My Heart to Keep: A Maxwell Family Saga - Book Four

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My Heart to Keep: A Maxwell Family Saga - Book Four Page 3

by Alexander, S. B.


  I hated to think how much trouble Quinn was going to be in with her parents. I was sure Mr. Thompson, who was quite scary, would ground her for the rest of the year.

  Mrs. Thompson pinned me with a stern expression. “Maiken, have you been drinking too?”

  Quinn puked again.

  “No, ma’am.” After seeing what liquor had done to Marcus, I wasn’t rushing out to try the stuff. Actually, Dad had let me taste a few sips of his beer once, and I didn’t see what the fuss was all about.

  “I’ll take care of Quinn. Go help Jeff and my boys.”

  I regarded my girlfriend, who had her back to me. “Quinn?” I didn’t want to leave her. Then again, I couldn’t do much anyway.

  “Do what my mom says.” Quinn’s tone was rough and scratchy.

  Mrs. Thompson flicked her head, her brown hair falling out of her bun. “She’ll be fine.”

  I doubted she would, at least not for a while. Nevertheless, I plowed through the kids who were lingering outside the barn. The paramedics were lifting Celia onto a stretcher. Liam was close by, biting his nails. I’d learned earlier that he and Celia had broken up, but from the panic in his eyes, he still cared for her.

  Ethan was standing next to Marcus, who had his arm around Sloane. I guessed she’d won Marcus’s attention since I didn’t see Holly anywhere.

  I had the urge to give Sloane a piece of my mind, but it wouldn’t do any good. Sloane and Marcus were on a different planet than the rest of us. They walked to a beat of their own, and frankly, I was tired of trying to get through to my brother.

  Marcus said something in Sloane’s ear. Then the two slipped through the crowd and made their way out.

  Ethan came up to me. “That went well. You want to stop him from leaving?”

  “Nope. Let him do whatever it is he’s going to do.” Marcus was the least of my worries. I tossed a look over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see Quinn from where I was standing just inside the barn. I didn’t even see her walking up to the house.

  “You say that all the time but then get in his face.”

  A group of kids were lingering and watching as Mr. Thompson talked to the paramedics.

  “He didn’t start the fight.” My girl kind of had, which was mind-blowing. Then again, she was under the influence of alcohol. If she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have outright punched Sloane.

  What is it about drinking? I didn’t get the eagerness to try beer or vodka or whatever. Still, my senior year wasn’t going to revolve around babysitting Marcus. I’d done that last year, and the aftereffects had landed me in the hospital. I wasn’t repeating that again. As much as I loved Quinn, I wasn’t her babysitter either.

  My senior year would be focused on basketball, scouts, college scholarships, and spending as much time with Quinn as I could before we both went our separate ways next year. At least I expected we would go to different colleges since her plan was medical school and mine was basketball.

  The paramedics carried Celia away with Liam following closely.

  Mr. Thompson ran a hand through his brown hair, appearing angry, tired, and ready to yell at someone.

  Carter, who I just noticed standing not far from his dad, narrowed his gaze on me before stalking over.

  Here we go.

  Carter wagged his finger. “This is your fault.”

  Ethan slid his hand in between Carter and me. “Back off, dude. My brother had nothing to do with any of this.”

  Carter ignored Ethan as though he weren’t standing next to me. “You got my sister drunk so you could take advantage of her. She was with you around the barn earlier. Wasn’t she?”

  I put a hand on my brother’s arm. “Ethan, I can handle Carter.”

  Ethan lowered his hand but didn’t leave.

  I inched closer to Carter. “I don’t control your sister’s actions.” Then I blew in his face. “Do you smell alcohol on me? No. So fuck off.” The last thing I wanted to do was fight him or cause any more trouble. But I wasn’t about to let him pin any of the evening’s events on me.

  Carter’s nostrils flared. “If I find out you had anything to do with this, I will end you once and for all.”

  I stuck out my chin. “Dude, go back to college. Stay out of our business.” Then I sauntered away, not giving him a second look. “Ethan, let’s go to the hospital.” Carter hated me, but Liam didn’t, and since he and I were good friends, I wanted to support him.

