I fought the paralysis and whispered, “Mace –” yet again.
“I’l cal Turner and tel him he’s up.”
My hand not holding the coffee cup came down and gripped the counter.
“Eric?” I asked.
Mace stood and looked at me. “You know another Turner?”
I shook my head even though I probably did. I knew a lot of people.
Mace put his tongue to his teeth and gave a sharp whistle.
Juno shot up, trotted to him and Mace bent over and gave her a ful doggie rubdown.
A final, farewell ful doggie rubdown.
This isn’t right, my brain sounded panicked and confused.
“Mace –” I started again.
Mace stopped rubbing Juno down and headed toward his bag.
“Stay wel , Stel a,” he said, not looking at me, bending to his bag and lifting up, throwing the strap over his shoulder and turning to the door.
Oh my God, this isn’t right! My brain screamed.
I had to do something. Anything. And I had to do it quick.
“I broke my arm when I was twelve. Fel off my bike,” I blurted.
Mace stopped on his way to the door. His side to me, he only turned his head when he looked at me.
I swal owed. “When I got home, my Mom was gone, I don’t know where. My Dad was the only one there.” Mace didn’t move and didn’t speak.
My breath wasn’t taking a hike, it was coming fast and scared. Al thoughts of wanting Mace out of my life were gone.
Poof.
Vanished.
“Dad didn’t –” I began but Mace interrupted me by shaking his head.
“Too late,” he told me and my stomach clenched.
“Let me finish,” I whispered, Mace shook his head but I kept talking. “My arm was hanging funny, it hurt so much I thought I’d pass out from the pain. You’d think that’s al I thought I’d pass out from the pain. You’d think that’s al I would remember –”
“Too late,” Mace said again.
“But it wasn’t what I remembered.” I pressed on. “He was so pissed. Dad was. He was watching some golf tournament on TV and he was pissed at me because he had to take me to the hospital instead of –” Mace interrupted me again. His body turned toward me and his voice was back to low and vibrating in that scary way. “Too f**kin’ late.”
“Don’t go,” I whispered, changing tactics, my head coming together, my thoughts, for the first time in days, final y clear and focused.
I knew what I was doing, letting him have sex with me, sleep with me, move in with me. I knew I was doing it because I wanted it, I wanted him. Actions speak louder than words but I’d so wrapped myself in that cotton wool Floyd told me about, I didn’t hear the muffled communication.
I held my breath.
Mace stared at me.