Sorry for the wait…again. I had a snow day today; they're calling it the "Snowpocalypse". Creative, huh? So I figured I would take the time to do a little update. I loved this chapter! I'm not sure I did a great job though, so reviews are always welcome and, of course, boost my motivation :P. Hope this is long enough to keep you satisfied! Thanks for reading/sticking with me!

Becky called me that night. I didn't ask where she got the cell phone this time and, surprisingly, she didn't offer up the information. It was late, around three in the morning, but I was incapable of pulling myself away from my work until my cell rang. I barely heard it over the loud welding torch, but I clicked it off as soon as the ringing registered in my ears and pulled off my mask.

"Hey hottie," came her sultry voice.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, where locks of my hair were sticking to the skin. "Hey Beck's. This is a surprise. Is something wrong?"

I heard her fill her cheeks with air before blowing it out noisily. "No more than usual," she said. She started laughing. "One of the girl's gotta couple joints today. We're gonna have a little fun tomorrow before group therapy."

I rubbed my hand over my face in frustration. "Don't you think that's a bad idea?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level. "They're trained to catch that stuff Becky. They're not stupid."

"Are you saying I am?" she replied defensively.

"You know I don't think you're stupid. But they're trying to help you. Why don't you just let them?"

"Hey screw you, Wes," Becky snarled. "I don't need their goddamn help, okay? So don't give me any shit."

We were both silent for a while as we calmed down. An owl hooted right outside the barn, and the sound of singing crickets and other insects was suddenly absurdly loud. I leaned back against one of my work shelves, and the cool breeze from a window lapped at the back of my sweaty neck. It felt good.

"My dad called today," I said. It was a way to change the subject, since there was nothing that Becky loved more than a good ole rant about how shitty my dad was. But I also wanted her opinion. Despite the fact I knew what that would be, it was good to hear it, that I wasn't in the wrong to turn him down. My dad was the bad guy, and Becky reinforced that.

"What'd he want?" she asked quietly, the venom gone from her voice.

I picked up a piece of sea glass I had yet to use, twirling it between my fingers. "To meet him for lunch on Fathers' Day."

She snorted. "Please tell me you told him to go to hell."

I cleared my throat. "I told him I'd call him back."

"Are you kidding me? Wes, come on. You don't owe him shit. He's probably bored with his bullshit life and wants to spice it up with his long lost kids that he left in the dust."

I set the piece of glass down and stepped over to my work as Becky went on her rant. I'd heard it all before, and it suddenly wasn't what I wanted to hear. I walked around the angel with the grey eyes as she went on and on. I had thought listening to this would help me, make me feel better. But it didn't, and I suddenly wasn't sure what I needed to hear.

After a few more minutes, I did something I had never done before: I told Becky I had to go and hung up.

We were catering for a bridal shower a few nights later hosted in a very lumberjack-friendly, woodsy cabin. It was all good and fine, it was a fairly small cabin, so we only needed a couple people out running the floor with trays at a time. Macy and I were standing side-by-side, putting together finger sandwiches on napkins that said "Love is eternal". The whole shower was designed with this motto, with heart balloons and heart-shaped foods and little love sayings scattered in places you were forced to look at. I had come to the conclusion that this party was designed to make any single woman want to kill herself or overdose on Prozac.

I was thinking about my father and, consequently, Bert. Delia and Pete hadn't said a word to the latter, for which I was grateful. Again, I wondered why he hadn't tried to contact my brother. He must have known that it was only my answer that mattered, that Bert would only do what I decided.

"Are you okay?" came Macy's soft voice from my left. I looked at her, surprised. "You seem to be deep in thought."

I shrugged. "I guess," was all I said. She nodded, and I could see a couple locks of her blonde hair fall free of her ponytail. She blew them out of her face, concentrating on the sandwiches.

I cleared my throat. I wasn't the type to pass around my problems for everyone to hear. Usually the only people that heard of it consisted of Becky, Pete, and Delia. But Macy's unobtrusiveness made me want to talk to her about it, and she was smart, I was certain of that, so maybe she could help me out. "It's just, my dad called me yesterday," I started awkwardly. "He's been kind of out of our lives for a while now. Kind of bailed when my mom got sick."

It was quiet while Macy nodded her head in subdued sympathy, which I appreciated more than verbal pity. "What did he want?" she probed gently.

"To see if Bert and I would go out for lunch with him on Father's Day. He's going to be in town next week."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I'd get back to him."

I turned and watched her, leaning back against the counter as she made sandwiches and looked thoughtful.

"I can see why you wouldn't want to go," she said finally. "But it sounds to me like the answer's not so simple to you cause part of you wants to go and try to make things right."

I nodded, surprised that she had nailed it. "I just don't know if I can give him the satisfaction of going out with him on Father's Day, you know? I mean, it's kind of saying that what he did has been forgotten."

"Then don't take him out on Father's Day," she stated, wiping her hands off as she turned to look at me. "Take him out on a different day. That way, you're not giving him that satisfaction, but you'll make it known that you want to meet him halfway more or less."

