He huffed and puffed and my own chest wheezed. I hated that this is what he had been reduced to. My stubborn ass father would rather hang on to a rotten railing than lean on his own son. Coming home was going to be harder than even I envisaged, and I wasn’t naïve enough to have very high hopes.
When he batted away my steadying hands, I pulled open the screen door and stepped inside the only home I’d ever known…except it was a home I barely recognised. Everything in sight was blanketed by a thick layer of dust. The whole place smelt like burnt toast, and as I moved through the house, I wasn’t surprised to see the dirt and grass covering the floor. I wish I was, but nothing about this scene shocked me.
Stepping into the kitchen, I wanted to gag. This wasn’t the home I grew up in. I couldn’t even see that home. The one where I sat perched on the kitchen bench licking the wooden spoon while Mum mixed up chocolate chip and raisin cookie batter. The kitchen where there was always a vase of fresh flowers in the corner. The kitchen where the yellow lacy curtains danced on the breeze.
Ignoring the sink full of dirty dishes, I grabbed a bottle of water from the near empty fridge and headed back out to where I’d left Dad wheezing. “Drink this.”
“Don’t.” Cough, cough. “Tell.” Cough. Splutter. “Me.” Gasp. Cough. “What.” Cough. “To do.”
“For fuck’s sake, Dad. Drink the damn water. You can bitch at me later, but for now, just drink it.”
I thought I’d stored up more patience than this, yet I wasn’t surprised it had already run out. Even before I’d moved away, Dad had this uncanny ability to push me to my limits.
While he gave me the evil eye over the top of the bottle, I dug through my pocket and found my phone shooting a less than polite text to Connor. He wanted me home, then he could drag his sorry ass out of whoever’s bed he was in and get out here. I was owed an explanation and I wasn’t in the mood to wait.
I watched as water dribbled down Dad’s chin and splattered his singlet. When I was a kid, Dad was my hero. He worked hard, often gone before the dawn, but he always made it home in time for dinner. God, I remembered it like it was yesterday. His beat up old ute would bounce down the driveway and grind to a halt. He’d stomp inside, kick off his muddy boots, and head straight for Mum. More often than not she would be in the kitchen dishing up mountains of food ready to feed the tribe. Dad would walk directly up to her before tipping her backwards and planting a loud, smacking kiss on her lips to our chorus of ‘ews’ and groans. Dad never figured out girl germs. We’d be sitting there at the battered wooden table with our mouths watering as we eyed off the plates filled high. Mum was a fantastic cook. She was the reason none of us were in a hurry to leave home. Once dinner was demolished, we’d gather in the lounge room while Mum read quietly in the corner. Dad ended up most nights on his hands and knees wrestling with us. Well, up until Holly decided she could play. I’ll never know why each and every night she got down in amongst the fray. Every single night without fail, she’d end up with tears streaming down her face curled up in Mum’s lap.
Even if I wanted to forget it, there’s no way I ever could. Each night, while Holly sobbed in Mum’s arms, Dad would look at the four of us and remind us, “Holly is the most precious thing in your world, boys. It’s your job to protect her. Always.”
I hated that Holly was such a cry baby. I hated that Dad was putting all that responsibility on me. She was just a girl. A pain in the ass. Someone who got in our way and ruined our fun. She dobbed on us when she didn’t get her way and caused most of the arguments. But as I got older, I understood what he was saying. While she may have been the pain in my ass, Dad was right. Holly was precious, and I knew I, just like my brothers, would do anything to protect her. Always.
Dad coughed again, and for the first time I saw the man he’d become. He’d not only aged, but somewhere along the line he’d also become bitter. I didn’t know what the hell had been going on around here lately, but I was sure as shit going to find out.
“Come on, Dad. Sit down.” I grabbed his arm and half dragged his stubborn ass across the uneven boards and dropped him into the creaky wicker chair.
