Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(80)

“Simple as that,” he added.

Simple.

Hatred spun through his being.

Last thing he wanted to do was bring Ian into his mess, this scraggly kid who’d shown up in town about a year before. Even though Ian was a year younger, the two of them had become instant friends.

He guessed the broken-down always gravitated toward the sleaze and shade.

Thing was, Ian had come to him.

Desperate.

Desperate for money. For food. For a goddamn break.

Wanting an in on what was clearly going down in Mack’s backyard.

Ian nodded. “That’s it? I don’t have to do anything else?”

Clarissa laughed. The sound of it curled through him like a disease. “You sure he’s got the balls to do it?” she cooed her insult, pressing her tits against his chest.

He had the distinct urge to toss her from his lap.

He ignored her, instead, ignored the tussle of unease that moved through his stomach and focused on his best friend not getting his ass nailed for grand theft. “That’s it. Drive slow but not too slow. Fucking pay attention and make sure you aren’t drawing attention to yourself. Drop it at the address and get your ass back home.”

Anxious laughter rumbled from Ian. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good.”

Ian looked up at him. “Just . . . don’t tell my brother, man. Jace will have both of our asses if he catches wind of this. He’s been riding me and Joseph about keeping our noses clean.”

“Yeah, well Jace should be the last of your worries.” Mack hesitated. “You sure you’re up for this? You want out, just say it, and you’re out.”

“Aww, so sweet.” Clarissa toyed her finger in the collar of Mack’s tee.

God, he despised her.

Mack knew bringing Clarissa’s father into the gig was a mistake. Knew it the second his daddy showed up with the prick ambling behind him, bringing another into the fold.

Just one big happy fucking family.

But Mack did what he had to do.

What he had to do to survive.

Funny, how he’d fought his father forever and then slid right into the position like he’d always belonged.

Heaviness clanged through his chest. Shame and dishonor. But it’d been stupid to think he’d been purposed for anything else.

Like he was better.

Destined for great things.

What a fuckin’ joke.

“Nah, man. I’m in. Better than selling dope for my ma’s prick boyfriend,” Ian said, driving an agitated hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” Mack started to agree when his breath hitched.

It got locked somewhere between his lungs and his throat and the sun.

A prisoner to the shift in the air.

Nothing but a crack in the atmosphere that let a lightning bolt of energy come speeding in.

His attention jerked up, jumping over the faces packed in the sordid house, coming to the one that was breaking through the crowd.

Izzy.

What the fuck was she doing there?

She didn’t belong.

His heart started to thud, this thunder that pulsed and screamed with its demand.

“What time should I meet you?” Ian’s question was nothing but a blur in his mind when his eyes tangled with that hazel, unforgettable gaze.

Then Mack was fully losing his mind when he saw Sean say something to her, grab her by the hand, and try to get her to follow.

Mack knew firsthand the asshole was a dickbag.

Izzy seemed frozen, though, and her eyes widened with shock and rejection. That was right before her expression shifted to gutting pain when she focused in on the girl on his lap.

Mack’s spirit fisted.

He’d stopped going to Izzy about six months before.

It was the fucking hardest thing he’d ever done, but the sacrifice had been necessary.

Their worlds had grown farther and farther apart. Their differences becoming too apparent.

Guilt had begun to eat at him every time he’d steal through her window like a thief, feeling filthy when he’d gather her up and hold her close, his dick pushing at his jeans and begging for him to take her, even though he promised himself he would never stoop that low.

Every time she whispered encouragement, told him he was going to be something great, filled his ears with all her good and belief, it’d only underscored the fact that she didn’t recognize the shame written on him.

The things he’d done. The things he was bound to do.

She was so much better than him. She was the great one. The one going places.

His Little Bird with the biggest, brightest wings.

Then the day had come when he’d had to accept it fully—that their worlds could no longer mesh.

It’d been close to dawn when he’d slipped out of her bed, his heart clutching all over the place as he’d stared down at the girl who was fast asleep, that blonde strewn all over her pillow. He’d left with that picture of her emblazoned on his mind and the memory of her fingertips tracing shapes across his bare shoulders etched on him like a tattoo.

Five minutes later, he’d stumbled through his front door.

His daddy had been awake.

Didn’t matter that he’d denied it, his father knew where he’d been, spewing his old, misguided hatred at the Lanes through his drunken stupor.