“Who the hell are you?” Tyler growls and looks down his nose at Jonah.
Jonah gulps.
“Tyler, this is Jonah. Jonah, Tyler.” Mack jogs over to Tyler and wraps herself around one of his beefy arms. “Jonah’s the boy from the rink I was telling you about. This kid is gonna go all the way to the Olympics, I know it.”
“Mack wanted to learn some of my training techniques.” Jonah glances around the room as he says this, obviously looking for a potential escape route.
The vein in the side of Tyler’s pale neck throbs. “Didn’t look like training to me.”
And for once, Mack is silent. The same Mack who once got kicked out of Walmart for defending a cashier with a speech impediment from some nasty high school boys. The same Mack who will tell you, yes, those jeans do make your ass look big. The same Mack who will tell you that you could be #1 again if you got off your ass and took it back. That Mack is suddenly silent. Or maybe silenced.
One match and this room is going to explode. I strut over to Jonah and wrap my arm around his waist.
“Jonah’s been cross-training with me too,” I tell Tyler while squeezing myself tighter against Jonah’s rigid torso.
“Why don’t you kids go grab a soda in the kitchen?” Mack gives me a pleading look. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“C’mon, sweetie, let’s give them some space.” I let go of Jonah’s waist and lace my fingers through his icy ones. I pull him into motion.
Tyler doesn’t move. He glares down at Jonah as we squeeze by. The door slams closed behind us. Jonah doesn’t breathe again until we get to the kitchen.
“I don’t know what Mack sees in him,” I whisper.
I open up the fridge and dig around. When I close the door again, Jonah’s face is still pale. I hold out a can of Pepsi to him.
“She had a cramp in her back. I was releasing the muscle.” Jonah pops open the can and takes a big chug. “Did it look that bad?”
“No. Well, okay, yes.”
“I’m dead.” Jonah runs a hand through his hair. “I am so dead.”
We hear Mack’s bedroom door burst back open, followed by heavy feet coming down the hallway. Jonah falls into a kitchen chair and pulls me onto his lap like a human shield.
“Oh, hey.” Jonah tightens his arms around me. I play my part by nuzzling his neck. Jonah’s voice breaks when he says, “So, are you coming to the bout with us tonight, Tyler?”
“Nah. I’ve got stuff to do.” Somehow Tyler—wearing khaki pants and a white polo shirt with the name of the electronics store he’s a drone at—manages to take up the entire kitchen.
“C’mon, honey. Granny’ll watch Fiona.” Mack slips her arm around Tyler’s waist. “I’ll ask her. She won’t mind. They should be back any minute now.”
“Nah. I don’t want to watch that shit.” Tyler snakes his arm around Mack’s back, letting his hand rest on her butt. “Come home with me instead.”
Mack squirms. “I don’t know.”
“Derek will get us a six-pack or two. We’ll hang and stuff.” Tyler pats Mack’s butt. “My mom doesn’t care if you sleep over. Long as we’re quiet.”
“But I promised Liv and Jonah…”
“You kids don’t mind, do you?”
“I mind.” Mrs. MacIntosh pushes between Mack and Tyler into the kitchen and places Fiona, asleep in her car seat, on the kitchen table. “I have Bunco tonight, Tyler. So you are on Daddy Duty in about…” She looks at her watch. “Fifteen minutes.”
“But, Granny, Tyler was going to come to the bout with me tonight. Right?” Mack nods at Tyler.
“No, he’s not. Tyler’s going to man up and take care of his daughter tonight.” Mrs. MacIntosh goes to the cupboard and pulls out a canister of formula. “I’m going to take a shower. Your daughter should be awake any minute now. She will expect both dinner and a clean diaper.”
Tyler grumbles and runs a hand through his already receding, deep brown hairline. “I have shi … stuff to do tonight.”
“Not tonight, you don’t.” Mrs. MacIntosh gives Mack a pointed look. “Annabelle, the derby girls are expecting your support tonight. Get going.”
Tyler gives Mack a wounded-puppy face. Pathetic.
Mack starts to cave. “Maybe I should stick around.”
“No. You made a promise to Olivia and her … um … boyfriend, and we MacIntoshes honor our commitments even when they are inconvenient or not what we want to do.” Mrs. MacIntosh crams the canister of formula into Tyler’s chest until he takes it. “You’ve worked every day this week, Annabelle. You deserve a break. Speaking of work, isn’t today a payday? Pony up, Tyler. Your daughter has almost outgrown all her clothes.”
“You see, this month I’m a little tight.” Tyler shrinks several feet.
“Unacceptable. If you have enough money for a brand-new truck, then you have enough money to take care of your child.” Mrs. MacIntosh steps forward, and Tyler takes a step back. “Do I need to call your mother? Do we need to have another meeting about this? Do I need to get a lawyer involved this time?”
For someone who is barely over five feet tall, there is no doubt in my mind that Granny MacIntosh can—and will—open a can of whoop-ass if you cross her family. Tyler has suddenly managed to shrink to half his original size.
“No, ma’am,” Tyler mumbles.
“Well then. If you have a car seat correctly installed in your truck, then you may take my great-granddaughter to your house. If not, you will stay here with her until Annabelle gets back from the roller derby bout with her young friends.”
“We’re gonna go now, Granny.” Mack leans over to kiss Fiona, who has somehow managed to sleep through the increasing decibels of the room. Mack yanks me off Jonah’s lap and toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Jonah stumbles two steps behind us. He doesn’t even stop to introduce himself to Mack’s grandmother or clarify that he’s not my boyfriend. He doesn’t even call shotgun when we get to Mack’s car.
Jonah falls into the back seat. “You have a baby?”
“Yes, that’s what can happen when you have unprotected sex.” Mack’s voice is frequently sarcastic, but for once, it’s acidic too. “Who did you think the baby paraphernalia around my house belonged to?”
I punch Mack in the arm.
“Sorry, Choi.” Mack takes a deep breath. “Things are a little … awkward between Tyler and me right now. And Granny isn’t helping.”
Jonah scoffs. “I think Granny kinda kicks ass.”
“Yeah, she does. Speaking of awkward, what was that in the kitchen?”
Jonah shrugs.
“Self-preservation,” I answer for him.
“No,” Jonah says too fast. “Okay, maybe a little.”
Mack groans. “I want to forget about Tyler and all the other garbage going on in my life right now. I hope Barnacle Barb knocks some heads together tonight. Wish I could be out there with them.”
“You’ll get there.” Jonah puts a hand on Mack’s shoulder and squeezes it. “Be patient.”