Page 46 of SNOB

Her words ring through my head as her brows lower.

I told you to stay away from The Crown. Especially Mac.

Right now, The Crown is the only thing that has my back. Greta doesn’t.

“They’re all gonna talk,” I say as Mac peels out of the parking lot. “Me with you? Isn’t this more suspicious?”

“They won’t talk,” he replies, merging onto the street.

Cars passing by don't startle me like last time. It makes me wonder if his tactics work, no matter how maniacal. Am I actually feeling comfort from Mac?

I'm losing my mind in Paradise Hill.

“How are you so sure?” I ask, settling into my seat.

“We’re changing the narrative.” His eyes hide behind those douchey shades, and I can’t tell if he’s even looking at me. It’s a different vibe from when we were against the art building wall.

I hate that I notice.

“Sounds like something Daddy McKinsley would say.”

“Daddy’s handling it.”

Mac turns up the music, grunge rock filling the air. He doesn’t offer the wheel this time. He doesn’t pull out clamps, cuffs, or other equipment I’ve only heard about in Fifty Shades.

He ignores me.

Except for music, the ride back to The Valley is quiet until we pull up to my home. Looking out the window, Uncle Jake stands there, beer in hand.

I need to be quick before he comes outside.

When my hand touches the door handle, Mac finally lowers the music. “This is the last time I’m driving here,” he says. “I’m getting you a room at the Grand Emerald. It’s close to campus. You won’t be in Hannah’s way and I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.”

“What about Uncle Jake?” I ask, climbing out of the passenger’s seat. My family is way more important than staying at a luxurious hotel.

“I took care of that.” He reaches over, closing the door. “See you tomorrow.” Then he speeds off, leaving me blinking at the six exhausts at the back of his car.

Do I have whiplash? One minute he fondles me at any chance, the next, nothing.

Coldness washes over me as his car disappears and I turn to our home.

The Grand Emerald. Without Jake?

My head spins as I step towards our trailer. Opening the creaky door to our home, my muscles tense thinking about how I'll break the news.

“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on, Emmy?” Uncle Jake’s question hits me as soon as I step inside, the musty smell a contrast to Mac’s car. “This all showed up about an hour ago.” Looking around the space, brown paper bags fill the room. Cereal. Milk. Pasta. Rice. Eggs. There’s like a month’s worth of groceries in here. Cases of beer stack on each other by the sofa. Enough to fill a bar. “Is this him?”

I took care of that.

It’s hard to hide the disbelief in my voice as I look around the room. “I-I guess.”

“So, what did you do for it?” Uncle Jake approaches me, booze coming off his breath. He crosses his arms in that tattered denim jacket. “Emmy, you can’t just?—”

“We’re dating.” Uncle Jake blinks. I do too. Turning around to help pick up the groceries off the ground hides my cringe. It’s the first thing I could think of to get Uncle Jake off my back.

“Dating?” He sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Please don’t be the overprotective Uncle,” I groan, putting the groceries into the cupboard. They're all Uncle Jake’s favourite snacks. Barbecue chips. Crunchy peanut butter. Almond trail mix. How did he know?

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