Yield (Cal and Macy's Story 3)

I take a sip of the water and let my eyes slide toward the window to watch the hustle and bustle outside. Everyone walking with purpose. All having a place to go, things to do, goals to meet. I watch all of those people walking by and have to wonder... what exactly is my purpose as it relates to Macy? Am I her champion? Or am I really, truly just a fuck buddy to her?

What do I want to be?

"I'm sorry," Matt says, breaking in to my reverie.

I swivel my gaze over to his and tilt my head in curiosity. "Sorry?"

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," he says simply. "I can tell your feelings for her are deep."

My hand makes a dismissive motion in the air, because I'm not the one who deserves sympathy. "I'm fine. I am worried about her though."

"And Mac and I are worried about you," he says.

"You're worried about me?" I ask skeptically.

"Well, it's really Mac who's worried," he says with a sarcastic grin, but I know Matt well. I know what he's saying. He truly does have some type of care for me still.

It's way more than I deserve, so I blow him off. "Don't waste it on me."

"Don't tell me how to feel," Matt snaps. "We are both concerned about you, so just understand... we know you're taking Macy's back, but we got your back, okay? Someone needs to be in your corner, and while I don't know Macy's secrets, I've come to know a lot about her over the past few years. She needs a lot of maintenance. She's going to take work."

"You make her sound like a broken-down old car," I mutter.

"In a way, she is," Matt says with a nod. "She needs care, a soft touch... patience. It's work to reach someone like her. It's not going to be easy with all this shit going on so if you need anything, you just need to ask Mac or me."

I stare at Matt for a good long while, my eyes searching deep to try to find what in the hell I might be missing. Is this a setup? Is Matt fucking around with me?

"You're so fucking transparent," Matt mutters as he stands from the table and grabs his untouched bottle of Diet Coke. "I can see the skepticism on your face."

"You're just freaking me out," I tell him with a grimacing smile as I stand up. "We're not friends, and based on our history together, you shouldn't ever want to expend energy on helping me. Sorry if I'm suspicious of ulterior motives."

Matt turns away from me. I follow him out of the deli and onto the sunny-bright sidewalk. He comes to an abrupt halt, and I almost run into him. He turns to me and with a voice that is nothing short of complete seriousness, he says, "You're a little off base. I am your friend, Cal. If you'll have me."

My throat tightens, my chest cramps, and I have to restrain myself from breaking out into a dancing jig of gratitude. Instead, I just give a nod of acceptance and say, "Thanks."

"Sure," he says as he turns to head back toward Macy's apartment. "Besides, once I tell Mac we're buds again, she is going to be so grateful in the bedroom that I will be one very happy man for some time to come."

When we get back to Macy's apartment, we find both of the women in the kitchen. Macy's sitting at the kitchen table, her feet pulled up underneath her and her elbows on the table. Mac leans her back against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed over her chest while she talks in a low voice to her best friend.

As soon as Matt and I walk in, both women turn their heads toward us, Mac with a welcoming smile, Macy with a tired one.

Not one to waste time, Mac says, "I've been talking to Macy about her obligation to talk to the federal prosecutor. While there is absolutely no law requiring her to do so at this moment, I've advised her that it's best to cooperate."

"Agreed," Matt and I both say at the same time, and we shoot a grin at each other. We always used to say the same thing at the same time back when we were in college together.

"You apparently told Macy that I'd go with her to the meeting," Mac says as she eyes me with disapproval. "But I can't be the one to represent her on this. I've told her that. She needs someone with more experience, and I have no criminal experience at all. She needs one of you to go with her."

I hold my tongue, because I want to jump up and down, throw my hand in the air, and yell, "Pick me, pick me."

But I don't, because this is Macy's choice.

She doesn't look put out by this at all, and doesn't make me suffer long with waiting. "Will you go with me, Cal?"

"Sure I will," I tell her with a reassuring smile, but I don't make a move toward her. I don't want her to get freaked out by how much it means to me that she wants me by her side. It's always baby steps with sweet Macy, and I can shorten my stride for right now.

But my victory is short-lived as she narrows her eyes at me, and in a clear, strong voice says, "I'm never discussing Brussels with you."

I swallow hard. "Okay."

"And I'm not discussing it with them," she adds on.

"Macy," Mac chides. "You can't just disavow any knowledge of the trip. You were there."

"Then the only thing I'll say is that it was a family vacation," she says stubbornly, eyes sliding from Mac to me in defiance.

I walk across the kitchen toward Macy. As I get closer to her, her head tilts back as she watches me tower over her. Palm to cheek, a quick graze of my thumb over her skin, and I say, "I won't make you talk about anything you don't want to talk about, okay?"

"Okay," she says, and finally... fucking finally, I see a measure of peace in her look. She even lets out a sigh of relief as she clasps her hand around my wrist, giving it a small squeeze.

We stare at each other... a silent understanding... a tentative new bond formed. I'm her lover and protector now, and let's not forget... I'm her friend. Her second favorite person in the world, and I will try my damnedest to not fuck a single one of those things up.

Warm appreciation. That's what I get with her look.

Macy's eyes have sizzled with lust, vibrated with need, gone dark with desire.

But right now... the fact that she appreciates me being there for her?

It's the best look I'll ever get from this woman.

The spell is broken when Mac says, "Are you going to call your mom back?"

My hand drops and I look quickly to Mac, and then back to Macy in question. "Your mom called?"

Shooting up out of the chair, she pushes past me... not in a dismissive way, but in a way that conveys pent-up nervousness. Macy walks over to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water. With her back to us, she addresses Mac's question. "I can't. I know what she wants from me, and I just can't. So no... I don't want to talk to her."

"Understood," Mac affirms, every nuance in that three-syllable word screaming loud and clear that we apparently need to protect Macy from her mother as well.

I'm so fucking confused as to what's going on.

I've got a girlfriend, who thrives on sex but is relationship averse, who has no rapport or bond with her parents, and it's clear something bad has happened between her and them. There's a mysterious trip to Brussels that is clearly traumatic to Macy, and the feds are overly interested in it as they pursue white-collar indictments against her father. It seems Mac and Macy talk in code half the time, and most of the information I've gotten so far has been from my prior ex-best friend and his reading of some news channels on the internet.

I basically don't know a fucking thing.

Rolling my shoulders, I force myself to relax. Macy either will or won't share with me, but regardless, I'll do whatever I can to support her. Until she figures out just how far she wants to let me in the circle of trust, I'm going to have to give her the room to figure out exactly what this relationship means to her.

Chapter 3

From the Diary of Macy Carrington:

Dear Diary,

I'm not even sure where to begin.

It's all crashing down, and I don't know how to stop it.

Maybe I'm depending on Cal to stop it, but is it fair of me to expect him to do that when he doesn't even know what it is?

He stayed all night again at my place. Second night in a row.

In some ways, it was no different from the first night. We had sex. Incredible, mind blowing, and pulse-pounding sex. It was, as always, more than I could ever hope for with a man. It left me satisfied, it left me mellow, and it was even easier to snuggle into his arms and let him hold me. It didn't feel as odd, and I'll even admit--I might have even craved the security of it.

In some ways, it was a bit different, because now there's a dark cloud hanging over both of us. While I'm sure Cal always suspected there was something in my past that accounted for my abnormal appetites and proclivities, as well as my aversion to intimacy, now he knows without a doubt that there is something there.