I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,60

could’ve sworn his wrinkles had doubled since this summer.

My dad wasn’t an old man, but he was close to resembling one.

“Mac?” Ryan’s whisper was a lot louder. He was right outside the door.

“Who are you?” my dad demanded.

Ryan opened the door and looked at him but had no other reaction. He knew what he was walking into.

“Ryan Jensen, sir. You work with my father.” His shoulders were firm, and he didn’t slouch as he spoke. He wasn’t going anywhere.

That was when I knew for sure. He had come for me, no matter what happened after this.

“Oh.” My dad lost all of his fight. “That’s right. Your father talked to me, mentioned you and my daughter were friends.” He looked between the two of us, lingering on my tank top and shorts before going to the lounge pants Ryan wore. He had pulled on a T-shirt.

My dad rubbed at one of his eyebrows. “You’re sleeping here, Ryan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He’s sleeping with you, Mackenzie?”

I nodded. “You know he is.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” His tone was quiet. “Your mother’s been in touch with Nan. I’m assuming that’s what you’re talking about? Your mother knows?”

I nodded again. Why did it feel like I couldn’t swallow anymore?

Silence filled the room, and Ryan moved closer to me. “Are you okay?”

My dad started laughing and turned toward one of his boxes.

I shook my head, my gaze holding Ryan’s, but I said, “My dad is moving closer to Robbie.”

Ryan didn’t respond. He wasn’t there for the details. He was still waiting for my cue, if I needed him to stay or if he could go.

I hadn’t made up my mind, so I didn’t answer.

My dad resumed packing, his shoulders tight, and he flung a hand up, knocking his tie over his shoulder.

He was still dressed for the office. I hadn’t registered that before. It seemed pertinent for some reason.

“It’s almost three in the morning,” I murmured, half-asking myself. “Why haven’t you changed clothes?”

Had he gone somewhere after work? Was he going in to work early?

Willow snorted behind me. I doubt he’s even going to work, sis. You aren’t paying attention. Smell, Mac.

Smell what?

Him. You aren’t wearing vanilla perfume, and I don’t think your honey is either.

I felt choked, like someone had reached around and tightened their hold on my throat. She was right.

There was a distinct smell, but it wasn’t vanilla. It was lavender. He smelled like flowers.

I turned to Ryan.

My mom wore a citrus perfume. She hated lavender.

“Mom said you wanted to meet up in the city. Was she wearing perfume when you saw her?” Somehow, I doubted that was hers. My mind was putting two and two together faster than my emotions could, and I felt myself weaving on my feet.

Ryan moved closer, resting his hand behind my hip. His touch steadied me enough to keep me from falling.

“You’re seeing someone else.”

My dad whirled back to us. The blood drained from his face, and then his eyes found Ryan’s hand.

“Get your hand off her.”

I ignored him and surged forward. “Who is it? Who are you leaving us for?”

“Honey.” He flinched as if I’d slapped him across the face.

“Does Mom know?”

His shoulders slouched, and his head hung down. He balled up the shirt in his hand, holding it against his chest. “She knows.”

He couldn’t look at me.

He wasn’t just leaving us; he was going to someone else.

A new family.

Willow and I thought the same thing at the same time.

My stomach twisted, and I could feel the bile rising

“Who?”

“You won’t know her, honey.”

He was speaking in whispers. I wasn’t. My voice grew firmer with each question I asked.

“Who?” I might not know her, but maybe Ryan did. “Is it someone you work with?”

It had to be.

He’d only worked since Willow. And he went to see Robbie, but that was with my mom. Right? They went together?

“Mackenzie, we can talk about this late—”

“WHO?”

I didn’t need Ryan to help hold me up. Rage was doing fine all on its own.

“Mackenzie, honey . . .”

My nostrils flared. “I said who. I want to know who!”

His mouth clamped shut. His hands went to his hips, the shirt too, and he regarded me. It was as if the air had turned solid between us, and my question was like trying to cut through it with my bare hands.

So be it. I wasn’t afraid of blood. Anymore.

I took a step closer. “Who, Dad?”

“This isn’t the time to talk about this.”

“You tell me or I will make your goddamn life hell.”

Our eyes locked, and he seemed