  Ethan brushed his shoulder against Carter’s as he passed by.

  Carter caught his arm. “You Maxwells are all alike. You think your shit doesn’t stink. You think you own this town. Your cousins were the same way.”

  Ethan stood toe to toe with Carter, almost eye to eye. “You sound jealous, dude. And next time you feel the need to threaten my brother, think twice. Because you’ll have more than one of us to deal with.”

  Carter plastered on an evil grin. “Bring it, dude.”

  I gripped Ethan’s shoulder. “Not here, man. People are watching too.”

  Quinn ran down the path from the house.

  Her mother stood on the deck with her hands on her hips. “Quinn,” she shouted.

  Carter pushed Ethan’s shoulder as he rushed to block Quinn. “Mom is calling you.”

  Quinn shoved him out of the way, or she tried. “I want to see Celia. I’m going with her to the hospital.”

  The lights of the ambulance were fading as they left the farm.

  Carter gripped her arms. “Liam is going with her. Go up to the house and get cleaned up. You look a mess.”

  Quinn glared at her older brother. “Fuck you.”

  I felt like I was in an alternate universe, not exactly sure who Quinn was right now. I knew what alcohol did to a person. Hell, Marcus had given us a front-row seat to his drunken behavior a few times already, and I didn’t like the drunk Quinn. If her idea of letting loose was to take up drinking or anything else, like drugs, then our relationship was in jeopardy.

  “We need to get out of here.” Ethan’s voice broke through my trance.

  I kicked my legs into gear alongside Ethan, and we headed up to the lot by the farm store.

  “Maiken,” Mr. Thompson called.

  I briefly closed my eyes. If I ignored him, he would tear into me, and the last thing I wanted to do was make my girlfriend’s dad madder than he already was. Not only that, I respected my elders.

  I pivoted on my heel, coming face-to-face with a Carter lookalike.

  Mr. Thompson’s signature scowl was ever present. That glower had terrified me many times when I’d first met him. “Have you been drinking? Is that why my daughter is drunk?”

  I swallowed my own anger, which was primed to lash out. Why does everyone think I forced Quinn to drink? Then again, like father, like son.

  “No, sir,” I said in a polite tone, even though it was difficult not to shout at him.

  He glared, studying me.

  “Sir, we haven’t been drinking,” Ethan said at my side.

  Quinn cried nearby. “I hate you,” she said to Carter, or maybe she was talking to her mom.

  The wrinkles around Mr. Thompson’s eyes relaxed. “Go home.”

  Ethan and I didn’t waste any time in getting the hell out of there.

  Quinn was in a world of shit, and I doubted I would see her any time soon.

  “Maiken,” Mr. Thompson said. “You’re not allowed to see my daughter until further notice.”

  Well, there went my goal of spending time with my girl, which probably wouldn’t matter anyway, at least not for the next four weeks. I was off to basketball camp for most of the summer. Maybe when I got back, this night would be a distant memory, and Quinn and I could pick up where we’d left off.

  Yet somehow, I didn’t think things between us would ever be normal again.

  I trudged up to the house, stomping my feet as I passed Momma. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d acted like I was five years old when I didn’t get my way.

  “Quinn, get cle
aned up. Your father and I will be in to talk to you shortly,” Momma tossed out over her shoulder.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as the blood on my lip began to dry. I should be scared about what punishment Momma and Daddy would dole out, but I didn’t care. I cared about Celia. She wasn’t conscious, and I needed to see her.

  I stopped at the sliding glass door. “Mom, I want to see Celia.”

  “No!” Her tone was frightening, and it had been years since she snapped at me. “You’ll be lucky if you leave this house for the next six months.”

  I dashed away tears, opened the door, and trudged inside as my heart splintered and shattered. It was all my fault that Celia had gotten hurt.

  Damn Sloane and Marcus. I blamed Marcus more. I knew I shouldn’t have let him come to the party.

  I sobbed as I climbed the stairs.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  My head pounded as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, and my stomach swirled like an out-of-control tornado.

