Page 29 of Anchor Point

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I counted backward from ten. This son of a biscuit-eater better not be threatening me because my daughter got railroaded at school. I was certain there was more to the story, just like I was certain there was more to this so-called presentation and his utter lack of communication about it.

Even though it went against everything in me to capitulate, instead of biting his head off, I played nice and made my voice sticky sweet when I said, “It’s a great place to work, Mayor. It’s obvious that the leaders of the community work very hard to make it successful.”

“Yes, well. I’m just reminding you that we hold everyone to the utmost highest level of moral representation.”

This self-righteous asshole. I wanted to ask, as defined by whom, but I figured that’d be pushing it. Instead, I steeled my voice. “Thank you for letting me know about the conference. Please do send over the information, and I’ll make it happen.”

I slammed the phone receiver down. It didn’t satisfy the angry riot of emotion swirling through my system, and it didn’t help the overwhelm that was edging over into anxiety.

But it felt good.

If only for a second. Because I already had too much on my plate and now, apparently, had to speak at a conference tomorrow.

I stalked out of my office and headed toward Cathy’s desk. We were reviewing the presentation details, me scanning the email from over her shoulder, when I felt Mac come up behind me.

Why was this a thing with him? How did he manage to sneak up on me like that? And why did my body respond like it was the most natural thing to lean closer to his warmth?

He brushed up against my elbow, and I got a whiff of his cologne, then heard his deep rumble of “Got a minute?” And everything caved in on me. Feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders, I turned and met his eyes.

His expression shifted from hard to harder. The muscle in his jaw ticked. Apparently, something in my expression gave away the level of stress I was trying to handle. He grabbed my elbow and ushered me to my office, shutting the door behind us.

He led me to one of the guest chairs, then crouched before me.

“Talk, Livvie.”

Maybe it was the old nickname that broke through. Maybe it was just Mac being Mac. Whatever it was, once the truth started, I was helpless to stop the word vomit and was mortified to find my eyes stinging.

“It feels like Mayor Smith is trying to sabotage me. The police chief keeps avoiding my calls, and I know there is something up with the arson investigation. My mom called and had to put my dad in a nursing home today. And Rosie got suspended. And now I have to go out of town, and I don’t have anyone to stay with her, but I also can’t take her with me, because if the mayor finds out, he’ll use it against me. And I have to give a presentation that I’m pretty sure is going to be used as a test for Smith to pass judgment on me, and suddenly, it feels like everything is falling apart and everyone is out to get me.”

Through my diatribe, Mac’s frown intensified. “Tell me about the Rosie part.”

A huge sigh escaped as I deflated. “Apparently, she’s been drawing some erotica, and it got distributed around school.” I couldn’t even believe the words as I said them, but I’d absolutely seen it with my own eyes.

The line of his jaw shifted as if he might be gritting his teeth. He looked positively furious. I just didn’t know who or what he was furious about.

“She’s suspended tomorrow and Friday. She can stay home during the day alone, but I’m not comfortable going out of town and leaving her. And she can’t come with me, because this conference is closed, with no guests allowed because, apparently, there is some major political bigwig coming. I would’ve called my parents to come stay with her, but my mom just put my dad in a nursing home, and she’s got enough on her plate. Plus, I don’t have time to get Rosie there and make it back to the conference.”

That was enough to bring on the threat of tears again, but I clamped down my emotions. Crying wouldn’t solve anything, and right now, I needed focus and direction. I blinked rapidly, concentrating on the bare wall behind Mac until the feeling abated.

“What about her dad?” he asked softly, snatching my attention even as his words froze my insides, as the day took another unexpected turn. Now was not the time for this discussion, not that there ever was a good time to let a man know he had a fourteen-year-old handful of a daughter.

We’d only known each other that one week, but I’d been reminded of him daily over the years. Had regretted my stupid decisions and mourned the loss of that chemistry and connection we’d had. In the early weeks and months, I’d written him love letters, wishing I could find him so that he might know the wonderful child he’d helped create. Even as I’d married another man, Mac had still held part of my heart.

I should try to avoid the question, should find a better way to out this truth. But looking into the face of the man who’d meant so much to me, words failed me. I couldn’t lie to him. As I stared into his deep eyes, the world tumbled and fell away. Instead of Chief and Captain, we’d tunneled into a space where we were Livvie and Mac, and the outside world didn’t exist.

“Mac…” I willed him to understand the words I knew I needed to say but somehow couldn’t force out.

His head dropped on a gust of breath as if I’d hit him across the chest. The full impact of the unspoken truth lay between us.

He knelt, bowed before me, his big shoulders nearly trembling. He knew about Rosie. Or at least he’d suspected. Reaching for him, covering his hand that gripped my knee, allowing myself to touch this man as if no years had separated us, felt as natural and right and necessary as my next breath.

Shame. Hot, blinding shame coursed through me, and I pulled my hand away. I had no right to touch him. No right to comfort, not when I was the cause of this pain.

I was the worst person in the world for not finding him, for denying him the child he deserved to know. I hated myself for all that he’d lost.

I waited silently, twisting the turquoise ring that matched my daughter’s, needing the connection to her, because everything from this moment forward would change.

“She’s got my eyes.” He spoke to the floor, his voice guttural, raspier than I’d ever heard it, as if he’d had to push the words out.

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