Protecting What's Mine(52)

Or the very important ability to efficiently deliver sexual satisfaction.

When she let herself think about it, Mack was sure Linc could deliver on all those fronts.

Hell. Not having sex with the man was only making her think about having sex with him more. It was the classic forbidden fruit.

Her phone vibrated.

It was a text from Ellen, including a selfie in a swim cap.

Ellen: Five swims in toward the new me. I hate kale. But I can tolerate arugula. And I haven’t murdered anyone in my house yet! How’s the meditation going? I found an app that might help!





She decided to respond later…after she’d meditated. Just as she was pocketing her phone, it buzzed again.

Andrea: Kenzie, your direct deposit STILL isn’t here, and my rent is due! I’d think you’d be more responsible than this.





One day late.

One fucking day late because some dumbass broke her foot.

She shouldn’t be responsible for Andrea. The woman was an adult. Mack knew her guilt was misplaced. But it was so much easier to transfer the money every month than to have the conversation. To take that stand. Because she knew once she did, it would be her final one.

Calmly, Mackenzie squelched the urge to hurl her phone into the trash can in front of them. She pushed aside the knee-jerk emotional fallout that texts like these always brought. She had more pressing matters to deal with.

She cleared her throat. “You know, Leroy. It’s been a while since you’ve had a checkup,” she said, dragging her attention back to her purpose when he sat back down.

He sighed heavily. “You sound like Dr. Dunnigan. She put you up to this before she left?”

“We should schedule a checkup. You haven’t been seen in almost two years. Not since your hip surgery. The surgeon made a note that you skipped out on the last follow-up.”

Leroy mentioned something about Dr. Tattletale under his breath.

“We just want you to be healthy,” she pressed. “You’ve got Tyrone here depending on you. I want to keep you healthy enough to throw ball with him for a long time. But I can’t do that without seeing you for a physical. We don’t even know if you’re still on your blood thinners.”

“I’m not,” he told her. The droop in his shoulders made her feel bad for taking the shine off Tyrone’s athletic prowess.

“I’m overweight,” he said. “I’m old. I don’t need anyone else telling me that.” His lips pressed in a firm, unyielding line under the white of his mustache.

“Who told you that?” It certainly didn’t sound like something Trish or Russell would say.

“The surgeon. He told me it was a waste of time doing the surgery on me if I wasn’t going to get off my ass and get healthier.”

“Ouch,” Mack sympathized. There was that shame again. And instead of motivating him to do better, the shame had made Leroy retreat from the subject entirely. Russell was right. Some doctors didn’t care about their patients as people. But she wasn’t going to be one of them. “Look, you’re in good shape. You have to be to keep up with an eight-year-old. And not all doctors are…”

He looked left and right then whispered, “Assholes?”

“Exactly.”

He still didn’t look convinced.

“I’m here to help you figure out how to stay healthy and well for years to come. That surgery might have thrown you for a loop. I know it was a long, complicated recovery, and your surgeon sounds like a jackass. But moving forward, you and I can be proactive to keep something like that from happening again.”

“I can’t not be here for him. Tyrone needs me. His mom needs me.”

And Leroy needed them.

“Then we start with a physical,” she said firmly.

She pulled up the scheduling app on her phone. “How does next Tuesday look?”

Mack limped her way toward the parking lot, feeling like she’d had her own victory on top of the Benevolence Spider Pigs’ win. He’d pushed her back to Halloween with a litany of excuses. But she’d nailed Leroy down for a physical and bloodwork. She’d also added the friendly threat that she’d show up on his doorstep with her medical bag if he bailed on her.

“Hey there, doc.” Georgia Rae, in a powder blue sweater set embroidered with sparkly threaded flowers, waved from the concession stand.

“Dr. Mack.” Skinny Carl, the man with a lot of opinions and children, nodded at her. He had a baby in one arm and a toddler on a leash tied to his belt.

Mack waved back and quickened her pace toward the parking lot.

After she’d locked down Leroy’s appointment, she’d given a foot rash a cursory glance and chatted with a mother of five who suggested Mack consider hosting a community flu shot clinic.

An idea tickled at the back of her mind. She tucked it away to mull over later.

“Skipping out on us, Dreamy?”

She turned and saw Sunshine bolting toward her in a blur of tail and tongue. Linc followed. His greeting was slightly more tempered than the dog’s, but she still picked up on his enthusiasm in the slightly lecherous look he shot her legs.

A pack of kids in grass-stained uniforms and a collection of skin tones and missing teeth closed around them. “Coach Chief Linc, are we going for ice cream? Are we?”