by Sosie Frost
Glass still littered the kitchen floor. I knelt and swept it away. “Very unfortunate timing.”
“Rem.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Don’t.” Cassi blocked my path. “Don’t do that.”
I tossed a chunk of glass into the garbage. “Do what?”
“Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“It’s nothing.”
She offered me a roll of paper towels. I wished it were an olive branch.
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
“I told you—”
“You shut down, Rem. Every time. When something bad happens, when life gets a little complicated—you shut down. You’d rather run and hide and lie than confront what’s really wrong.” Cassi took my hand. “Don’t do it this time.”
And do what instead?
Confront this?
This wasn’t my battle to fight. I wasn’t the one on the front lines. Hell, I didn’t even know what was happening until I got the call in the middle of the night from a phone number in a town I swore I’d never see again.
Within a day, I’d traveled across the country, landed at my family’s old house, and had two little girls tossed in my arms. They didn’t even pack their shit. Just jammed their clothes and toys in garbage bags and pretended like that night wouldn’t scar them forever.
Mellie called from the kitchen, still sniffling. “I’m hungry.”
I tossed Cassi a box of Cheerios, and she delivered a bowl to Mellie, setting her in front of the TV. Both girls giggled with excitement, thrilled to be allowed to watch a movie so early in the morning.
“I gotta clean the kitchen, but we’ll have pancakes, I promise.” Cassi kissed the top of Mellie’s head. “Just watch Nemo for a bit, okay?”
“Kay.”
Mellie devoured her cereal, even tossing the occasional piece to her sister—or at her sister—as she giggled from her bouncer. The last of the debris tumbled into the garbage.
Now what?
And why didn’t I save a piece of glass for my wrists?
I leaned against the counter and rubbed my face.
“Should I get the whiskey or make a pot of coffee?” Cassi asked.
“Why not both?”
Neither was strong enough for this conversation. It wasn’t like the kids would understand, but I lowered my voice anyway. Looked away.
Shame was a lot easier to hide when I was three thousand miles away.
“Em’s not sick.” A lie was so much better than this truth. “She’s got problems.”
“CPS took the kids?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Why else? “Drugs. Em’s…gotten worse the past few months. Since Tabby was born. Had some complications. I guess the oxy helped too much. Easier than heroin…for a while at least. CPS called and said they needed someone to take the kids. Said they wanted to put them with a family member first. If I couldn’t take em…” I exhaled. “They would’ve gone to foster care.”
“That’s terrible.”
And nothing I’d ever put my nieces through. “I took a leave of absence, flew home, and grabbed the girls. You know the rest.”
“You never told anyone?”
“Why would I?” I laughed. “Everyone in Butterpond knows the Marshalls are fuckups. Last thing I need is to give anyone confirmation.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
I frowned. “No. I didn’t.”
“You lied to me.”
“It wasn’t my lie.” Like it made a difference. “What was I supposed to do? Tell you my sister’s such a hardcore junkie that she put the girls in danger?”
“You don’t think I’d understand?”
No. She wouldn’t have understood.
“Cas, I haven’t seen you for five years. You’re the only person in this whole damn town that matters to me. You know how rotten my family was—that’s why I stayed with yours for so long. Last thing I wanted was to come back, see you, and make you think nothing had changed.”
Because it hadn’t.
I couldn’t handle some spilled water without losing my temper. Couldn’t impress a lady from CPS. Couldn’t take the kids into town without my name overshadowing them.
Good thing they were so young yet. Once Mellie got older, once she understood what the whispers and the looks and the gossip meant, she’d follow the same path as me. Withdrawn. Bitter. Getting into trouble.
At least I had the option to run. They were innocent and stuck in this hell.
“Just…” I hated that I had to ask it. “Keep this to yourself, Sassy. Please.”
Her hand grazed my cheek. I brushed her away.
“No one is judging you, Rem,” she whispered.
