Finding A Way (37 page)

He even patched the eaten shoe back together using gorilla glue, a needle, and thread. It didn’t look the best, and it definitely wasn't wearable, but the thought he put into fixing them made me speechless.

My pink converse now sit on the mantle of the fireplace in the living room, right next to a picture of the three of us when he took me to park for the first time. Mac had stopped a stranger, asking him to take a picture of his family: Mac, Nook, and me. A family.

That was even before he asked me to move in with him. I knew it would happen eventually. I just didn't expect it to be so soon, but I can’t complain because I love living with him and Nook.

I make myself comfortable on the couch, flipping the TV on and turning on Nook's favorite channel. She runs from the kitchen full force, wiping out as she rounds the corner too quickly. Hardwood floors are not her friend. I laugh at her as she tries to regain her balance. She admits defeat, taking her time to walk in the living room. I snuggle up with her, flipping through my phone, landing on Mac's name. I send him a text I’m willing to bet will have his ass home in fifteen minutes.

While you’re at work getting cars ready for their owners… I’m at home, in our bed… getting myself ready for my owner. Hurry home before you miss your chance to rev my engine, stud. Love you!

I hit send, smiling to myself. He'll never be able to resist that. Mac's weakness, the only way he'll put down his drill, is when I text him dirty things. It's kind of become our thing over the past few months.

I feel my phone vibrating in my hand, smiling to myself. I figure Mac is doing ninety to get home, and calling to tell me I better be naked in his bed, and not kidding.

I look down, seeing Ryleigh's name flashing across the screen. I get disappointed when I see it's not Mac, but I answer anyway.

"Hey Ryleigh. What's up?"

There's mumbling in the background followed by Ryleigh yelling at someone to shut up.

"I'm bringing your drunken boyfriend home to you, that's what's up, and he weighs a fuckin' ton! What do you feed this schmuck, Callie? He doesn't look heavy, but I can assure ya, he fuckin' is!" She grumbles, sounding flustered.

Why the hell would Mac be drinking? He said he was working at the garage. What the fuck is going on? I feel my blood pressure shoot through the roof while I answer her.

"Why the hell was he at the bar? He was supposed to be working," I state, my clipped tone echoing like I'm on speakerphone right now.

I hear Mac mumbling how sorry he is in the background, and I feel my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. My first thoughts are he cheated on me. He lied about where he was going and he got too drunk to drive home. I will kill the bitch who thought she could touch my man without me finding out, but not before killing him, too.

Ryleigh lets out a long sigh, her tone getting softer.

"Everything is okay. I'll explain everything when I get to ya house, but I'm going to need a ride back to the bar. I'm still on the clock."

"Okay," I snap.

“Guys
stop with the shit already! I swear, I’ll boot ya asses out so fast ya heads will spin." I glare at the two college guys who think it's a good idea to wrestle each other in a small bar full of people.

The one guy makes a remark about my tits and what he'd like to do to them. Rolling my eyes, I throw him the finger, counting over my tips for the night so far. I'm fifty bucks richer because men think if they tip me good enough, I'll let them take me home.

Fat chance boys.

I shove my tips in my bra, keeping them safe from thieving hands. No one's gonna get it in there. My tits are like a lock box. The only way you're getting near them is if you have the key, and the only person who has the key is my girlfriend Susan.

"Ry, round ‘em up. The good shit," I hear in front of me.

I look up seeing Mac who looks like he's been through hell and back. His eyes have bags under them, which normally I would assume is from the person crying, but this jackass doesn't cry. He's a good guy, and I love him like a brother, but he's as tough as stone. Nothing breaks him. He may need advice from time to time, but let’s face it; everyone does at some point in their lives.

"What's the occasion?" I say, letting out a small laugh.

I grab a shot glass and a bottle of his favorite bad mood curing drink. Jameson.

Mac's face stays mute, showing no emotion at all, and it scares the hell out of me. Normally, bad mood or not, his emotions write themselves across his face, but not tonight.

I pour him a shot, leaving the bottle on the bar since he looks like he’s gonna need it.

"She's gonna fucking leave me, Ry." He tosses back his shot quickly and pours himself another in his glass.

