Chapter Text
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Mac pulled up outside Riley’s house and turned off the truck’s headlights. “Jack promises that it’s true.”
“What,” Riley’s features drew up into a picture of disbelief, “even the stuff about the firecrackers?”
“Yep,” Mac made the P of the word pop, “he swears that’s what happened. He put his hand on his heart and everything.”
“Did he go all ‘my word is oak’?” Riley asked as she undid her seatbelt and opened the truck’s passenger side door.
“As good as.” Mac unfastened his own seatbelt. “He went all big eyed, like a puppy.”
“He’s learned that from you.” Riley accused, smiling, and stepped out of the truck. “You do that to him all the time.”
“Not all the time, just when I’m sure it’ll work.” Mac climbed down out of the truck chuckling. “I’m so full,” he moaned, rubbing his middle, “why did we eat all that pizza?”
“Because it was there,” Riley stretched up to ease her own bloated stomach, “like Mount Everest but with a stuffed crust.”
They headed up the paved path to Riley and Diane’s house together. The lights were on in the downstairs rooms and their windows glowed in the evening that was falling with hushed shades of blue. Jack had helped Diane mow her lawn the day before and the fresh smell of clippings still lingered.
“Next time I get the pizza and you pay for the games,” Mac said. Pizza and arcade games together had become a regular fixture in Mac and Riley’s lives. They were going to be family, they were family, so when Riley had suggested they go for pizza and skee ball together Mac had agreed. Their conversations in the arcade had been a little stilted at first. Both of them had been awkwardly caught in the idea that they should act like they were as close as siblings because they were supposed to, but they quickly realised that they were actually close, that nothing had to be forced, and their dynamic went back to being as free and easy as it had always been. Bozer and Katie sometimes came with them to Pizza Paradise but that night it had just been the two of them playing games and eating greasy food. The overload of carbs and cheese slowed Mac’s steps and lazy affection had him drop a hand on Riley’s arm. “But you’re still not allowed to hack any of the games, it’s cheating.”
Riley blew a raspberry, “It’s not cheating, it’s just using my skills.”
“Using your skills to cheat.”
“Using my skills to…” Riley waved one hand in a circle in front of her “…enhance the experience.”
Mac and Riley were both laughing, bumping into each other and staggering away, when a sound like a raised voice came from inside Riley’s house. She froze in place.
“Ri?” Mac asked.
Another noise carried through to where Mac and Riley stood, a hard, sudden shout. Riley paled.
“Riles, what-?” Mac asked. Something familiar and dreadful had caught in his breath at the angry sounds. He knew those kinds of noises, he knew what they meant, but he didn’t know how they could be coming from Diane and Riley’s home
Riley burst into a run, sprinting the last few feet to her house. As she reached her front door it opened and a man appeared in the doorway.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Riley skidded to a stop. “Dad.”
What Mac knew about Riley’s father he’d gathered from insinuations and snippets of conversations. Even though he and Riley were close discussions about their pasts were navigated carefully, both of them knowing that the subject was deeply personal and one neither of them felt ready to fully open up about. Jack was careful when he talked about Diane’s ex-husband but Mac could see in the tension in his jaw and the precision with which he chose his words that Diane’s ex Elwood was someone he despised. Mac knew Elwood belonged to a dark time in Riley and Diane’s lives, a bad memory of a before that they’d both tried to escape. And he was stood in their house filling the doorway with his shoulders hitched like he was facing a rival off in a bar.
“And you are?” Elwood gave Mac a smile as warm as a shark’s welcome. He was average height, had dark hair and blue eyes and a brow that was beginning to line with age and disappointments, and he was wearing jeans, a t shirt and old boots. He looked normal, like someone you would see buying gum in a corner store, but then what did a person who was the face of another’s nightmare look like anyway? What would James look like to someone who didn’t know him?
“This is Mac,” Riley said.
Elwood’s chin rose a fraction. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“He’s my friend,” Riley replied, “we go to the same school.”
“Well, hello, Mac.” Elwood’s smile widened, became sharper and imperious. “Thank you for dropping Riley home. She’ll see you later. You were going, right?”
