Page 62 of The Player's Club
“I told her that I loved her, but it was a lie.” Mac groaned. “Is that terrible? Do you think I did the right thing?”
I could tell he was deeply conflicted. It took all my self-control not to burst into tears. Because Mac had told another woman he’d loved her—he’d never said those words to me.
Do you want him to say those words to you? I didn’t know the answer. More likely, I didn’t want to admit the true answer to myself.
“Mac,” I said slowly, “how old were you when you and Caroline first . . .”
“What? Had sex?” Mac let out a gruff laugh. “I was old enough.”
“You were eighteen?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Almost. I was seventeen. Well, no, it started when I was sixteen, almost seventeen. But what difference is there, really?”
I gaped at him. “Are you serious right now?”
Now, he looked annoyed. “I didn’t come here to be judged.”
“I’m not judging you! I’m horrified for you. Mac, you were a kid. You weren’t old enough to consent to sex!”
“I was old enough. I knew what I was doing. If I hadn’t wanted to sleep with Caroline, I wouldn’t have.Simple as that. What, do you think she took me to her lair and raped me?” He scoffed.
His voice rose with every word. I could tell by the tension in his body that he was angry with me. He got up and started pacing.
“Mac, it’s not your fault,” I said, trying to sound soothing. Calm. Controlled. “Don’t blame yourself—”
“I’m not because there’s no blame here. We had an affair. Caroline knew what I needed to experience. She gave me a purpose in life that no one else ever had. She showed me I didn’t have to live inside the box my parents and everyone else wanted me to live in.”
“Maybe that’s true, but—”
“It is true!” He was yelling now. “What the fuck, Elodie? Are you seriously trying to tell me what I experienced didn’t happen?”
Guilt assailed me. Was I wrong? But Mac had been sixteen. Underage. Besides, even if he’d been a legal adult, Caroline had still been in a position of power. She’d used that to groom him.
I could see that, clear as day. Why couldn’t Mac? I guess that’s what happens when someone is brainwashed.
But Mac was so distraught and angry that I knew I was getting nowhere. I went to him and put my arms around him. He was as stiff as a board, like he couldn’t even tolerate my touch.
“I’m sorry. Okay? I’m just worried about you. That’s all. I’m just trying to understand,” I whispered.
It felt like an eternity, but Mac finally hugged me back. He put his chin on the crown of my head.
“I don’t need you to judge me,” he kept saying. “Not you.”
“I’m not. I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“My entire life, I was never what anyone wanted me to be. I wasn’t the good preacher’s son. I wasn’t the guy who wanted a vanilla marriage right out of high school. I’m not going to apologize for being different.”
“And you shouldn’t.” I made him look at me. “You’re incredible the way you are. I wouldn’t have signed that contract if I didn’t believe that.”
His gaze roved my face. Then he pulled me into a hug so tight that I could barely breathe.
“Fuck, Elodie. Jesus fucking Christ.” He breathed the words like a prayer into my hair.
We stayed like that for a long while until Mac finally said he needed to go home. He had practice later that day, and he’d barely slept. Although I tried to persuade him to stay, he wouldn’t be deterred.
He kissed me, long and lingeringly, before he left. Only as I watched him drive away did I realize the sun was starting to rise. I yawned, suddenly exhausted, and returned inside to sleep.
But as I climbed into bed, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mac, or Caroline, or how fucked up the entire thing between them was.