Page 75 of Dreaming of Dawson

“I have… kinda. But surely you didn’t just leave without telling anyone.”

“No. I explained it to my parents. I said I wanted to come and stay with Aunt Bernie. They’d brought me here quite a few times when I was little, and I thought a change of scene would do me good.”

“Did they understand?”

“Not straight away. My Dad wanted me to stay and fight William – and James, I guess – not so much for the money, but to prove I hadn’t done anything wrong. The problem was, it was all rumor. There was nothing tangible. Nothing I could prove. And besides, I didn’t have any fight left in me. I was worn down, and in the end, they both agreed it would be better for me to get away. So, I packed a bag and while Dad drove me to the bus station, I called Aunt Bernie. The poor thing only had a couple of hours’ notice of my arrival, but she was fine with it. Of course, at that stage, we all thought I’d only be staying here for a few weeks, just to give myself time to get my head around everything that had happened. But then I got into fixing her website, and I realized I liked it here… a lot more than I liked the idea of going back to Boston.”

“So you stayed?”

“Yes.”

“What do your parents think?” I ask. “Do they regret letting you come, now you’ve chosen not to go home?”

“I don’t think so. To be honest, it’s not something we’ve really talked about, although I think they regret that I ever got involved with James.”

I know she harbors those same regrets, without even having to ask, but there’s something else that intrigues me, given what happened to me, and the way I handled it. Macy’s always struck me as such a cheerful person, right from the moment I first met her… and yet she’s been treated so badly, I’m struggling to put those two things together.

“Didn’t it ever get you down?” I ask her. “Didn’t it get to you that your ex and his uncle had taken so much from you?”

“It did… for a while.”

“So you are human, then? You didn’t just bounce back from it?”

“Of course I’m human. And I wouldn’t say I bounced back at all. Would you?”

“Why not? You seem quite happy.” Compared to me, she seems fucking delirious.

“I am happy,” she says. “But, if I’d bounced back from it, don’t you think I’d be able to put aside my prejudice against getting involved with people who employ me?”

She has a point, I guess. “So, you’re not over him?”

“Oh, God, yes,” she says, smiling. “Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like flicking a switch. I’d put a lot into the relationship, you know? James was struggling, trying to find his way with his uncle, and growing apart from him… or that was how it seemed to me. I wanted to help, and…”

“Some people don’t want to be helped, Macy,” I say, interrupting her before she gets too carried away with how great things could have been between them.

“I know.”

“I wasn’t including myself in that,” I add quickly, just in case she was wondering. “I think I wanted your help before I even knew you, and I know I needed it.”

She smiles, the most uplifting of smiles, and I have to smile back, because it seems she has that effect on me now.

“I worked out for myself before I left Boston that James didn’t need me, and then once I’d been here for a while, I realized there were more important things in life… and that he wasn’t one of them. I decided that, if I wasn’t important enough for him to commit to, he wasn’t important enough for me to waste my time over.”

I nod my head, my smile widening. “I like that philosophy.”

“You can borrow it, if you like,” she says, leaning in to me, which feels good.

“I don’t need it,” I say, and as her eyes lock with mine, I dip my head and kiss her. It’s a risky move, even though I’ve kissed her once already. That was about me… about wanting to prove I could be enough for her. This is about her. It’s about letting her know I’ve heard her story. I’ve heard every word she’s said and I still wanna make something of this… even if she’s not sure about me yet. And that means I need to try harder. I flick my tongue against her closed lips, and she sucks in a stuttered breath, giving me a chance… a chance to explore. I take it, and she responds, her tongue belying her claim to reticence and flickering against mine.

I wasn’t wrong. She wants this. She wants me… and that means hell is gonna have to freeze over before I give up on her.

Or us.

I pull back before she can, because there are still things to be said, and I don’t want her to be the one to end this.

“What do you want, Macy?” I ask, studying her slightly swollen lips.

“How do you mean?”

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