Part III; Chapter 4
Summer 2026
The front door slammed behind me loudly as I stomped into the foyer. I chucked my backpack onto the floor, grumbling as it collided with the key table. It rattled the change in Mom’s old piggy bank and my heart skipped as the ceramic sculpture rocked. I let out a hard breath as the pig settled back on all fours, flopping onto the bottom stair. Mumbling to myself, I didn’t notice Dad appear in the hallway until he spoke, startling me.
“Everything OK, Shep?” he asked, cautiously.
“Yeah, fine.” I grumbled, kicking at the rug.
“Am I really supposed to believe that?”
I turned to look at Dad, the soft smirk on his face fueling the flames lapping at me. “Believe it or not, I don’t care,” I spat.
Dad took a few steps toward me, leaning against the mahogany railing on the stairs. “I know that I haven’t exactly been Father Of The Year since…” Dad’s voice trailed off, and he just stood there, looking at his hands for a minute before continuing. “I’m sorry about that, bud. I really am. And I know there isn’t a damn thing I can do to fix that, but I’m here for you now.”
“You know, I might have believed that a year and a half ago, Dad, but you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t really trust you on that right now.” I pushed myself off the stairs and grabbed my keys, rushing back out the door. As I started the Buick, I glanced in the rearview and caught Dad standing in the doorway, running a hand through his hair.
With a low growl, I peeled out of the driveway. I wasn’t sure where I was headed—I just drove. I wasn’t even really mad at Dad; Armond had placed me on an “indefinite vacation”, but I had little hope I’d be back working at Sinclare’s any time soon.
I hadn’t meant to snap at Dad; his lack of desire to get out of bed, much less work, the last two years was the whole reason I’d been working in the first place. We still had money saved up, but it was dwindling. With both Dad nor I working to supplement our savings account, it wouldn’t last long—especially since Abe and Junia were finally home again.
I drove around Tulsa for a long time—it seemed like hours. The moon was high when I finally came to a stop, the sky a dark blanket spattered with diamonds. It took me a moment to realize I was parked outside of Macy’s house, watching her silhouette move behind her curtains. Though I hadn’t consciously driven myself there, I knew I didn’t arrive at her doorstep by accident; after brief contemplation, I exited the car and walked toward her window, gently wrapping on the storm glass.
Macy jumped, obviously startled by the sound, her head jerking toward the window. Slowly, she walked toward it, pulling back the curtain. She seemed to relax whens he saw it was me, and pulled the window open so we could talk. “Shepherd! What the hell are you doing here?” she whispered loudly.
“I…don’t know,” I shrugged. “I just…Armond fired me, and I got into a fight with my dad, so I just drove. I didn’t mean to come here; I just did.”
Macy sighed, shifting her weight from foot to foot as a flash of lightning streaked across the sky; a low rumble I could feel in my chest immediately followed. The air felt thicker, heavier, as the wind picked up around me. With a sigh, Macy pulled the screen from the window. “Get inside—you can ride out the storm here.”
Without hesitation, I climbed through the window, awkwardly standing in the middle of her room. “Is your mom home?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah…but who knows if she’s conscious. I don’t particularly care if she is, anyway,” the disdain in her voice matched what I was feeling. “Are you OK, Shep?”
“No. Not at all,” I confessed. “I’m just done with all this bullshit,” I flopped onto her bed, letting out a long breath. I felt like I was deflating.
Tears burned at the corner of my eyes; I pressed my palms into them in an attempt to hide and halt their flow, but the harder I pressed, the more the tears threatened to fall. The bed dipped next to me as Macy sat down, and I felt her hands—so much smaller and softer than mine—gently pull on my forearms. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
Her voice was as soft as her touch, soothing my agitated mind. I sniffled a few times, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, using the back of my hands to wipe my eyes.
“You don’t have to apologize, either,” she smiled sweetly, brushing hair off my forehead. “Of all people, please don’t feel ashamed in front of me,” her voice was back to a whisper, her lips close to my ear as she spoke—when I turned to look at her, she pressed them to my own.
The kiss opened a floodgate of emotions, igniting a new fire within. As Macy dragged her tongue across my lower lip, my fingers tangled in her hair. The kiss became more fervent, Macy’s hands balling my shirt into fists. As she tugged at the fabric, she climbed into my lap, plunging her tongue into my mouth. I couldn’t help but to run my fingers up her bare thighs, finding their way over the fabric of her shorts and splaying across her ass.
Macy’s hips bucked forward, the friction giving me an instant hard on. I groaned against her mouth, my head falling back as she ground into me again. I felt her trail wet kisses over my jawline and down my neck. She nipped my earlobe as she refocused her kisses; the action caused me to pull down on her hips, and she pulled in a sharp breath. She moved her hands the hem of my shirt, removing it from my body; within minutes we were both lying on the bed in just our underwear.
The soft light from her bedside lamp cast a warm glow over her skin; my eyes followed a path over her, lingering on the curve of her hip as they moved. My body was otherwise frozen in place, unsure of what to do next, and even less sure of how to do it anyway. Seeming to realize I was too nervous to make the next move, Macy settled herself against her pillows, motioning me to join her.
I arranged myself next to her, the thunder outside paling in comparison to the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. Macy moved slowly to remove my boxers, then her panties and bra, before swinging one leg over my lap. She left a soft kiss on my lips as she leaned forward, reaching behind me to her bedside table. When she straightened back up, she was fumbling with the wrapper to a condom.
“Macy,” my voice came out slightly choked, a half-octave higher than usual. I placed my hand over hers, our eyes meeting. “Are you sure…?”
She seemed to consider my question briefly before replying. “I’m sure…why? Are you…I mean, don’t you want to?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “I—I mean yes, I definitely want to, I just…I haven’t…”
“You’re…a virgin?” Her tone wasn’t judging, but rather held a hint of relief.
My face burned, my eyes darting from hers embarrassedly. “Well…yeah. Have you ever…?”
“No, I haven’t,” she swallowed, sitting back a little over my knees.
I sat up a bit more, my hands finding her hips and pulling her gently toward me. “Are you really sure about this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you don’t want to,”
“Shepherd,” she laughed softly. “I want to.”