For a few moments I sat silently watching as Dad sucked in short, shallow breaths. The vibration in my pocket alerted me to the incoming message, and when I checked it, I couldn’t help but sigh heavily. Connor was on his way. As far as I was concerned, the sooner he got here, the better.
Sinking onto the steps, I breathed in the scent of the country. After spending years in Sydney, this was something else. The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was. There were no sirens, no music blaring, no people arguing, not even any traffic. Other than the early morning birds and Dad’s raspy breathing, it was eerily silent. Comforting even.
I dropped my head in my hands and willed away the migraine settling behind my eyes. This was already proving to be a long ass day, and I had the feeling it was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better.
“What are you doing here, Beau?” Dad asked, breaking the silence.
“I asked him to come home.”
I had no idea where he’d come from, but fuck was I glad he was here. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed Connor and hugged him tightly. Pulling back, I saw Connor for the first time in years. He wasn’t the kid I remembered. I’m not sure what I expected, but he’d grown up. He needed a haircut, and I sure as shit would give him a hard time about that later. That and many, many other things.
“Why?” Dad snapped gruffly.
I heard my knuckles crack in my pocket as I did everything I could to control my bubbling temper.
“Fuck, Dad! I need help. I can’t keep doing this bullshit on my own. You’re no fucking help.”
“Watch your mouth!” Dad warned, but Connor didn’t back down.
This wasn’t the brother I remembered. If anything, he sounded more like me than Connor. He hated confrontation, and he’d never think of back chatting Dad. Hell, he’d been there the one and only time I’d done it, resulting in Dad’s belt going straight across my backside.
“Or what? You afraid the truth’s gonna come out. Well, guess what? It is. I’m tired of this shit, and it’s time Beau knew exactly what was what.”
“Connor?”
I was afraid, and I hated it. It wasn’t something I was used to, and it definitely wasn’t something I was comfortable with. The feeling of dread washed over me.
“Let’s get Dad inside, then you can come and help me.”
“Help you?”
“Yeah, pretty boy. You’re not in the city now. Chores don’t wait for anyone around here.”
“Okay.”
Staying out of the way, I watched as Connor helped a very reluctant Dad from the chair and led him inside. I could hear their arguing through the door but I didn’t follow. I couldn’t. I felt like I was standing in quicksand and sinking quickly.
A moment later, Connor appeared. “Come on, Beau. Let’s grab some coffee and I’ll catch you up.”
“I have a feeling I’m going need something a lot stronger than coffee.”
“You could be right.” He chuckled as he clamped down on my shoulder.
I followed him across the overgrown backyard, passed the empty chicken coop, ducking the towels that flapped on the line. Everything about it made me sad. This was my home, but in so many ways it wasn’t. It was barely recognisable. Connor kicked open the once wire gate and like a puppy, I followed.
After crossing the dirt driveway, we entered the shed, and I was shocked to see how clean it was. Everything was all put away in its place. There were no cobwebs gracing the archways. No chunks of dried mud on the floor. Connor moved towards the back and pulled open a door, gesturing for me to enter.
When I stepped through the doorway I couldn’t believe my eyes. Last time I’d been in the shed, this area was Dad’s office, filled with piles of junk, papers, and empty soft drink cans. Now though, it appeared as though Connor had made it his home.
Along the wall was a dark
stained timber cabinet holding up a large plasma screen. A huge bed, covered in a navy comforter, filled the room, while a pile of books and a lamp took up all the space on the tiny the bedside table. Walking through the bedroom, I found the kitchenette, and even it had been cleaned up. Where once had stood a stainless steel sink on a metal frame, now there were cabinets and a cook top.
“What’dya think?”
“When did this happen?”
“Couple of years ago. Couldn’t stay in the house anymore. It’s not much, you know, but it works.”
“I’ll say.”
Connor handed me a mug and led me back outside. Leaning on the fence, I tilted my head towards the sun and let it warm me. I heard myself sigh heavily. I wasn’t ready for this. Nothing would prepare me. Nothing could. I had to do it. Now. Before I chickened out.