  I rushed into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet. After emptying my stomach again, I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped my mouth. Then I went over to the mirror and gasped. My upper lip was swollen. My hair stuck out in every direction. My skin was as white as snow, and my eyes were bloodshot. Plus, my mouth was dry and parched.

  I splashed water on my face, hoping it would clear my senses or at least get the color to return. After drying off, I fumbled for my phone in the back pocket of my shorts. Then I called Liam.

  The phone rang until his voice mail picked up. “Liam, please call me. I need to know that Celia’s okay.”

  I sighed and then broke down in more tears. Maybe Maiken was on his way to the hospital. I called him, but his voice mail answered too.

  “Hey, can you call me?”

  I slumped against the sink when my phone pinged.

  Maiken: We’ll talk tomorrow.

  My mind spun. What the heck did he mean we would talk tomorrow?

  Me: I want to talk now. Are you going to the hospital?

  Maiken: Liam called me and told me not to.

  Me: Please go. I have to make sure Celia’s okay.

  Maiken: Liam will give us an update.

  Me: I’m sorry about tonight.

  He had to think I was a freak. He hated when Marcus drank, and now his girlfriend was falling into the same dark hole as his brother.

  Maiken: Get some rest.

  Me: I’m sure I’m grounded.

  Maiken: Yep.

  Me: I’ll come over tomorrow when I take Apple for a ride.

  Maiken: I won’t be around.

  Me: Where are you going?

  My heart plummeted. Surely one mishap on my part wasn’t cause for not seeing me.

  Maiken: My mom is taking me shopping.

  I sighed.

  Me: Call me afterwards, then?

  Maiken: Sure.

  Me: I love you.

  I fixated on the bright screen, waiting for a response, but none came.

  Me: Are you still there?

  My heart punched my ribs like I’d punched Sloane, and it hurt.

  After a few minutes with no response, I called Maiken again. The line rang and rang and rang until his voice mail connected.

  I hiccupped and hung up. I was too much of a hot mess to leave a message. He hated me. I was sure of it.

  I checked my text messages again, but there was still no response. I tried one more time to get him on the phone. Again, he didn’t answer.

  Tears poured out of my bloodshot eyes. I’d ruined everything, including my party and my chances of having any more parties. I might have lost my boyfriend, and my BFF had been rushed to the hospital.

  Sobbing, I slid down the counter until my butt was on the floor. Then I brought my knees to my chest and buried my head in my hands.

  Footsteps pounded outside the bathroom door. “Quinn,” Carter said before he knocked.

  “Go away,” I cried.

  “Dad wants you downstairs in ten minutes.” Carter’s tone made me shiver. He had a lot of the same qualities as our dad—deep voice, commanding presence, and strict in his morals when it came to what girls should and should not do. However, the one difference was that Carter didn’t give an inch. At least I could reason with Daddy. With Carter, there was no reasoning. I pitied his future daughters.

  Regardless, I didn’t think any amount of reasoning with Daddy was going to work that night.

  Take your licks and keep your mouth shut. Daddy might be lenient.

  I would like to believe the voice in my head, but I knew I was in a world of shit.

  I hardly had time for a shower, but I couldn’t go downstairs looking like I’d been dragged through pig shit and mud. So I jumped in the shower and rinsed off, although no amount of water would wash away what I’d done. Fifteen minutes later, I wound my way downstairs.

  Momma’s voice trickled out of the kitchen. “Call when you have news. Oh, and Liam, give my best to her mom.”

  I padded lightly down the hall until I was standing in the arched doorway between the kitchen and family room.

  Daddy was sitting at our picnic-style table, drinking from a coffee cup. “How’s Celia?”

  I slid off to the side so he wouldn’t see me.

  “Not good,” Momma said.

  I covered my mouth with my hand to stop the sob that was about to come barreling out.

  “Liam will keep us posted.” Momma’s voice was filled with sadness.

  “Quinn, I know you’re listening. Get in here now!” Daddy’s voice boomed.

