Page 18 of Sidelining the Safety

Drew told me he got the job, and we’re celebrating tomorrow. I’m in!

Yes! … Can I text you later? You caught me in the locker room.

“Oops.” Mac grinned, imagining all those hard muscles on display. Being gay in a room full of hot bodies had to be tough.

Sure. Talk to you later.

Later couldn’t come soon enough. Mac checked his phone so frequently both his Mom and Katy called him out on it. Since they both already knew about Lee, he confessed. He expected their teasing, but, all in all, thought it was mild, considering no one had caught his eye since he started comparing everyone he met to Drew.

Drew equaled intelligent, independent, and ripped with muscles. Lee was the same, plus—because Mac had Googled the hell out of “how much do professional football players make” so he knew exactly how much a player drafted in the third round made—hint… He made bank. Mac didn't normally care about money. As long as the diner did well, his family was provided for, and he had a little extra stashed away for the day he could finally make the trip to San Francisco for Pride, he figured he was doing fine.

All his life, Mac had lived in Austin, went to school in Austin, and worked in Austin. There’d been day trips and a few weekends away camping with Drew, but for the most part, he lived and breathed the diner. Lee represented an escape, even if it would be vicariously.

Ugh. Mac shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. Shouldn’t dream like that. He… frowned, hearing raised voices coming from near the back entrance.

“Go check on Katy,” Momma said, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes holding a worry he hadn’t seen since his dad had fallen and broken his leg a couple of years ago. They’d had to scramble to hire a replacement for him, but it had all worked out. Bill was a dream of an employee.

Mac pushed through the kitchen doors and walked past Jeff, the head chef, two other cooks, and their affectionately titled “Chief Bottle Washer” Bobby, who stood frozen in front of the industrial dishwasher. “I got it,” he soothed the teen as he brushed by. Bobby relaxed a fraction, enough that he started slowly loading the next set of plates and mugs.

In the narrow hallway leading to the stockroom, breakroom, and office, he heard his sister clearly. “Go home, Troy. In case you forgot, we’re no longer together.”

“I never agreed.”

“Like I need your permission. You’re drunk. Go sleep it off.”

Mac hung just out of sight, listening. So far, Katy was holding her own, and he knew she’d hate it if he barged in when she could handle the situation. He’d met Troy once and hated him instantly. The guy had sleazebag written all over him, and Mac had to wonder about his sister’s sanity for dating him in the first place. Turns out “dating apps suck monkey balls.” Katy’s words, not his, though he agreed. He’d tried a few, and after three failures, deleted them.

There was a bang, and Troy growled, “Don’t you shut the door on me, woman!”

Katy shrieked, and Mac raced forward. Together, they shoved on the door to get it closed.

“Mac! Katy!”

“Momma, call 911,” Mac shouted. Hearing him, Troy let go, and the door crashed shut with a loud bang. Sirens blared moments later. Unsurprisingly, since the station was just at the end of the block.

Mac grabbed Katy and hugged her hard as she gasped for breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Was he the personal problem you said you had under control?”

She nodded, her face pressed to his chest. “He’s fine when he’s sober.”

A fresh round of tension locked Mac’s muscles. “He hit you?”

“No, but I thought…”

“Okay.” He breathed out, relieved. “I’m glad you ended it before anything did happen.”

“Yeah. Well.” Katy pushed away and swiped at her cheeks. “Shit’s still happening.”

Mac frowned at that. Totally explained the sleepless look she had going on.

“Katy? Is there somewhere we can talk privately? I need your statement, and we can discuss your options.”

Mac glanced at Officer Carey Daniels, a former classmate of Katy’s and a frequent flyer of their diner. Coffee with cream, two eggs scrambled, bacon, rye toast. “Use the office,” Mac said, pointing to the room behind the policeman. “That asshole was her ex-boyfriend. Can we even call him that? You dated him for like a month. Let’s just call him ‘the jerk.’” His tease worked to bring a small smile to her face.

He helped dry her cheeks, guided her into the office chair, and then grabbed a couple bottles of water, offering one to Carey. Taking it with thanks, Carey sat and pulled out a notebook and pen before cracking the lid off and taking a long swallow, all the while watching Katy fidget. After ensuring his momma, the cooks, and Bill were alright, and checking on Bobby, who looked a little pale but gave him a thumbs up when he’d asked, Mac stood in the doorway, listening to Katy.

Fuck, he wanted to find Troy and beat the shit out of him, and the urge only grew stronger with each incidence Katy recalled. His fingers itched to call Drew because his best friend could always talk him down when he got upset.

They made plans with Carey to head over to the station the next day to file a restraining order. He thought that with as many local police officers who visited the diner on a daily basis, it should be enough to deter Troy from showing his face again. After the paperwork was filed, Carey said he’d personally deliver the order. Mac smiled behind his hand, noting the fierce scowl on Carey’s face. Katy had an admirer, and she hadn’t even noticed.

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