“Everyone judges, Cas. And if they look close enough, they’re going to see a bastard who doesn’t deserve you.”
She planted her feet and gave me a smile.
“Well, guess what, Remington Marshall. I know who you are. I know your family, I know your past, and I know everything you’ve done. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Poor thing.
She sounded so sure of it too.
Like she believed it. Like she honestly thought the past could be forgotten and a future created right there in the middle of the kitchen over some pancakes and cartoons for the girls.
She didn’t know the full truth about that past. About everything I had done.
Some secrets were worth the isolation.
I’d lied five years ago and lost her once.
The truth would lose her forever.
14
Cassi
Nothing said family celebration like the threat of bloodshed.
Today’s menu: roast beef with a side of mashed potatoes, vegetable casserole, and a knuckle sandwich.
Rem parked the truck outside the farmhouse and grunted. “This is a shitty idea.”
Mellie agreed with a giggle. “Titty!”
“That’s…not what he said but it’s still a bad word.” I eyed them both. “Neither of you should say it.”
Tabby coo’ed with a wicked grin. “Sitty!”
Rem sighed. “Fantastic.”
“Don’t worry.” I squeezed his arm. “This is just what we need.”
Rem didn’t believe me. I didn’t either, not really. A dinner with my family wasn’t a pleasant occasion on the best of times—whatever those were anymore. But my brothers were still his best friends, despite whatever circumstances had pulled them apart. Maybe reconciliation was all they needed? Some food, wine, and laughter to rid Rem of whatever shame, torment, and secrets prevented him from looking towards the future.
A future with me.
One we should’ve started long ago.
“Really, Cas…” He kept his hand on the gearshift, like he’d actually toss the truck in reverse and speed back to his mountain. “This dinner is a private…family…thing.”
“It’s a dinner to honor my mom’s birthday,” I said. “And you loved my mom just as much as I did.”
“It’s not my place.”
“You were in our lives for twenty years. It’s only right you come too.”
His voice lowered. “At least you believe that.”
I took his hand. “I do. I’m not going to let you rot away all alone on that mountain anymore. What’s done is done. The past is behind us. It’s time you be a part of the world again. See what you’ve been missing.”
“I can guarantee they’re not missing me.”
“Doesn’t matter. All this self-exile and isolation isn’t good.”
“Neither is getting pummeled by your brothers.” He glanced at me. “Julian made his feelings on the matter pretty clear.”
“Well, Jules will have to deal. I want you here. And so does Tidus. And so would Mom. We’ve gotta work through this bad blood sometime.”
“I’d rather it not spill.”
“I promise. I won’t let my brothers get all brothery.”
Rem smirked.
“Oh. I see what this is. You want me here as a buffer between you and them.”
Busted. “You’re one hell of a distraction.”
“You owe me.”
I winked. “A hundred kisses, a dozen touches, and one very, very satisfying night.”
“Hope I survive.”
“The dinner or me?”
Rem snorted. “One and then the other.”
“Come on.” I hopped out of the truck and unfastened, unbuckled, and untangled the kids from their car seats. Rem unsuccessfully dodged Tabby’s thrown sippy cup. The first and, hopefully, only blow of the night. “At least the kids will have fun.”
Even that was optimistic.
I led Rem into the house…
And panicked.
Since I’d left to stay at the cabin, the house had transformed from uneasy borders to all-out trench warfare. Disputed territories in the den and dining room seemed a particular source of contention—marred with new cracks in the walls and broken furniture from what I presumed to be the fist-fights of thirty-year-old men. Even the fridge wasn’t immune. A wall of aluminum foil divided the shelves, separating out four individual gallons of milk, four cartons of eggs, four pizza boxes, and a variety of multicolored Tupperware containers with scribbled names staining the lids in permanent marker.
As far as I could tell, no one was speaking to each other, but the lights and water were still on. Bills were paid, even if my brothers were slowly tearing the house apart.