  I shivered as if I were standing naked outside in the dead of winter. I took one tiny step at a time and inched into the brightly lit kitchen. It blinded me, yet darkness encroached from all sides as I settled near the fridge, away from Daddy.

  His brown gaze was soaking in fury. The wrinkles on his forehead were deep, and his nostrils were opening and closing like he was struggling for air.

  I swallowed a lump of coal as I regarded Momma. Her lips were pursed, her features tight, and her gaze as hard as stone.

  The silence was maddening, and the longer neither of them said anything, the more my insides spun. I didn’t think I had anything else to throw up, but my stomach was telling me otherwise.

  I flipped my wet hair over my shoulder for nothing else than to expel some nerves.

  Daddy finally spoke. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  The last time I had done anything to warrant Daddy’s wrath had been in the eighth grade. He’d warned me not to go near a new horse we’d had at the time.

  “I need to break him before you ride him,” Daddy had said. “It’s dangerous. Do you understand?”

  “But I can break him,” I’d returned.

  “Absolutely not. He’ll kill you.”

  I hadn’t listened to him. I’d wanted to show him I could break in the horse. However, the minute I took the horse out of the stall, he’d gotten spooked at a loud noise in the barn. I’d ended up with bruised ribs and an ego to match. Daddy had been irritated and scared that day, not glaringly furious.

  “I’m waiting, young lady.”

  Momma watched, her expression unwavering.

  I locked my trembling fingers together in front of me. “I’m sorry.” That was all I could say. I had no other words.

  “Where did you get the liquor?” Momma asked.

  I bit my lip. “Some boy.”

  “Name.” Daddy’s tone was hard and scary.

  I couldn’t throw Jack under the bus. “A lot of kids had liquor. I don’t remember.”

  Daddy let out a long breath as if trying to control his temper. “Someone told me that you threw the first punch. Is that true?”

  Slowly, I nodded as I stared at my orange-painted toenails. It was useless to rehash what had happened. The damage was done. Someone had gotten hurt. I’d started the fight. I’d gotten tipsy. I’d ruined my party. It was no one’s fault but mine.

  I inhaled de
eply. “Just tell me my punishment.”

  Daddy slapped a hand down on the table. The sound exploded as if a bomb had gone off. “Don’t take that tone with me. Let’s go back to last year when you and I had a conversation outside church the day after the party where the Maxwell boy was passed out drunk and bleeding. Do you remember what you told me?”

  It was hard to forget Sloane’s party. Maiken had had to carry a drunken Marcus out. But as I dipped back to that Sunday, my heart stopped.

  “I don’t want you going to anymore parties,” Daddy said.

  “Why?

  “Quinn, parties only attract trouble. I don’t want to see you get caught up with the wrong crowd either.”

  “You can’t shelter me forever, Daddy.”

  “I’m doing this for your own good.”

  Daddy cleared his throat. “What did you tell me that day? I want to hear you say it.”

  I blinked. “I told you to trust me. I said I wouldn’t drink or try drugs.”

  “What else?” He didn’t forget a thing.

  “You and Mom taught me responsibility.”

  Momma was sipping her coffee, resting against the counter, and watching me like a hawk. “Where was your responsibility tonight?”

  I swallowed hard. I’d promised both of them I would never drink or do drugs.

  “We allowed you to have this party because we trusted you, Quinn,” Momma said. “We also told you to limit the party to fifty. There were close to a hundred kids in that barn.”

  Again, I couldn’t give her an excuse or tell her truthfully how the party had gotten so out of hand. I also shouldn’t have been surprised. By inviting one person, I might as well have invited the whole damn school. The news of a party always spread like wildfire.

  But in all fairness to me, it was summer, which meant families left town on vacations.

  “You broke our trust, Quinn.” The disappointment in Daddy’s tone made my stomach clench far worse than his anger.

  “I’m sorry.” It was all I could say. “It will never happen again.”

  Daddy rose and pushed his fingers through his short brown hair. “Darn right it won’t. You’re grounded for the summer. No parties. No friends. And that means Maiken too. You’ll pull extra shifts on the farm and in the store.”

 

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