Read Online Dead Spots by Rhiannon Frater - Free Book Online

hand.
    Devona’s smirk faded slightly, but then she shrugged. “I’ll leave it right here if you need it.”
    Mackenzie uttered a subdued “thank you” and followed Grant to a booth. She hadn’t even been aware of the din of the café disappearing until the silence was broken. The jukebox restarted, Jim Morrison’s voice rising above the returning chatter. The rustle of many bodies turning away from observing her interaction with the waitress sent fresh shivers through her body. Gripping the tote ever more tightly, she trailed Grant, her gaze steadfastly resting on the spot between his shoulder blades. Dread flitted through her when she caught a few furtive glances from the people clustered around the tables.
    Grant slid into the booth on the side where he’d be facing the door while Mackenzie sank onto the bench across from him. Her view was of big-pane glass windows bordered by pink gingham curtains, the jukebox, and a corner table where a lone customer sat waiting for her order. The young woman was probably around Mackenzie’s age, with gleaming blond hair that was brushed to perfection around a sweet face with slightly rounded cheeks and big brown eyes. The woman’s immaculate appearance—from her pink sweater to her white lace blouse and carefully manicured fingernails—resembled an ad in a magazine more than actual reality.
    But then again Mackenzie’s grasp on reality had obviously faltered in the last fifteen minutes.
    What if she was in the dilapidated café seated on a torn vinyl bench, its rotting stuffing filled with dead insects? What if the table was really strewn with dead leaves? What if there was no one actually sitting across from her? The barrage of terrifying thoughts produced a slight, frantic gasp from her lips and she covered her mouth with one hand.
    â€œDon’t, Mackenzie,” Grant said firmly, yet kindly. “Hold on. Don’t break down.”
    â€œI’m imagining you,” Mackenzie protested.
    â€œNo, you’re not.” Sliding his hand across the table, Grant clutched hers. “You’re not imagining me.” He squeezed her fingers until she cried out and tugged her hand away. “See. Could a hallucination do that?”
    Rubbing her hand, she grimaced. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never lost my mind before.”
    Mackenzie almost had on that awful day when she’d stood next to Joshua’s grave, her mind fragile, fractured, and ready to explode into a million shards. A scream had clawed its way from her soul to her mouth and only Tanner’s comforting arm around her shoulders had kept it silent. She felt that same madness starting to build within her and knew it was time to take back control of her mind. Resolved, she scrounged around in her purse. Withdrawing the bottle of Xanax, she fished one out and swallowed it dry. For a second, she wondered if it would work or if it was imaginary, but she forced the thought away. Her mind needed to believe the pill could make her better so she could regain control. Maybe then she would wake up, or shake free of the delusion.
    â€œWhat did you take?” Grant asked, concerned.
    â€œA pill for anxiety.”
    Cocking his head, Grant scrutinized her. “Do you suffer from it a lot?”
    Mackenzie hesitated, then nodded. “This year I have.”
    â€œJust order lunch and don’t…” Grant wavered. “Just think about eating lunch and nothing else.”
    Candy paused at their table. Her long fake eyelashes fluttered flirtatiously at Grant. “What can I get for you today?”
    The menus were tucked behind a wire basket filled with condiments. Grant snagged two and handed Mackenzie one. The waitress remained paused over their table, pad and pen in hand.
    â€œUh…” Mackenzie was starved, but what would she end up eating? An acorn? Dirt? The food on the menu looked amazing and her stomach rumbled.