“I…” Mac stumbled over his words in the face of Elwood’s hard look. Riley had a program she wanted Mac to see, they’d plan to go through it together, and he didn’t want to leave her and her mom alone with that man, not like this, not when he’d seen her fear.
“Bye, Mac.” Riley turned around so she was facing Mac with her back to her father. “Thanks for dropping me home, I’ll see you in school,” her eyes were wide and she fixed Mac with an earnest look, “tell your dad I said hi,” she added. Normally Riley would have said, ‘tell your dad he owes me a Mario Cart rematch’, or ‘tell Jack howdy’ or something else teasing and affectionate. But there was nothing normal about the scene happening on Diane’s front porch. Mac had never seen Riley look so unsure or vulnerable. She hadn’t been scared when she’d faced off with Donnie the bully even though he was bigger, stronger and dumber than her and had a reputation for dealing with his fellow students by swinging for them, but now, in the presence of her dad Mac saw genuine fear under the determined set of her features.
“Okay,” Mac nodded, his gut clenching, “I will. Bye Riley.”
“See you, Mac,” Elwood called, shifting his body to make space in the doorway and summoning Riley with a gesture. “Riley, come inside.”
Riley turned from Mac and walk past her father, vanishing into the house and out of Mac’s sight. Elwood closed the door without glancing back at Mac who stood staring at the wood wracked with uncertainty. He wavered on the path, remembering the shouts he had heard and the way Elwood‘s hand had reached out towards Riley, and feeling a pull to both knock on the door and rush away to find somewhere where he could call Jack. Mac turned and, aching with doubt, headed back to the truck, climbed inside and pulled away.
As Mac drove tiny tremors skittered through his nerves like a hailstorm of panic. He had recognised the look in Elwood’s eyes and the danger in his voice. It was the same expression James used to have when he’d glare at Mac with steely menace and say, ‘do we have a problem, boy?’ Something was wrong and Mac needed to find a way to fix it. He knew he couldn’t do it alone so he drove to the next block and pulled over, fumbled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Jack.
“Hey, kiddo.” Jack answered, “You done eating all the pizza in the world?”
“Jack, it’s Riley’s dad,” Mac stammered, “he was at her house. He came to the door when we got there. She…”
“What?” Jack demanded, his voice low and hard in a way Mac wasn’t used to. “Elwood was at Diane’s house, are you sure?”
“Yes, I think Riley was scared.”
“Did you see Diane?”
“No. I just dropped Riley off and left, should I go back?” Mac twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder as if he could see past the distance that separated them and into Diane and Riley’s home. “If something bad is happening shouldn’t I go back there?”
“No,” Mac heard Jack moving and the sound of a door slamming. “You should come home. I’m going to take care of things.”
“I can’t leave them if they’re in trouble,” Mac said. He couldn’t just drive away, not if Diane and Riley needed help. It wouldn’t be right. They were family and he should help them. He wouldn’t walk away from anyone who needed help. “I could stay with them until you get there. I could...”
“No!” Jack barked, then he softened his voice, “Come home, son, you've taken care of Di and Riley by telling me what’s going on. What you need to do now is come home so I know you’re safe.”
Mac’s gusted exhale hissed through his phone’s speaker. “But I-“
“I know you want to take care of them, buddy, and you have,” Jack said. “It’s my turn now.”
Driving away would be like abandoning Diane and Riley. Mac’s stomach turned at the thought.
“It’s going to be okay, son,” Jack added, hearing Mac’s reluctance in his silence. “I’ve got this.”
Mac looked back towards Diane and Riley’s house again. Evening had finally darkened the sky and brought on the streetlights. Now that the sun had set the air had cooled passing a chill that was nothing to do with fear or doubt over Mac. He shivered, goose bumps rising on his arms, as he stared down the street searching for a sign telling him what to do.
“Come home so I don’t have to worry about you too.” The thud of a car door closing punctuated Jack’s plea. “I’ll be there in no time and I’ll need to know that you’re safe so I can settle what needs to be dealt with.”
Jack was coming. He would take care of everything. And if Jack said that Mac should go home then that’s what Mac would do. Mac trusted Jack.