I paused to think of this compromise. "You think so?"

She nodded without hesitation. "Family's important, Wes. He's your dad. You should make things right with him before he's…before it's too late. But it wouldn't be unfair of you to ask him to pay a little for what he did."

Again, her grey eyes looked turbulent and sad, and I knew somehow that it had been my fault. "Thanks, Macy," I said sincerely, appraising her in a new light. "I appreciate it."

She looked up quickly and gave me a half smile before going back to work on the finger sandwiches. I watched her for a few more moments before joining her.

The five of us were just finishing cleaning up while Delia got her (our) money. It was a quiet night, minus the fact that Kristy's armful of bangles made obnoxious jingling sounds every time she slapped at a mosquito, which occurred about every ten seconds. And then Bert had the bad habit of emitting sounds of a dying moose every time he had to lift something moderately heavy. I caught Macy suppressing a giggle or smile when this happened, but it was all in good-nature.

With another unnecessary grunt and groan, Bert closed the doors of the van and leaned against it with a huff.

"Hey Macy, you coming out with us tonight?" Kristy asked half-heartedly.

Macy looked up, and something flared to life in her eyes. "Yeah," she said, causing my jaw to nearly drop to the ground. "I am."

Kristy smiled offhandedly. "Cool," she stated smoothly, not an ounce of shock or surprise in her demeanor. "Come on."

I drove myself to the party since I was already in the area, delivering a car part that I'd been saving for a friend. Though I wasn't exactly close friends with the people I had been back in my more troubled days, I was glad I'd at least kept the connections. It was easier for me to get my hands on things I needed for my work, and I didn't mind helping an old friend or two out. Especially if it meant they'd be able to scrounge up something for me in the future. Just call me resourceful.

After parking and making a quick scan of the opening that the party was taking place in, I concluded that Monica, Bert, Kristy, and Macy hadn't arrived yet. I found a group of old friends and went to join them.

"Wes, my man!" said one of the guys, slapping me a little drunkenly on the back as I stepped up.

"Levi," I said, clasping his hand in the rough way that men do. "Devin, Kyle." I nodded at all of my old buddies.

"Hey," said Devin. "Who was that cutie you were with the other night?" As a valet at the reception hall for a party we had catered to, Devin had passed me with Macy, I recalled, more than a little chagrined.

"No one," I said.

"Didn't look like no one!" he said with a drunken laugh. He turned to Kyle and Levi. "You should've seen this chick, cute blonde thing with a snug little body. C'mon Wes, please tell me you're hittin' that."

I ground my jaw and could feel my hands fisting on their own accord in response to the crude language. "I'm with Becky."

"Great! So she's available!"

"Shut up, Devin. You're drunk," I bit angrily. Devin wasn't a dangerous guy, but he wasn't exactly a good one. The thought that Macy grabbed his attention and, now thanks to his outburst, the attention of the rest of this crowd, was unsettling.

He laughed, but toned it down. "Relax man, I'm not going to touch her. So how have you been?"

I talked with them for about fifteen minutes, but I was way too relieved when Devin left to hit up a different party. I didn't want him here when Macy arrived.

And arrive she did. I saw the Bertmobile pull up, so I finished up the conversation before heading in the direction the ambulance had parked. Macy's eyes were wandering around the clearing with excitement, so I took the moment to take in her appearance. I was not disappointed with what I saw, and sent a silent, guilty "thank you" to Kristy. She looked soft and relaxed, with her hair spilling in gentle waves over her shoulders. Her eyes seemed to look even brighter with the glittery makeup surrounding them.

I met Kristy's eyes as she walked with an oblivious Monica, and she was smirking at me, looking at me with a knowing look. "Hey," I said, ignoring her. "What took you guys so long?"

Bert rolled his eyes upward and made a gesture toward Kristy. "What do you think?" I wasn't surprised. Kristy was infamous for testing the patience of others. I had to admit though, before we met her, Bert had had the patience of a small child. Now, he hardly seemed to mind waiting over an hour outside in the mosquito-laden night for Kristy to make an appearance.

"I heard that," Kristy said. "You know, it takes a lot of time to look like this. You can't just throw this sort of outfit together." She made a Vana White flourish over her own body, emphasizing the sixties look she was sporting tonight. She looked good, but then again Kristy usually did.

"No?" Bert contested.

She ignored him. "A fat lot of good it's doing me here, though. There aren't any good prospects."

Bert wiped at scuff on the Bertmobile. "What about that guy at the keg?" he asked.

She looked at him as though he had just belched. "Please," she said. "Can't a girl have high standards? I don't want an ordinary boy."

In the jeep next to us, several girls started laughing as their blonde friend fell from the trunk. She giggled as she stood and started stumbling past us. Then, she saw Macy and stopped, wavering where she stood. She squinted at her. "Hey," she said. "I know you…Don't I know you?"

Macy looked startled. "Um, I'm not sure."

