—
“Hello?” Mack answers sleepily, and if I’m not mistaken, I hear the sound of a hangover in my voice.
This isn’t like him. This isn’t like him at all. He barely drinks. What is going on?
“Mack? What’s this about the engagement? Are you really in Charlotte?”