“Okay,” Mac reluctantly agreed. The truck’s engine starting broke the hush of the quiet street and Mac flinched at the loud, metallic growl. “I’m coming home now.”
“Thank you, kiddo,” Jack said, “You’re doing the right thing. Promise me you’re coming straight home.”
“I promise. Be careful.”
“I will, everything’s going to be okay.” Mac heard the responding rumble of the GTO’s engine. “I’m driving over now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”
Jack hung up.
Mac’s headlights shone on the road ahead of him. He could follow the road home or he could turn the truck around and drive to Riley’s house. It would only take a minute to get there. Maybe him being there might help calm things down until Jack arrived. Mac bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably in the worn leather of his seat. Jack said he would take care of everything, he’d know what to do and he’d be furious with Mac if he broke his promise and put himself in danger. Mac swore quietly but colourfully and pulled away from the kerb and headed home.
The TV was still on when Mac arrived home. The lights were all blazing and a half empty cup sat on the coffee table surrounded by a brown stain as if Jack had thumped it down not noticing or caring if his drink spilled. Jack was usually fastidious about turning out lights and switching off plugs before he left the house or went to bed. If Mac hadn’t heard Jack’s hasty reaction to the news that Elwood was in Riley and Diane’s home he still would have known that something was wrong.
Mac picked up Jack’s cup and took it into the kitchen then grabbed a cloth to clean up the spilled coffee. He dithered in the living room afterwards, wanting to move, to do, but with no idea of a direction or goal. Elwood was trouble. Diane and Riley could be in trouble. Jack could be too and there was nothing Mac could do about it. He straightened the cushions on the sofa for something to occupy his hands with then washed up Jack’s cup and the dishes from dinner, stacked them neatly in the cupboard and paced over to the door of his basement lab. His heavy steps were an echoing clatter on the basement stairs. The lab was a haven, somewhere Mac could experiment and explore in comfort but right then it’s distance from real life responsibilities was too far. Mac fingered one of the tools lying on his worktop absently, eyeing the design sketched in scribbles on the back of an envelope that was stuck to the wall with tape. He couldn’t sit there tinkering if something bad was happening to the people he cared about. Maybe he couldn’t help them but he shouldn’t hide either. He might not hear Jack arrive home if he was in the basement - what if Jack needed him? A sweep of his arm sent the tools and parts from the counter crashing into an empty box which Mac clutched to his chest as he stomped with purpose back up the stairs and into the kitchen. He filled the tea kettle and put it on to boil. He didn’t want a coffee, it was far too late for caffeine, but he didn’t feel right about having a hot chocolate so he found a packet of Diane’s fruit teas and poured hot water over a Berry Cherry Boom teabag and took the cup over to the sofa with his box of parts. A sip of the tea had Mac wrinkling his nose, it didn’t taste as nice as it smelled - it was really just hot water with a metallic tang – but there was comfort in holding the warm mug between his hands.
Channel surfing found Mac an old sit-com that he left on in the background as he worked on his boxed up project. He loosened and retightened nuts and bolts, reassessed connections, recalculated conclusions, not really trying to achieve anything. As distracted as Mac was he was sure that anything he tried to do would go wrong and would have to be unpicked later. He worked hard at not looking at his phone to check the time, to check if Jack had called, to see if Riley had sent a text or to pick up the phone and call them himself. Jack might be driving, or...busy...and if Mac thought about interrupting him he would have to think about what he might be interrupting and he didn’t want to do that.
Everything would be fine. Jack would be fine. He’d promised. Mac turned over his gadget, it’s hard metal warming as he held it and it’s sharp edges and smooth texture reassuringly solid and controllable in his hands.
Time passed. Jack didn’t come home. The sit-coms on the channel he’d chosen became black and white and Mac recognised the faces on the screen as being from the shows everyone said were classics. Some of the antics happening on the TV were funny, some were dated, and Mac put his project down to lay back on the sofa and watch the monochrome images move without really paying attention to them.
He must have drifted into a dreamless sleep because the sudden sound of the front door opening jolted him into sitting. He blinked, dry mouthed and disorientated, as Jack appeared in the doorway.
“Jack?” Mac called.
