A Shattered Moment (Fractured Lives 1)

She laughed. “You’d think you’d be sick of lugging me around.”

“Babe, you gotta know by now this is my thing. You wouldn’t rob me of a little pleasure, would you?”

“Evidently not.”

I set her on her feet when we reached the hard-packed sand. “So, do you feel any older?” I asked, pulling her back against me so she rested against my chest. My arms moved around her stomach, holding her in place. “You’re the big two-oh. Almost a real adult.”

“Thank God. I haven’t felt like a kid in a long time.” Her voice didn’t carry a trace of sadness. Mac’s road to recovery had been a long one. I was glad I was here to walk beside her, and even carry her whenever she let me.

Her relationship with her parents was a lot less rocky now that the case had finally been settled. She and her mom still argued occasionally, but I was smart enough to stay neutral. It was actually her relationship with Patricia that Mac appreciated the most. She was her last real friend from her past since neither Kat nor Zach had come around. In spite of their rejection, Mac refused to give up, reasoning that eventually her friends would be ready to face their demons like she had. I was afraid her friends’ silence would drag Mac back into some pit of despair, but if anything, it made her appreciate her happiness even more. She had finally realized how strong she could be.

“I love you, Mac,” I whispered in her ear, grinning when I felt her shudder in my arms. She was putty in my hands. Always had been.

She turned in my arms. Her eyes, which had become my favorite feature, practically glowed. They were no longer dull and flat like they had been when we met. They were completely alive.

“I love you, too,” she said, tugging her lip into her mouth. That move got me every time. I wasn’t naïve enough to think she didn’t know what she was doing, but I took advantage of her subtle invitation and placed my lips on hers.

Despite Mac’s best efforts to keep going, I reluctantly broke the kiss, not wanting to start something I wasn’t sure I could stop before we had to leave to get to her parents’ house by six. “Come on, babe. We gotta go.” I tried to stand, but Mac pulled at my shirt, tugging my neck closer. “Your dad said he’s making lasagna.” The words had the desired effect. Mac dropped my shirt and reached for her cane before I could even finish talking.

I laughed. “Wow, remind me to never stand in your way when your dad rings the dinner bell.”

“You’ve never had his lasagna,” she threw over her shoulder as she navigated through the sand. “Trust me, they could write sonnets about it.”

Following behind her, I closed the distance within seconds and scooped her up into my arms. “Why didn’t you say so?” I hoisted her over my shoulder fireman-style, making her giggle as she bounced up and down from the uneven ground. Her laugh was contagious, and by the time I reached the car, we were both breathless.

We brushed the sand off each other as best we could. “Hey, perv. I didn’t get any sand on those,” Mac said, swiping my hands away from her chest. “Besides, you insisted we had to go.”

“Damn, that’s right. You sure your dad’s lasagna is all that?”

“Damn straight. Now, come on. I’m hungry.”

Mac’s parents were finishing up dinner preparations by the time we plowed through the door, still laughing at the way she had bounced on my shoulder.

“You should have seen it, Mom. I was flopping around like some rodeo clown on the back of a bull. Hey, that’s what I should start calling you—my bull.” She patted my broad shoulders. We were all laughing at her new nickname for me when the doorbell rang.

Mac’s mom had her hands busy tossing a salad and her dad was pulling the lasagna from the oven. “I got it,” I volunteered as Mac made a move to climb from her barstool.

“Thanks, Bull,” she teased.

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that or not,” I teased, smiling at the light dancing in her eyes that was too damn hard to resist. She squeezed my hand as I headed toward the front room. The doorbell chimed a second time just before I pulled open the heavy oak door revealing an attractive girl who looked vaguely familiar standing on the porch. She jumped slightly in surprise, looking like she was on the verge of bolting by the way she squeezed her bouquet of flowers in a death grip.

“Is Mackenzie here?” she asked, shifting nervously. Her free hand gripped her purse strap as tightly as the flowers.

“She sure is. Come on in.” I moved aside to let her enter, but she remained frozen, looking over my shoulder with obvious uncertainty. Turning around, I saw that Mac had followed me. Her eyes fixated on the girl in front of me like she had seen a ghost. Understanding dawned on me as Mac opened her mouth to speak.

“Hello, Kat.”

READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM

misunderstandings

a novel in Tiffany King’s Woodfalls Girls series

Available now from Berkley Books!

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present day