Tabby needed a quick diaper change, but one glance in the downstairs bathroom flashed me with memories of mucking out horse stalls. I was better off changing the baby in the middle of the floor than dealing with the mountain of dirty laundry Quint collected next to the tub.
I’d left the house to take care of the children. Good thing CPS hadn’t gotten involved when I’d abandoned the biggest babies of all—my brothers.
I helped myself to the living room floor, casting Tabby’s baby blanket over the bits of Cheeto dust and flecks of mud. No truce and no vacuuming. I should have imposed sanctions on my warring brothers. Unilateral peace talks, mandatory meal time, and Pledge for the wood and furniture.
“We’re here.” I called into the house. “Please tell me the smoke isn’t coming from the roast.”
Tidus jogged in from the kitchen. “Hey, Sassy—”
My tattooed, leather bound, bad boy brother took one look at the wriggling baby on the floor and diaper in my hand and crashed into the wall.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I smiled. “My job. This is Tabby.”
“I…hadn’t expected to meet that much of her.”
Mellie was fearless while denigrating her sister. She made a face. “She’s a baby. She wears diapers. You smell like Mommy.”
He did smell an awful lot like smoke, the bastard. “And that’s Mellie. She just busted you. What did I tell you about smoking?”
“Needed it for today.”
“You’ll need your lungs later.”
I buckled Tabby into a fresh diaper and tucked her into a pair of pink leggings. The diaper wasn’t the only thing mortifying Tidus. He stared at Rem, jaw set.
“Hey,” Rem said. “Been a while.”
Tidus groaned, reluctantly shaking his hand. Their matching tattoos practically melded into one.
“What the fuck are you doing here, man?”
Mellie and Tabby delighted in the one word they heard so often and were forbidden to repeat.
“Fuckfuckfuck!” Mellie curtseyed and spun in her princess dance. “Fuckyfuck.”
Tabby flailed her legs and stomped, bending down to pick up a lost Cheeto. “Fookfookfook.”
“Great.” I glared at Tidus. “I’m gonna beat your…bottom if you swear in front of the kids one more time.”
Tidus winked at Mellie. “Why don’t I teach you a new word? It starts with a B and ends with—”
“My fist in your mouth,” I snapped. “Stop it.”
“Gotta have some fun today.” Tidus eyed Rem. “God knows we’ll need it.”
“Hey, what’s burning?” Quint’s footsteps echoed from the hall. He peeked into the living room, bandana around his head, mismatched pot holders on his hands, bearing a casserole dish brimming with a marshmallow encrusted goo. He glanced over the room, grinned when he saw me, and just about shit as his eyes passed over Rem.
“You!”
The casserole dish teetered in his hands. Tipped. Fell.
Tidus dove for it, but the glass was still hot. He shouted as both of his palms bore the brunt of the casserole.
“Son of a—”
The dish clattered to the floor, and the kids learned a variety of unique and flavorful words they’d undoubtedly share the next time we met the lady from CPS.
Molten sweet potatoes splashed everywhere—carpets, drapes, over Quint. He batted at the superheated specks dotting his legs with a yell.
“Those were my sweet potatoes, you prick!”
Tabby burst into tears. Mellie, emboldened by the scent of toasted marshmallows and sugary sweetness leapt forward to investigate the mess.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “Gotta sing the cleanup song!”
“I didn’t knock over your damn bowl,” Tidus said. “What the hell are you doing with that in here?”
“I didn’t have room in the kitchen.” Quint swore. “You left your potato peels and bowls all over the counter, asshole.”
Mellie belted out her song. “Clean up! Everybody clean up!”
“So move them.”
Tidus accepted a rag from Rem, but the damage was done. Marshmallow coated his shoes, the carpet, and—he groaned—now hardened on the TV screen.
“Not my responsibility.” Quint grunted. “Great. Dinner’s ruined.”
“Time to clean up!”
“It’s only the sweet potatoes and whatever is burning in the oven,” I said. “I can help you make something else.”