“What the hell happened around here? And where’s Mum?”
“Mum?”
“Yeah, you know. That short woman. Curly hair. The one who gave birth to us.” Seriously. Who the fuck did he think I meant when I said Mum?
“Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“She left.”
“What! When?”
“Couple of months now. Packed her shit and drove away. Didn’t even look back.”
Suddenly, I was consumed by fury. Emptying the rest of the bitter coffee onto the ground, I turned to Connor. “How the fuck didn’t I know about this?”
“Dad didn’t want us to tell you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Beau, calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down? Fuck you, Connor. You summon me home. Drag me from a life I was actually enjoying to this…this hell. It looks like it’s falling apart. And Mum’s gone. She’s been gone. For months. And all you can say is calm down.”
He shrugged.
The asshole shrugged.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why’d she leave?”
Although I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know the answer, I found myself unable to resist asking.
Connor took his sweet ass time in answering, which only sent my blood pressure through the roof. He wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t meet my eye. No matter what he said next, it was going to suck.
“Well? I’m waiting, Connor.”
“Shit, Beau.”
“Just spit it out.” What little patience I had was long gone. I was barely clinging to reason right now.
“Money. She left because we’re broke.”
I may have discovered a hairbrush and tucked my underwear back in my jeans, but my humiliation hadn’t faded. I doubted it ever would. The moment he’d left I’d scampered up the steps and changed my underwear, stuffing the granny panties in the bottom of the trash. Tonight, I’d take stock of my underwear drawer, throwing out anything and everything that resembled something my mother would wear. Or worse, my grandmother.
“So, how goes it, Payton?” Josie asked as she sipped her tea at the counter.
“You know how it is. I’m exhausted and have no idea what I’m doing. But hey, I can still make a mean scone.”
As if to prove my point, I placed the last of the fluffy scones I’d just finished on the tray and slid it into the glass counter. They smelt divine, and as much as I wanted to load one up with homemade strawberry jam—my grandmother’s recipe—and a huge dollop of thick cream, I could feel my ass growing. I needed to stop testing everything I made, no matter how much my mouth watered and my stomach grumbled.
“Earth to Payton?” Josie waved her hand in my face and I blinked hard a few times before refocusing.
“Sorry.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere?”
“I think you just got caught up day dreaming about your favourite new customer.”
“New customers? It’s just you and me in here.”
“Are you really this dense or just pretending?”
“Are you really this much of a bitch or just pretending to be?” I replied jokingly. Mostly.
“Nah, I’m naturally this loveable.”
“My god! No one thinks that?”
“Nate does. He loves me.”
“He’s crazy.”
“Probably. But for some reason he loves me anyway.”
I hated that suddenly jealousy tore through my body. I wanted what Josie and Nate had. Someone to love my crazy. Someone to love me on a Sunday morning when I woke up cranky and tired, looking like I’d been in a fight with a demon. It was a dream I’d had since I was a little girl. Yep, I was that pathetic. I had been one of those girls who, over my tea party, I dreamt up the life I was going to have when I grew up. It never occurred to me that it wouldn’t turn out the way I wanted. Then again, I guess no one ever does.
“He’s an idiot then.”
“Yeah, he kinda is. He’s my idiot, though.”
“So, if we’re not going to talk about Mr. Sex on Legs, let’s talk bachelorette party.”
“Ugh!” I groaned. A bachelorette party was the last thing I wanted to think about. I didn’t think Mia was the sort of girl who’d want one, but Josie, Josie on the other hand…she was exactly the bachelorette type of girl. God help us when she was in charge. I was going to need more coffee.
After refilling my mug, I grabbed the notepad and pen from beside the register and collapsed in a booth. Josie, true to form, acted like she owned the place. After snagging herself another scone from the cabinet, she followed me over. I watched on, envious as she broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth.
“So, I’m thinking cocktails, leis, and a stripper.”
“A stripper? Really, Jo?”
