Page 59 of Our Secrets and Scars

“You can call me Uncle Mack,” he says, coming up the stairs with his hand extended toward me. I take it with a smile, studying him.

It’s obvious now that he’s told me that they’re related. So much so that I can’t believe I didn’t notice the very moment I saw him. Their features aren’t similar enough to mistake them as being father and son, but there’s certainly enough likeness that it’s obvious they share the same blood.

Their eyes, for instance, are the same stormy shade of gray, but Uncle Mack’s has a depth to them that give away his wisdom.

“I’m—”

“I know who you are,” he cuts me off. “You’re the lass who’s had my nephew’s heart all twisted up in knots for who knows how long. He’s told me lots about you.”

“Good things I hope?” I ask with a nervous laugh.

“Sweetheart, that boy don’t have a bad word to say about no one. Even them who deserve it.” A thick, angry sort of fog overcomes him at that, but he blows it away with a quick shake of his head. “Anyway, you wanting to get in there?” He motions toward the closed door.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I can just wait out here.”

Mack tuts and leans around me, sliding his key into the lock. “No need for silliness like that, peach. I’ll let you in, ain’t no hassle.”

“He might not like it.”

“Nonsense.” He waves me off and opens the door, gesturing for me to step inside. I do. “Ain’t no man on this earth who wouldn’t wanna come home to his girl after work. I’m here to pick something up anyway.”

As soon as we’re both inside, I take an awkward position by the wall in the living room and fiddle with the hem of my clothes. Mack casts me a confused look, then laughs and shakes his head, telling me to, “Just take a seat on the damn couch. It ain’t there to be stared at.”

I smile shyly and shuffle over, perching uncomfortably on the very edge of the sofa cushion. Mack rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. He bustles around the apartment, looking for something for a long while, opening closets and cupboards until he finally seems to find whatever it is that he’s looking for.

“Well, all right,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ll be off now. You take care of yourself, will you?”

I nod, and he makes his way to the door but pauses just before he reaches it.

“Hey, you wouldn’t mind if I talked to you about something?” he asks, turning back around to look at me.

I shake my head and smile tentatively, nerves stirring in my stomach at the expression on his face.

“Look, I know it’s none of my business what you get up to with my boy, but please,” he pauses and closes his eyes, “don’t do nothing to hurt him, okay? I knew a lass like you once, pretty as a peach, soft-spoken, a little bit shy. It’s easy as anything to fall in love with a girl like that, I should know.”

My lips part in surprise. I don’t know what I’d been expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.

“With respect, sir—”

“Uncle Mack,” he interjects.

“With respect, Uncle Mack, I think Holden is far more capable of breaking my heart than I am of breaking his.”

He gives me a soft smile, laced with sadness and a tinge of regret. “Not my boy. He’s the best there is. Heart of gold, he has. Fragile one too. Don’t want it getting hurt any more than it has done, you understand? Been through too much as it is.”

“I understand,” I say gently. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not in the habit of breaking hearts.”

His shoulders relax like my words have eased a massive weight, and then his lips stretch into a wide smile. “That’s real good to hear, peach. Real good to hear.”

“Can I ask?” I say with slight trepidation. “What happened to the girl? The one who broke your heart, I mean.”

His smile falters, and a cloudy, far-off look settles over his face. He’s remembering her. I wonder briefly if I should move to hug him, but he doesn’t seem the sort of man who would appreciate it. So, I just watch him from my seat on the couch, waiting for him to speak.

“Met someone else,” he says finally, with a slight shrug of his shoulders as if he’s trying to play it off as being less of a big deal than it is. “She loved me, she said. But I wasn’t the type you take home to your mama, so she married a stuffy banker guy instead with a briefcase and a stick up his ass.”

“That’s shitty,” I tell him, understanding a little more why he’s so protective of his nephew. “But if it counts, Uncle Mack, I’d be proud to take Holden home to my mama.”

Misty silver eyes raise to mine and soften at my words.

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