be more focused on plotting his dad’s murder. But Mac feeling better was at the forefront of my mind. I just wanted my boyfriend to be okay.
“Want to tell me what happened to your car?” I asked as we lay in the dark, suddenly remembering the one-sided conversation with his mom from earlier.
“I was driving here. I got pulled over. Car had been reported stolen,” he explained like he was giving me the CliffsNotes version, but I wanted more information.
“Why’d you get pulled over?”
“I was speeding.”
“How fast were you going?” I asked, wondering if he had been driving as desperately as I knew he’d felt.
The mattress shifted as he moved his pillow around. “Eighty. It was too fast. I knew better. My car’s a cop magnet.”
“So, what happened then?”
He inhaled quickly before blowing out a long breath. “The cop asked if I knew why he pulled me over. I said yes. He asked for my license and registration. When he came back, he asked me to step out of the car.”
“Were you scared?” I imagined how terrified I’d be if a cop asked me to get out of my car.
“No,” he said matter-of-factly. “He told me that the car had been reported stolen by a Richard Davies, and then he asked me if I knew him.” Mac let out a sick-sounding laugh. “I told him that was my dad and that we had an argument and I took off.”
“I can’t believe he reported your car stolen,” I said, still surprised by each new piece of information I’d learned.
“I can. Anyway, the cop actually asked me if he did this to my face.”
“Oh, wow. What’d you say?”
“I said no.”
“Do you think he believed you?”
“I’m not sure. But he told me that he couldn’t let me go with the car because whenever he stopped someone, he called it in, and now, it was on record in the system and blah, blah, blah.” He stopped clarifying, but I knew what he was saying. The cop would have gotten into trouble if he’d let Mac leave with a stolen car. “He said that if this were any other situation, I’d be arrested and charged with vehicle theft. But he had some discretion in the matter, and technically, he was only required to bring in the car. Not me.”
“So, he let you go.” I reached out and searched for his hand before finally finding it. It was at an awkward angle, but I took it in mine anyway and held on tight.
“Yeah. We actually moved off of the freeway and into a restaurant parking lot. He let me get all of my things out of the car before he called a tow truck. And then he made sure I got a ride to your house before he took off.”
His thumb started drawing lazy circles on top of my hand. I loved whenever he did that.
“Where was this? How far away were you?”
“About an hour out. The ride-share guy wasn’t too happy, but I gave him a big cash tip.”
“Where’s your car now?”
“Some impound lot. I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“And you’re just going to leave it there?”
“It’s not mine anyway. And I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from him anymore.”
We stayed quiet after that, listening to nothing but the sound of our breathing.
“I’m sorry all this happened,” I said, not knowing what else to say, but wanting to say something. I felt so out of my element when it came to this kind of parental drama and horror. I couldn’t relate on any level.
He reached out for me and pulled me onto his chest, his fingers running through my hair. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I felt the tears rush to my eyes with his words. Mac hadn’t had to come here, to my parents’ house. He could have gone to the baseball house, to Coach Carter’s, or to one of his teammate’s instead. But he’d chosen me. I knew how big of a deal that was for him … for us.
When his world had started crashing around him, he had driven straight to my arms. Literally. As that realization and the weight of the day finally hit me, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I’d been holding it all in, and now, in the dark, I didn’t have to anymore.
“I love you, Mac.”
The arm that held me gripped me tighter in response. “I love you too, babe. Never leave me.”
“Never,” I said in my