Mitch chased us all the way down the street before finally giving up. When we eventually risked returning, we found he’d locked us out of the house. We sat side by side on the front stoop waiting until Jenna returned home from work.
“We sat on that damn stoop for over two hours as the sun set,” Mac says, pulling me from the memory, “wet and getting colder by minute.”
“I remember,” I mutter gruffly.
“I jostled your shoulder and you looked at me. The colours of the setting sun were bright in your eyes, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You laughed at me and I realised I was staring. Then I told you that I’d never had so much fun or felt so free as I did when I was with you. That you were my best friend.”
The lump in my throat is huge. “And I said that you were my best friend too. The only real friend I ever had.”
Mac’s head tilts back. She’s desperately blinking back tears. When she has them under control, her eyes return to mine. “I want to go back to that. I love you, Jake, but I need time. Time to be your friend again like we used to be. Can you give me that?”
She’s right. There have been too many secrets. Too many lies. Betrayal. And so much hurt that we both need time to mend the wounds. As much as I want to be with her, we can’t force the healing process.
“Okay,” I croak and hold out my hand. “Friends?”
The front door flies open as she’s taking my hand in hers. “Friends.”
We shake on it.
“Holy shit!” Cooper announces from behind Mac. He’s staring at us, at our joined hands, and then back at us. Frog steps in beside him.
Both of them take in the scene before them, which includes smashed glass, splintered furniture, and the contents of Mac’s handbag strewn about the kitchen.
“Holy shit!” Frog exclaims.
I let go of Mac’s hand. The smooth warmth of her palm slowly slides away from mine as we ignore our friends. My lips curve because for some reason it feels good. Like we’ve been through a wild cyclone and were standing in the aftermath. Survivors. Mac’s lips curve in response.
“Has Armageddon arrived?” Cooper bleats as he walks further inside, hands on his hips as he inspects the damage.
“I don’t know,” Frog replies, “but I feel all wrong. Like I stepped inside an alternate universe in some kind of monumental cosmic accident.” He actually steps back outside and looks to the sky, eyes searching.
“What?” Cooper says. He walks out to stand beside Frog and looks up.
“I’m checking for a tear in the fabric of time.”
Cooper scratches his head. “Isn’t that for time travel? I thought a parallel universe was like radio waves or something.”
Mac clears her throat. “I’m going to go visit Evie at the hospital.”
“Alright.” My gaze sweeps over the evidence of my tantrum. “I guess I’ll clean this up.”
MAC
To say our family dinner the following Sunday is a cold affair is to say water is a little bit wet. It’s as if a blizzard has blown through, leaving a layer of frost on everything it touched, including me.
“Can you pass the salt?” Mitch asks from my right.
Ordinarily, their bullshit puts me in a rage and that saltshaker will find itself pegged at his head. Instead, I pick it up in silence and set it to my right, looking at no one.
I can’t bring myself to talk to any of my brothers, let alone look at them. My trust in their honesty has been destroyed, levelled to rubble like a building in an earthquake.
“Mac, honey, are you okay?” Mum asks from across the table.
My eyes flick up from the food I’m pushing around on my plate. “Never better.”
The flat response doesn’t appease the concern in her eyes. She tilts her head. “How’s Jake?”
“He’s good.”
“And Cooper? Frog?”
“They’re all good, Mum.”
“Well then.” She smiles with false pleasantness, trying to lift the dark mood that has settled in around the table. “I saw Evie today.” Her gaze shifts to Jared seated beside her, lines forming on her forehead. “She told me—”
Jared clears his throat loudly, and she stops talking. “That I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says in a pre-emptive strike. I already know. Evie was a broken-hearted mess thanks to my douchebag brother. He’s leaving because of what happened. Jared blames himself for her getting shot. His ludicrous solution is to remove himself from the equation, leaving Evie safe from danger. I can’t even begin to list all the things wrong with his plan. It’s evidence of his assumption that he’s doing what he thinks best for her. Meaning he hasn’t changed a bit. “For work,” he clarifies.
“Don’t you mean running away?” I mutter snidely under my breath.
Dad’s brows pull together. “For how long?”
“A few months, maybe.”
“Good riddance,” I mutter again.
Mitch gives a saddened sigh. He heard me.
“I’m taking Casey’s place overseas for the training workshops.”
Mitch turns his head toward me. He speaks softly, not wanting to be heard above the conversation taking place around the table. “Mac, can we talk? Outside?”
“No.”
“Please?”
Of all my brothers, Mitch is the most considerate. The wisest. His moral compass is so strong a hurricane can’t blow it off course. It makes his inclusion in the betrayal all the worse. “No.”
His voice comes out as a low growl. I’m trying his patience, which is not an easy feat. “Now, Mackenzie Valentine, you’ll hear what I have to say.”
“I couldn’t give two shits about what you have to say.”
He ignores my snide tone and reaches across the table in front of me for the pepper grinder. His arm bumps my glass of wine. It tips toward me, making a loud clink as it hits my plate. Conversation halts as merlot spews out in a giant arc, dousing my face and chest.
My hands fly up, a loud gasp leaving my mouth as I look down at my pretty lemon dress. It’s a Collette Dinnigan. An absolute classic. A treasured masterpiece of fabric that makes my tired skin glow, my legs appear longer, and cheers me up better than a block of chocolate.
“I’m sorry,” Mitch says, abandoning his quest for the pepper as he takes in the disaster he created. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
If I were ever going to do tears, now would be the time. “This one isn’t in her collection anymore.”
“Then I’ll buy you a hundred new ones.”
Mum comes racing toward me with paper towel. “A hundred?” I echo.
“Sweetheart,” Mum mutters at Mitch as she blots at the mess. “You can’t buy a hundred new ones. This is a Collette Dinnigan.”
His face remains blank. “So?”
“So you may as well just buy me a Ferrari instead,” I snap. “I’ll take one in red, thanks.”
“Maybe I’ll just replace the one dress,” he mumbles.
“Honey, quickly go upstairs to your old room and get this off,” Mum instructs as she steps back to survey the damage. “We’ll get the stains right out, I promise.”
I do as she suggests. I’m just sliding on a pair of old sweatpants when Mitch appears in the doorway. He leans against the frame and folds his arms.
My eyes narrow. “You ruined my dress on purpose.”