Tidus snorted. “Open a can. Pour yams in bowl. Smother with sugar. Melt in the oven. Done.”
“Pick up. Everybody pick up!”
“What is he doing here?” Quint didn’t even look at Rem. “Why the hell would you bring him?”
Quint only had about two-and-a-half years on me. Young enough to miss most of the trouble Rem had caused. Didn’t hate him like Jules and Marius, but our family had a decent amount of loyalty, not matter how much they currently despised each other.
“I wanted to bring him,” I said.
“You clear it with Farmer Brown?”
“Who?”
“Pick up the toys. Put them away!”
Tidus snickered. “Jules.”
“I don’t have to clear it with anyone—least of all Jules.” At least, that’s what I’d told Rem. “Jules won’t care. Marius is still overseas, and I don’t think either of you are going to say a damn thing, isn’t that right?”
Quint still hadn’t looked at Rem. He sucked in a breath. “Whatever. Is that kid all right? The mess is like…distressing her or something.”
Mellie and Tabby danced, bumbling through the rest of the song. Rem smirked.
“She’s good,” he said. “Em’s kid.”
Quint frowned. “Think they’d be used to a mess then.”
Tidus seemed to understand more than he’d ever told me. “How’s Em?”
“Getting better,” Rem said.
I sucked in a breath. “Okay. Where’s Jules? Let’s get this over with.”
Quint jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Dad’s office. Buying equipment.”
With what money? Dad’s medical bills didn’t leave much in the farm’s budget for new equipment, buildings, animals, feed, and seeds. Julian couldn’t get a damn tomato to bud. How did he expect to grow money on the trees?
I guided the kids into the dining room. Mellie strode in first, happy as can be. With no hesitation, she plunked down in the chair right next to an amused Varius, picking at a loaf of his freshly made bread.
“Hi.”
Mellie grinned at him. “Wanna play?”
Tidus, Quint, and I tensed. For the past two years, Varius had withdrawn from everything—the family, the town, his congregation. Abandoning a life was hard. Abandoning a faith? That changed a man. Hardened a gentle soul.
Mellie still saw the old Varius. And maybe, for just a moment, in the smile he gave her, Varius had felt like himself too.
He glanced at Rem. “Come seeking forgiveness?”
“Only if you’ll give it, Preacher.”
“I’m not a minister anymore.”
Rem shrugged. “Got any forgiveness left?”
“Some.” Varius’s hair had grown longer, brushing over his jaw—more gaunt that chiseled anymore. The Payne family green eyes were lost on him now. Dark and sullen, he’d lost so much of the light that had once brightened his features. “I budget it out for special occasions.”
“Is today special?” I asked.
Varius motioned to the stoic figure in the doorway. “We’ll find out.”
Julian wasn’t pleased with our dinner guest, but was he ever happy anymore? Stress and responsibility and his never-ending quest to seek Dad’s approval from beyond the grave had taken its toll. He ended his phone call and shoved the cell in his pocket.
“What’s he doing here?” Jules grunted.
“Eating,” I said.
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
Rem kept his voice low. “That gonna be a problem?”
A tense moment of silence passed, broken only by Mellie as she crawled beneath the table to retrieve a dropped fork and spoon.
“Clean up! Everybody clean up!”
Tidus knew better than to let me and Jules stand-off. We might not have been blood, but we fought like we’d shared the same womb.
“Just dinner, Jules,” he said.
Jules was too handsome to frown. He did it anyway, and often. “This is our mom’s dinner.”
Varius still kept the peace even if a war waged in himself. “And Rem stayed here more than he ever stayed at his home.”
“What home?” Quint snorted. “It was as broken then as it is now.”
“Hey.” I stared each of my brothers down. “We gave everyone a home. Mom’s orders. No one goes hungry. No one goes cold. No one is alone. Ever. Our family is family to everyone. So what’s changed now?”
Jules got smart with me. “You really gotta ask that question?”