“Yeah. It’s Mia. She deserves a stripper.”
“Yeah, but does she want one?”
“Hell no! And you’re not asking her either. This is a surprise. Got it?”
“Fine,” I gritted out between my teeth. “But when this blows up and Mia wants to beat both our asses, I have no issues at all using you as a human shield.”
“Noted. Now that’s sorted, let’s get down to details.”
For the next hour and a half Josie and I sat there and planned out what was turning out to be the most elaborate bachelorette party in history. I had no idea how we were going to pull this off, let alone where we were supposed to get all of the crap Josie wanted to use.
A couple of times I’d gotten up and served customers, but it was a slow day. Truth be told, it had been a slow month. It was starting to eat away at me. If it wasn’t for Mia’s wedding cake, I’d give serious consideration to giving up…something I hated more than anything. Giving up. Failing. No matter how many times I did it, no matter how many times I screwed up, it didn’t make it any easier. Nothing did. Nothing ever would. It would always suck. Maybe it was just something I had to get used to. The thought alone made me want to gag.
We finished up and Josie helped me clear the dirty plates. “So, I was wondering…”
“Here we go…”
“What?”
“Come on, Jo. Ask for the favour we both know is coming.”
“Bitch! Anyway, what I was going to ask is if you’d be able to make Matilda’s birthday cake for me?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You didn’t expect me to be able to bake, did you? ’Cause if you did, you’re freaking delusional.”
“I can do that. What do you want?”
“I don’t know. Something fit for a princess?”
“Princess?”
“Fucking Nate!” Josie snarled before launching into a ten-minute tirade about how Nate turned one of the bedrooms into a pink princess’s castle, complete with bunk beds and a fluffy green dragon hiding underneath the bunk. Then Josie admitted she was rendered speechless and powerless when Nate promised she could stay there forever. It was her room and no one else’s.
“So, you’re living there now?”
Fuck me, that was a shock! I knew they were hot and heavy, but after all the con
versations I’d had with her, I knew how important maintaining her independence was. From the moment I met her, Josie came across as though she had one huge chip on her shoulder. She had something to prove. It was like she had to do everything on her own, just to prove she could.
“Shithead didn’t give me much of a choice.”
She sounded pissed. She looked pissed, with her hands on her waist and her hip cocked to the side. But she was also full of shit. She was protesting too much. Too hard. It was damn funny.
“He bribed Matilda with a pink bedroom, then he and Derek, that sneaky traitor, packed up our stuff and moved us in while I was at work. They were all in on it. My whole fucking family conspired against me.”
Without warning, I reached out and grabbed Josie’s left wrist.
“What?”
“Just checking.”
“For what?”
“Your engagement ring.”
“Fuck you, Payton. Not happening.”
“Oh, it will, Josie. That boy’s fallen hard and fallen fast. I reckon by this time next year it’ll be your bachelorette party were planning.”
“Fuck off.”
Ooh. I’d touched a nerve. And found a new favourite past time. Riling up Josie was fun. She bit so well.
“Just answer me one thing.”
“What?”
“Do you want a stripper?” I barely got the words out before the laughter bubbling up in my chest consumed me.
She tossed the dishtowel she was holding at my head before flicking me the bird and heading out the door, leaving my head spinning. A huge part of me wanted to stomp my exhausted, cranky ass up the stairs, flop back into bed, and start the day all over again. If I thought that would help, I would have seriously considered it.
I ignored the pounding in the back of my head and the flutter in the pit of my stomach every time the image of the man with the most hypnotising slate grey eyes I’d ever seen popped into my head. I’d never seen him before and I had no reason to believe I ever would again, but I couldn’t deny I wanted to. I didn’t even know his name. Sure, it wouldn’t be hard to find out. If he’d grown up around here, someone would know…they always did, I just didn’t want to ask. It was a curse of living in a small town. Newcomers were gossip. I’d been here six months and I was still newsworthy.
Taking Charge (Meet the McIntyres Book 1) Page 3