"I do, I do," she said, and started snapping her fingers. But she was a little too drunk for that complicated gesture.

"You know me, Rachel," Bert interrupted, his eyes a bit too low to be looking at her face. She was wearing a rather revealing halter top though. "Bert? I tutored you last summer at the Kaplan center, in math?"

This Rachel barely even acknowledged him before looking back to Macy and exclaiming, "Oh shit, I know! We used to run together, right? In middle school? And now you date that guy, the one who's always yelling at us about bicycling!"

There was a pause.

"Recycling?" Macy attempted.

She clapped her hands; again, this was a little too difficult for her. "Right! That's it!"

Somebody shrieked and started laughing. "Rachel, you're so freaking stupid!"

Rachel stumbled around and landed between Bert and Macy on the back of the Bertmobile. "God," she laughed. "Remember how much fun we used to have at meets? And you, shit, you were fast. Weren't you?"

My eyebrows raised on their own, and I took in Macy at a new angle. Her long legs looked strong, I could tell from even under the snug jeans. Just looking at her you could tell she was born to run.

It took me a second to stop looking at her legs.

"Not really," Macy was saying uncomfortably.

"You were!" she said, poking Bert in the arm, who flinched as though she was going to attack him. "You should have seen her. She was so fast, like she could…fly."

Kristy snorted and hid her mouth behind her hand. I gave her an amused look. Kristy could rarely tolerate girls.

"Like she had freaking wings, you know?"

I watched Macy's face as she became fixated on her own feet, and I could tell she wished the world would just swallow her up. Or Rachel.

"She won everything," Rachel said, to me this time. Then, she slapped Macy lightly on the arm, but she kind of missed in her subpar state. "You know, the only way anyone else ever got to win anything was when you quit."

There was silence until Macy cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Well," was all she said.

"We were the Running Rovers," Rachel continued on in a louder voice for her audience. Kristy muttered something under her breath, and I could tell she was annoyed. Rachel turned to Monica. "I always thought that name was so dumb, you know? It made us sound like dogs. Go Rovers! Woof! Woof!" She doubled over laughing.

I looked up at Macy, who looked beyond mortified, and she met my eyes as Kristy muttered, "Good God."

Macy broke eye contact as Rachel regained composure (as well as she could) and put a hand on her knee. "Look," she began. "I want you to know something, okay?"

Macy's eyes widened even more, as though she knew what was coming.

Rachel leaned over as if to whisper in her ear, but she must have forgotten to lower the volume of her voice cause we could all hear her loud and clear. "And what I want you to know is that I don't care what anyone says, I don't think you're all weird since that thing happened with your dad. I mean, that was messed up that you were there. Most people couldn't handle that, you know? Seeing someone die like that."

Kristy sucked in a sharp breath, but I didn't notice. Time seemed to stop as my heart broke at the look on Macy's face, the utterly defeated look of grief and despair. She tried to hide it, but I saw it, and I now knew why I hadn't seen her father at her house. I now knew why she had gotten that look in her eyes when I had spoken of my own dad.

I'd never wanted to hold someone more in my life than I did now, I wanted to reach out and touch her, envelop her in my arms so she could stop listening to this drunken, stupid girl. I wanted her to look at me, but she wouldn't. She just stared at the girl until somebody called out, "Rachel! Get over here or we're leaving you!"

"Oh!" Rachel leapt up clumsily. "Gotta go! I'm going," she said, as though she'd forgotten what she had just said. "But I meant what I said, okay? Remember that. Remember what I said. Okay?"

It was quiet as Rachel fell back into the jeep, her friends hauling her inside while laughing and calling her stupid. They drove away, screaming until they were out of earshot, and it was quiet amongst the five of us as we stood there, staring at Macy or our feet.

"That girl," Kristy started, walking over to Macy and enveloping her hand. I wish I had thought of that. "Is as dumb as a bag of hammers."

"No kidding," Bert offered, running a hand over his head. Macy looked up at Kristy, then at Bert, and I could see the defeated, apprehensive look start to fade just a little.

"Wasn't she the one you had to explain the concept of odd numbers during that summer math tutoring thing you did?" Kristy asked.

Bert nodded slowly. "Twice."

"Moron."

"Mmm-hmm," said Monica with a small smile and nod.

I looked at Macy and didn't see a girl that needed or wanted to be pitied. I hadn't when my mother died. So when she looked up at me, my face was void of any sympathy. I looked at her as I always had, as I saw her: a beautiful, strong girl. Those grey eyes bore into mine, and she was piecing together that we had something big in common, that I understood.

"Still, I did like her halter top," Kristy said longingly. I looked at Bert, and knew without a doubt that he was thinking he had liked it too. "I have a black skirt that would look just great with that."

I looked at Macy's hand, wrapped around Kristy's in between their laps, and I wished more than anything that it was my hand she was holding. I cleared my throat as I thought of Becky.

"I'm going to go get a beer," I stated, turning on my heel.

Again, sorry for the wait! Next chapter will begin in the party so get excited! Reviews are much appreciated.