Marry Me, Mackenzie!. Joanna Sims

to say. He had been dragged from one emotional spectrum to the next in the span of an hour. At the beginning of their meeting, all he felt for Mackenzie was anger. But while Mackenzie was telling her story, and with the ocean wind blowing the wispy tendrils of her hair across her pretty face, she reminded him of the girl she had once been. The girl he remembered so vividly from his childhood—the chubby bookworm with thick glasses who used to read her books in the backseat of one of her father’s vintage cars. All the boys in the neighborhood ignored Jett’s sister, but he never did. Maybe it was because he liked how different she was than the rest of the girls. Or maybe it was because he had only seen her smile once after her mom died. He had never thought to analyze it. He had always just liked Mackenzie.

      “Because we used to be friends,” Dylan said.

      “Were we?” Mackenzie asked.

      “I always thought so.” Dylan caught her gaze and held it. “And I tell you this, Mackenzie. If I had known that you were pregnant...if you had just trusted me enough to give me a chance, I never would’ve let you or Hope go through any of this stuff alone. I would have been there for you...both of you...every step of the way.”