"What do you mean, she's gonna leave ya? Did you boot her out or something because last time I checked, that chick is head over heels for ya."

He lets out a scoff, fishing out pieces of his broken cell phone from his jeans and tossing them on the bar top.

"I would let you listen to the message, but my phone’s broken."

I raise my eyebrows, observing the fifty pieces on the bar as I ask him what the hell he’s talking about.

"Looks like it's more than broken. What the fuck are you talking about? Message? What message? Why are ya actin' so shiesty?"

He tosses back another shot he poured himself, running his free hand down his face roughly. He looks like he'd claw his own eyes out if I wouldn't stop him.

"Caroline called."

I watch him pour another shot, this time filling the glass to the rim, and tossing it back quickly.
Caroline.
I rack my brain for the name to appear, and it hits me. The druggie's sister, Caroline.

"Hasn't the scootch called ya a million times? What's so different about this one?" I ask while I wipe down a bar glass.

"She's pregnant." He grimaces, drowning himself in another shot.

I raise my eyebrows at him before asking the question on my mind.

"Does she not know who the father is or some shit? Because from what I hear, and I hear a lot, was she is screwing half of the townies. That trash bag gives me the skeeves."

Mac's eyes lock shut as he lets out a long sigh.

"She knows who the father is."

I stare back at him. He's gotta give me something here. Bits and pieces of information are not making me understand why he's drinking himself into a coma. I know he cared about this chick a long time ago being it was his ex's sister, but just because she's pregnant doesn't mean it's his problem. It's the baby's daddy's problem.

As soon as I repeat my thoughts again, my mouth falls open.

Holy fucking shit.

"Fuck outta here! Ya slept with her, you schmuck!" I yell at him from across the bar.

It's not a question, but more of a statement. He picks his head up to look at me, and the tears which form in the corners of his eyes tell me all I need to know. He’s officially the world's biggest dumbass.

His head falls into his hands and he lets out a groan.

"It was when I first kicked Callie to the curb. A couple days into not seeing her, I was at the garage and Caroline showed up there. I was pissed the hell off. It meant nothing to me, but in her head, it was another story. It was a mistake. The entire thing was a mistake. She's been blowing my phone up nonstop and I kept hitting ignore. I figured if I ignored her then it would all just go away."

I give him a sympathetic smile. I feel bad for him. Caroline is like a bee who keeps flying around, bothering the shit out of you while you swat at it, and then when you least expect, it stings.

I slide the bottle toward him, touching his arm in a comforting way.

"I think you need this. I'll drive ya home when you're ready to go."

He nods his head in my direction, filling up his glass.

"I'm so screwed Ry. She's gonna leave me. I can't lose that girl. I just fucking can't."

My eyes well with tears of their own as I watch the man I've known for five years break before me. I pat him on the arm, comforting him.

"It'll be all righ’."

My head feels like someone has been hitting me with a shovel repeatedly. My eyes hurt, my body hurts. Everything hurts. I struggle to roll over seeing Callie's side of the bed has been slept in.
Thank fucking God.
She didn’t leave. She stayed. I can only imagine what came out of my mouth last night. I remember Ryleigh bringing me home, but all in all, things are a bit fuzzy.

A phone dings from the nightstand and I scramble toward it, immediately regretting my quick movements which make my head pound. I take a minute to realize it's an older phone I had lying around and Callie must have had my number switched over at some point between last night and this morning. I see a few notifications on my screen from Callie. As the automated system prompts me to type in my password, I hear the sweet melody of her voice in my ear as the message plays through.

I hope you're feeling good today, but I highly doubt it. I hope you don't mind I activated your number into a different phone since Ryleigh said yours is still sitting in a million pieces on the bar.

“You weigh a ton Malcolm Davis, and you're incredibly hard to reason with when you're drunk. I left some pain medicine on the island, and there's coffee in the pot. I had to go to class, finals. If not, I would’ve stayed until you woke up. I love you.”

“So I'm going to address the elephant in the room because I can't take my exams with this on my mind. Ryleigh told me everything last night, including who Caroline really is. If she's really pregnant, and you're the father, then we will work it out. I love you. I'm not leaving you. I'm not throwing what we have away.”