“Kiddo,” Jack said, pausing to stare at Mac. His expression showed his surprise as something else, something wary or regretful, jerked through him, “you waited up?”
“Yeah,” Mac hauled himself up out of the sofa to stand. “I wanted to know if everything was okay. Is everyone okay – you and Diane and Riley - are you all right?” Mac studied Jack. He wasn’t bleeding or carrying himself as if he was nursing an injury. There was fatigue in his face but not strife or pain. The hunched muscles in Mac’s back loosened a little but then -
“We’re okay, buddy,” Jack raised his hands, an encompassing, celebratory gesture, “everything is all right.” Then Jack lowered his arms down to his sides and Mac saw the bruises on his knuckles.
Whatever Mac was going to say turned to dust in his throat. He stared at the marks on his dad’s hands. Jack followed Mac’s gaze down to his knuckles and his head snapped up when he realised what Mac was looking at.
“Son,” Jack’s hands rose back up in entreaty, “listen...”
“It’s okay,” Mac stammered, “I get it, you needed to take care of Diane and Riley.” Mac did understand. Really. If Elwood had been hurting Diane or Riley Jack would have done whatever he had to do to defend them, and Mac wanted him to. He wanted Diane and Riley to be safe. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bruises on Jack’s hands.
“That’s true,” Jack stepped towards Mac, “but I don’t want you to think, that is, I don’t want you thinking that’s how I solve problems or that I take what happened lightly. The situation, son...”
“I get it,” Mac repeated. He only realised he’d taken a step backwards when his calves bumped into the sofa behind him. He wasn’t afraid, the burning chill inside him urging him away from Jack wasn’t made of fear, but something had him wanting to put space between him and his dad. He didn’t want to be near those hands or those bruises or the sad, guilty regret on Jack’s face.
Silence fell, a barrier as thick as fortress defences, freezing both father in son in place and making the space between them impassable. What separated Mac and Jack wasn’t the storm cloud that used to haunt Mac with thoughts of how dad’s hit and that he was too broken to be loved. The thing between them was almost electric, like a wall of energy, not solid exactly, but able to push.
“I...” Mac tried, wanting to reassure Jack even while he didn’t want to be near him. He wasn’t scared. He didn’t blame Jack. But he didn’t want to be close to him right then. “Should I get the first aid kid?” Mac asked, pointing to Jack’s hands.
“No, I don’t think so,” Jack shook his head then looked down at his knuckles, “I think maybe I just need to run these under the cold tap for a while.”
“Okay.” Mac nodded tightly. Behind him a live studio audience from decades ago laughed uproariously. Mac wanted to say something about the TV shows he’d been watching. He could ask Jack about them, maybe tease him a little about being old enough to remember a time before colour TV had been invented, prompt a story or two about Nana Bea’s favourite shows and how the whole family had sat and watched them together on an evening but he couldn’t make the words come. It was never awkward between Mac and Jack. Even when Mac had first started working at the stable and had been unsure how to take the effusive friendliness of his new boss their conversations hadn’t been uncomfortable. Jack hadn’t judged or intimidated Mac back then, even when he was jumpy and tongue tied but now, standing in the living room with the marks of violence on Jack’s hands, neither of them could think of anything to say to each other.
“So I’ll go do that then,” Jack shrugged, sending Mac an awkward little nod.
“Everyone is okay, right?” Mac blurted as Jack started to move.
“Everyone’s fine,” Jack said. “Di and Riles are probably tucked up in bed right now and Elwood is gone for good. I watched him drive out of town myself, waved bye bye as his tail lights vanished into the distance.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Are you okay, son?”
Mac looked straight at Jack to find his dad searching his face, Mac hated the worry he saw and pulled a smile he didn’t feel from somewhere. “Yeah, I’m tired, maybe I should go to bed.”
“That’s a good idea. I think we could all do with a good night’s sleep right about now.”
Mac thought about moving then realised that he didn’t want to walk through the doorway because he’d have to pass Jack. Jack must have seen that on his face, or he wanted out of the uncomfortable conversation too, because he waved a hand in a farewell, “goodnight son,” he said, and headed down the hall towards his room.
“Goodnight Jack.”