That set off another round of quiet tears. She half turned on the bench as though she wanted to escape his scrutiny. After a few minutes, she wiped her cheeks again, her gaze chasing to the dock, then the boathouse beyond. Pushing her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. “I’ve missed him.” She covered her face with her hands again as more tears threatened, whispering, “Mac.”
Mac stared at her, knowing she’d meant to say Fred, but hearing his name from her lips in such a soft, desperate voice sent chills and heat through him at the same time. After a few beats, he assured her quietly, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”
Her intake of breath alerted them both to the fact she was aware of what she’d said.
He waited.
She didn’t walk it back, didn’t explain it, and didn’t acknowledge his response. Instead, she let the moment go by as she dried off her cheeks, studiously not looking at him.
He had to know. “Are you afraid of me, Day?”
She hesitated.
Fuck, that hesitation.
Then, she said weakly, “No. I was pissed. It was anger, not fear.”
Anger, he could work with; fear, he wouldn’t be able to come back from that. And he sure as shit never wanted her to fear him. But she’d hesitated.
“It wasn’t one-sided,” she said.
He was much bigger, much stronger than her. And she’d done nothing to deserve it.
Clearing his throat, wanting her to look at him—knowing she wouldn’t—he said, “I can’t take back what I did or what I said, Cassidy. Fucking miserable words from a goddamn drunk and a loser. I’ve got no excuses. It wasn’t right to hurt you that way. But I didn’t mean it. If nothing else, I can tell you I donotfucking think that. Shrinks would call it projection or some shit; nothing to do with you.”
Didn’t look like she believed him.
“I won’t be able to apologize enough for putting that shit out there, for hurting you like that; for all of it.”
Glancing askance at him, she said, “I didn’t come here because I wanted an apology. I know you don’t remember what you said, and I can’t hold you accountable for it. I just… You needed to know. You deserved to know. Now you know.”
“Day,” he dropped his voice into a low cadence. “I’m fucking accountable.”
“Marge thought you should know.”
“This isn’t about Marge.”
Hugging herself, reminding him of someone trying to hold the pieces of herself together, she said, “Well, now you have it. Does it make you feel better or worse?”
Good question. He imagined something worse. He’d imagined rape or attempted rape. He had been terrified of it; his mind had taunted him. But, “I sure as shit don’t feel better. But knowing—fuck, Day—not knowing sucked. Knowing, I can try to fix it.”
Her eyes flicked up to him as though to say,Are you kidding right now?
“Gotta let me try, sweetheart.”
“I don’t, actually,” she responded. She stood up. “Thank you for the coffee.”
Like she was going to walk off this boat and be finished with him. He was a selfish bastard, but he couldn’t let it end here. Wouldn’t. “If you won’t let me try to fix it, then why not let me twist in the wind, not say anything?”
Those beautiful eyes of hers blinked at him, a look of serenity coming across her face. “So we can be done with whatever this was, and we can both move on from it.”
Panic seized him, but he forced himself to stay calm. “What do you mean?”
Moving to the side of the boat, she answered, “You needed the blanks filled in. I needed to be relieved of it. I get to go back to my life, and you go back to whatever it is you do.” She stepped up on the gunwale.
“Whatever it is I do?”
“Your listless life,” she said down to him, making the easy leap to the dock. Turning, looking back at him, she said, “Back to just being my neighbor.”