Discovering You (22 page)

20

N
atasha was still at the body shop. When Mack came home for dinner, she'd already left the house. But that'd been several hours ago. It was getting late and she wasn't back, which was why he hadn't gone to bed. He was waiting up, watching TV in the living room, to be sure she returned safely.

As a sports analyst talked about the latest Giants game, he read over the texts he'd sent her throughout the day. She'd ignored all of them.

You're not going to answer? I said I was sorry and I meant it.

Come on, Tash. Forgive me. Please?

Hello?

You don't have any right to be mad!

Okay, I get it. You do have a right to be mad. But you have to understand that this is hard for me, too.

He felt like a scumbag trying to garner sympathy by pulling the “this is hard for me, too” card. He had nine years on her and a lot more life experience. He shouldn't be complaining. But he was growing desperate. He couldn't bear the thought of her hating him. Why couldn't they find neutral ground somewhere
between
love and hate?

“What're you watching?”

He nearly grimaced with distaste when Anya walked into the room. J.T. had gone to bed over an hour ago. He'd assumed she'd retired with him.
“SportsCenter.”

“Fun.”
Her sarcasm tempted him to say she should go watch her own TV. She had one in the bedroom. But he bit his tongue. He'd long ago decided it was usually best to ignore her. Now that Natasha had graduated and they didn't have to be so careful to keep life calm and stable for her sake, maybe they could tell J.T. and Anya that it was time to move out. His father didn't particularly annoy him. He sort of liked J.T.—a lot more than his brothers did. But Anya got under his skin like nobody else. Some of the stuff she said to him and Rod and Grady was so overtly sexual it was embarrassing. Grady had once confided that she'd walked in on him when he was getting out of the shower, and he felt certain she'd done it on purpose.

“So Natasha's leaving for college early, huh?” she said.

Mack was surprised she knew. Natasha rarely spoke to her; they weren't close. And
he
hadn't volunteered the information. “Who told you?”

“My daughter, of course. You may look after her like an old hen, but I'm the one who gave birth to her. Why, is her change of plans a secret?”

“No. Just relatively new.”

“So she
is
going.”

“Yes. In a week.” To get a reasonable airfare, they'd had to wait that long.

“Any idea why?”

“You didn't ask her when she told you?”

“I asked. She didn't answer.”

He shrugged. “I guess she's eager to get out on her own.”

“It's got nothing to do with you?”

When she took the conversation in
that
direction, Mack felt his stomach twist into knots. “Why would her moving out have anything to do with me?”

She slouched onto the ottoman not far away. “Really? You're going to play dumb?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, stop pretending,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You've wanted her since the moment I brought her here.”

Mack gripped the remote so tightly he thought he might break it. “Anya, if you'd like to keep living under this roof and enjoying the other necessities we provide, like food, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. I haven't done anything questionable where Natasha's concerned. Matter of fact, I've tried to be good to her. To take care of her.” He could've gone on, could've mentioned that he'd had to fill the gap because her own mother had done such a poor job, but he didn't see anything to be gained by turning this into a screaming match. Rod wasn't home, but Grady was. Mack hoped to get through this evening, and the rest of Natasha's stay in the house, without drawing attention to his problem.

He braced himself for whatever she might say, but she surprised him by agreeing. “You think I haven't noticed that? She's one of the lucky few who knows what it's like to be truly loved by a man. You've been better to her than anyone's ever been to me—I can tell you that.”

He doubted Natasha could be called
lucky
. But he did care about her. Deeply. “Then let's agree to leave it there.”

“Sure, if that's where you want to leave it, although I have a few thoughts on the subject—”

“I don't want to hear them,” he broke in. “Thank you.”

She got up to leave, then turned back. “I get that you have no love or respect for me. Maybe I've earned that. But I'm going to do you a favor, anyway. She's not a child anymore, Mack. You can have her if you want her.”

The front door opened before he could respond and Natasha walked in. She took one look at her mother, shifted her gaze to him, then went to her room without greeting either one of them.

“I'll continue to do what's best for her,” he murmured to Anya.

“Even if it's not what's best for you?” She threw up her hands. “Suit yourself.”

She acted as if he was needlessly hurting himself
and
Natasha, but if
she
condoned them getting together, there had to be something wrong with it. He never wanted to be on her side.

She had one thing right, though. He loved her daughter.

Mack sat there for another thirty minutes, hoping Natasha would come out and talk to him. But he knew that wasn't going to happen when he heard the shower go on in the bathroom down the hall from her room. She was getting ready for bed.

After turning off the TV, he started for his own room. He had to work in the morning, and the day would be a long one. Since Rod was taking time off, they'd all have to carry a heavier load. But he never made it as far as the stairs that led to the basement. He migrated to Natasha's room, hoping to have a few words with her when she got out of the shower, just to make sure she was okay.

His computer, which he let her use, was on her desk. He sat down to search the internet while he waited, but as soon as the screen saver dissolved, he saw that she'd been on Facebook, scrolling through pictures posted by her fellow high school graduates, who were on a senior trip to San Diego.

She'd never mentioned a senior trip. She probably hadn't wanted to ask for the money.

Or maybe it wasn't a school-sponsored event and she hadn't been invited...

He clicked through the pictures, then got distracted by a message that said, “See how far we've come,” which linked to a page that showed the seniors as babies. Natasha's entire graduating class had posted baby pictures alongside their senior pictures. Except for her. She'd sent in a photo of one of Dylan's dogs as a puppy.

Mack remembered hearing her ask her mother for a baby photo a few weeks ago, remembered Anya saying she didn't have one. Anya claimed they'd all been “burned in the fire,” but Mack had never heard about a fire, and Natasha didn't recall one, either. More likely, Anya had lost Natasha's baby pictures somewhere along the way, since nothing mattered to her more than drugs, and she used to be even worse than she was now.

