Page 145 of Pretty Mess

He goes to speak, hesitates, and then, with an air of grim determination, says. “You got hurt because of me.”

That statement is completely unexpected. “What are you talking about, Mac?” I repeat.

He gestures at my face. “Ian beat you up. He hurt you, and he tried to rape you, for fuck’s sake.”

Julian was right, not that I’ll ever tell him. “I know. I was there. Which is why I’m unsure why it’syourfault.”

“He attacked you because of me. Ian hates me because I cancelled his contract and cost him a lot of money.”

“He told me that.”

“He had a grudge, and he took it out on you,” he continues doggedly. “He couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t taken you to that stupid fucking party.”

I hesitate and then ask the question that’s been in my head since I left him. “Why did you?”

He runs his hand through his hair. “I wanted distance.”

Stung, I try to step back but his sad eyes stop me. “Well, you got that.”

“You were getting too close,” he bursts out. “And I needed to reset the boundaries.”

I sigh and step closer to him. I feel suddenly weary. “Mac, it’s not your fault.” He goes to argue, and I hold up my hand to stop him. “You had a right to want distance. It was your arrangement after all.” He opens his mouth to speak but I carry on quickly. “And the assault was all Ian’s fault. He decided what he was going to do, and I have to say that if a business contract is all that’s standing between him and rape, then he’s a complete cunt. Whocareswhat his reason was? It’s his actions that matter.”

“Icare,” he says passionately and then takes a calming breath. “You would never have been in that position if not for me.”

“Yes, I would,” I say quietly. “There’s plenty of blame for why I was at that club. We could blame Tyler’s addiction. His shitty choices. My friendship with Julian. My questionable choice to take Julian’s advice.” I huff out a laugh. “But ultimately, I was the one who decided to go to that club and start seeing you.”

“And that’s another thing.” He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes wild. “I wish you’d told me.”

“About Tyler?” When he nods, again I have to ask, “Why?”

“Because I could have helped you. I hate that you were with me because of that awful situation you had nothing to do with.”

I spread my hands, feeling helpless about this entire conversation. “How the hell could you have helped me? You were a stranger. The club had rules and so did you, by god. I couldn’t have—wouldn’t have—spilled my personal shit all over you.”

“Be that as it may…” He shrugs. “I just hate it.”

“I don’t hate that I was with you.” His head jerks up at my quiet admission, and he stares at me. I gesture at him. “I’m glad it was you. I willalwaysbe glad it was you.”

A silence falls as we begin to walk again. The conversation was difficult, both in what I said and what I heard, but as a gentle breeze ruffles my hair, I feel like it’s blowing away a few old hurts and worries. Walking beside Mac feels easier.

“The clinic is the best in Europe,” he says quietly. He reaches into his pocket and draws out a card. He hands it to me, and I look down at it. It’s heavy and embossed with the clinic’s logo and a doctor’s name and phone details. “That is Tyler’s doctor. Tyler isn’t allowed a phone for a while, but if you’re amenable, Doctor Bola will text you weekly to let you know what is happening. He has Tyler’s permission for that.”

I stare at the card, running my finger over the letters. When I look up, I’m surprised at the gentle look on his face. “Thank you,” I say simply. “You’ve given him a chance that no one else could.”

“There’s no need for thanks. I would do anything for you.” He gestures and I see that we’re back at the park entrance. “Back where we started,” he says.

Are we?I don’t say it. Instead, I say, “I’m sorry for making you meet me again when I walked away.” I give an awkward laugh. “I must be giving off very strange signals at the moment. I just feel so helpless and alone.”

“I know.” Something in his voice tells me he does know, and I wish I could hug him again, but I can’t. “And there’s nothing wrong with a faulty signal or two.” He cups my face in his palms, his eyes full of a funny sort of humour.

I can’t help my laugh. “Whoareyou?”

“I’m Mac. The man who you made, Wes. And now I’m stuck somewhere between Mac and Cormac.”

I catch my breath. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I thought so at first, but now I don’t know.” His eyes sharpen.