“Stop making excuses for me. Tell me what I did. All I’ve got to go on is what Fred had to say about it, and that’s fucking killing me.”
“That was me, too,” she admitted. “I panicked. I sicced him on you.”
“What’d I do to make you panic?” Her dragging this out was torture in itself.Rip the band-aid off, sweetheart.
Bracing herself, she turned her face up toward him. “It was an argument to begin with. Actually, you werefinewhen we got to the boat. Annoying as hell because you were upset over hitting me, and you kept grabbing for me so you could look at my face. But you were a drunk pest, my face felt like it was twice its size, and I wasn’t happy to have been called there, but I owed you.”
Giving him a look that undoubtedly matched the level of her irritation that night, she added, “I don’t think you realized your own strength, but your hands are very strong.”
He kept his mouth shut, let her talk, but his eyes didn’t leave her face.
“I don’t know what set you off. But you started in on me, saying the craziest things. I ignored you for the most part. I knew I shouldn’t have engaged with a drunk, but I was pissed and irritated, and you’d lied, and Jason had lied, and I snapped at you, and I told you I knew about Josie.”
Mac grimaced.
“I said things that were bad. As bad as the things you said to me. You retaliated, throwing Elijah in my face. I slapped you. It escalated from there.” She paused, watching him as though looking for some sign of recall.
There wouldn’t be any. That night was a complete blank.
“Howdid it escalate?” Mac pressed.
“Words at first. Yelling. It didn’t get physical until…”
Mac stared at her, his heartbeat racing. “Physical, how?”
“You kept grabbing for me. I tried to push you off. I even spit in your face to get you away from me. And then we…” She frowned, looking away again.
“What else?”
She bit her lower lip.
“Tell me, Cassidy,” he prompted sternly.
The look she raised to him was apologetic—like she was sorry to have to tell him he’d accosted her—it made him hate himself, that he could hurt her and makeherfeel like she was doing something wrong by telling him about his actions.
She shrugged. “You shook me. I kicked you. You fell back against the console, knocking the throttle.” She looked concerned how he would react to the news, but he merely listened.
Frowning, she struggled to recall, or to retell. “I was able to get off the bench and swing around to the back. But I tripped and fell to the deck. You followed me and took advantage of my position.” She paused when she noticed the horror of his expression. “Not likethat—but you were on top of me, holding me down, yelling at me.”
Mac dropped his head. The rage pulsing through him would do no good now, and she didn’t need to see anger in his eyes.
“I didn’t feel threatened by you inthatway—that wasn’t my concern. I was trying to throw you off of me. You were trying to keep me still—trying to hold my attention—in all of the chaos. We were screaming at each other; we were both out of control. There was so much hurt and anger, we were saying things we didn’t…” She paused and said with more of a question in her voice than as a statement, “mean?”
“For instance,” he prompted.
“I told you that you were cruel to drag everyone’s pain out and not let go of Josie sooner. I told you that you were selfish. That you were a liar. Th-that you were a monster.”
Mac lifted his gaze to her again. “What didIsay toyou?”
Her expression fell into one of exhaustion and defeat. “You were drunk, Mac. You were grieving.”
A chill passed through him. “What the fuck did I say to you?”
“Does it matter?” she asked, looking up at him, her eyes begging him not to make her repeat it. “Does what I said make you mad? Do you want me to apologize for it? For pissing you off then? I’m sorry.”
He was shaking his head—had to be looking at her like she’d lost her damn mind—apologizing?“No. The fuck! Stop it.”
“Then I don’t see how it matters,” she said.