But why had Natasha turned in a puppy picture?

He read through the comments. Some guy named “Teto” said she was a cute pup and he'd like to do her “doggy style.” Mack wished he could put his fist through that kid's face, but the sexual innuendo didn't upset him nearly as much as some of the comments made by the girls. “And she's still a dog,” or “Now we know she's always been a bitch.”

“What're you doing in my room?”

Mack had gotten so caught up he'd forgotten to listen for the shower. Natasha was standing in the doorway. She wasn't wearing one of his T-shirts; she'd put on the real pajamas Rod had given her last Christmas. The fact that she'd eschewed his T-shirt was significant, but instead of commenting on that, he motioned to his computer. “Why the dog pic?”

“What else was I supposed to use? It was an assignment. I had to turn in
something
if I didn't want it to affect my grade.”

“Dylan's dog—that was the best you could think of?”

“Would you rather I used stock art of some random baby? Pretend I was just like everyone else? I'm not
that
desperate.” She waved a hand. “Doesn't matter, anyway. I got the points and the grade I needed.”

She had to be hurt by what some of her peers had posted, but, in typical Natasha fashion, she was dismissing it as if she was too tough for that. “What're you doing in here, anyway?” she asked. “Did you come to get your computer?”

“No. I came to tell you that you can take it to school with you.”

“I don't need it,” she said. “I'm planning to buy my own.”

“You won't have the money, not for some time, and you'll need a computer. I hardly ever have to type anything. I text, so my phone's more convenient. Take it.”

“No, it's yours. I can rent one.”

“Take it!” he insisted.

She shrugged, but he couldn't tell if she was acquiescing or just refusing to argue. “Is that all?” she said. “Because I'm kinda tired.”

He scratched his neck. “You don't want to talk about last night?”

She wouldn't look at him. “I'd rather forget it, but every detail is permanently etched in my brain. Ah... Oh!...” she panted, mimicking Bella. “Yes! God, that's good.”

He cringed. “Thanks for the vivid reminder.”

“No problem. I'm glad you had fun.”

“Natasha—”

“Don't. It's fine,” she said. “You don't owe me anything. I get that. I'm the one who was out of line.”

“Bringing Bella home was a mistake, and I'm sorry. I'm
very
sorry. I wish I hadn't done it. My mind is...not where it should be.”

“Couldn't you have waited until I was gone? But...okay.” She began straightening her room, which was almost spotless. She'd always been a neat freak, usually cleaned
his
room, too.

“I feel terrible about it,” he admitted.

She hesitated. Then, to his relief, she seemed to soften. “Don't feel bad. I was in the wrong to begin with.”

Wait. This wasn't what he wanted to hear, either. How was
she
in the wrong? By accurately judging his interest and responding to it? Now she seemed to have convinced herself that she'd been crazy to ever believe he could want her. She was so used to disappointment that she was already trying to accept his rejection—despite the mixed signals she'd been receiving and how upset she'd been just this morning. “Seriously?”

“Of course. Feel free to call whoever it was you fucked last night and have her over again. This is your house, and I'm a guest in it. I'll stay out of your way.”

He had no interest in Bella, wished he'd never touched her. “You're
not
a guest in this house. That's the problem. Why, did Grady say something to you?” That
guest
stuff sounded as though someone had taken her to task for misbehaving...

“No, I just figured out what you've been trying to tell me.
Duh
, right?”

Uncrossing his feet, he leaned forward. “And what is that?”

“I kept thinking that once I grew up, once I was ‘old enough,' we could be together. But I was wrong. I'm not too young for you. I'm too
old
.”

Mack felt his eyebrows come together. “Can you explain that?”

“To fit into your life,” she said. “Now that I'm a woman, I'm sort of in this ‘no man's land.' You want to fuck me, but you feel like you can't, so you don't know what to do with me.”

That was true. As usual, she understood perfectly—
too
well. He wanted her beneath him, welcoming him inside her. But he couldn't touch her in that way, refused to be the kind of lecher that would make him.

“So I'm backing off, like you asked,” she said. “And I hope it's soon enough that you're not sorry you met me. You've done so much for me.” Her throat worked as if she was fighting tears. “You've been there for me so many times when no one else was. Thank you.”

The chair creaked as he leaned forward again. It was hard not to get up and go to her. “Natasha, I could
never
regret knowing you.”

She offered him a sad smile. “Good. Then at least we'll part friends.”

Finished with the few things she could put right in her room, she climbed into bed and slid beneath the covers.

She'd put an end to the conversation, but there was so much more Mack wished he could say. He wished he could tell her how beautiful she was, regardless of what those mean girls had posted on Facebook. How hard it was for him to let her go and how much he'd miss her. She'd been such a big part of his life for the past two years—the part he always looked forward to. It'd gotten to the point that he couldn't wait to see her when he got up or got home from work, if she was at school and not at the shop with him.

But admitting any of that would only take them back to what they couldn't have, and it wasn't fair to give her false hope. He felt as though the sexual tension that had developed recently was his fault, because he hadn't been able to mask his interest well enough.

“Good night,” he murmured, but he didn't leave. He waited until she'd fallen asleep. Then, with a sigh, he walked out and closed the door behind him.

* * *

India sat across from Frank and June Siddell at a café several blocks from where they lived. They'd called first thing in the morning to let her know they had some information, so she'd arranged to meet them for lunch.

Rod wasn't included. He'd asked to come, but as much as India liked and trusted the Siddells, she didn't see why anyone had to know about Rod. If the Siddells weren't aware of who he was or the fact that he was involved, they couldn't give him away, even accidentally.