Page 107 of Calling the Shots

I should have trusted my gut and not fallen for someone as great as Mack.

I knew I could get hurt and still my dumbass went for it.

Stupid, stupid Gracelyn.

Always wanting what she can’t have. Starting way back in grade school and I’ve never learned my damn lesson.

I’m average, regular. A seven on a good day, as Jamie oh-so-helpfully pointed out at the Homecoming dance.

Why do I always try to score the tens of the world?

Why would Mack squander his blessings on someone like me, as his mother so delicately put it?

The short answer: he shouldn’t.

I’m a big mistake, whether he wants to admit it or not.

I can’t let Mack throw away his shot at happiness, ruin his relationship with his family over me. I’m not worth it.

Pulling into my lot, I park Mack’s truck and cut the engine. I close my eyes and breathe in Mack’s lingering scent, the leather soft beneath me. Much as I love the man, I know I have to let him go.

A lone tear splashes onto my cheek, squeezing through my closed lids. How I have any tears left, I don’t know. My chest aches and I’m sad. So, so overwhelmingly sad.

Letting Mack go is the right thing to do.

Hauling my weary body from the truck, I wheel my suitcase up the walkway and unlock the door. I step inside my cozy little townhouse and make a beeline for the sofa, not bothering to turn on a light. Pulling the fuzzy blanket down from the back of the couch, I wrap the material tight around me. A warm, safe cocoon.

More tears leak from my eyes and I cry myself to sleep, feeling oh so sorry for myself.

* * *

The next thing I know, it’s dark outside and a loud pounding is coming from outside. I blink, heart racing as I regain consciousness.

“Gracelyn, it’s me. Open up.” Mack’s deep voice carries through the thin wood of the front door. “I know you’re home. Please. We need to talk.”

Unwinding myself from my blanket cocoon, I shuffle to the door and crack it open. And there’s Mack, still in his dress shirt and pants. He must have lost the blazer somewhere along the way. His hair’s disheveled and the tiny crinkles around his eyes are more pronounced, even in the dark.

“Hey.” I open the door wider, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“Hey.” A quick flash of relief dances across his face. He shoves one hand in his pocket. “May I come in?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

I owe the man that much. Breaking up with the love of my life via a handwritten note left on the kitchen table isn’t very cool.

Mack slides past me into the townhouse and I catch a hint of his woodsy scent, the cologne I love so much. The smell almost undoes me, my resolve already weakening. Being near him like this is dangerous.

Also, my new reality.

Because how am I going to avoid him in a town as small as Thunder Creek? Especially when he lives next door to my mother and my job.

Shit.

Not only is this the most painful thing I’ve ever done, it’s also going to be damn near impossible.

Shutting the door, I shore up my resolve before turning around to face him.

“Gracelyn—” he says at the exact moment I say, “We need to break up.”

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