All That Matters

by Michelle Congdon

  I let go of my sports bag, letting it drop to the ground, and adjusted Maddie so I had hold of her in both arms. She began squealing and trying to kick and squirm free from my grasp, but I held her tightly. She was a tiny little thing, even for her age, which made it easier to swing her back and forth, pretending she was a football while I counted loudly back from three.

  “Threeeee…Twooooo…On―”

  I stopped short when a tall, stick-thin girl rounded the corner, almost bumping into me. Maddie used my distraction as an opportunity to monkey-climb onto my back, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I helped her up without looking, unable to take my eyes off the girl with the long, wavy, un-brushed, bright-red hair.

  The girl tilted her head and looked up at me from underneath her thick, long, dark lashes. The prettiest-colored eyes I’d ever seen stared back at me; a combination of emerald and olive green blended together with a ring of gray around the outside.

  I stood frozen, unable to move even if I wanted to. She was dressed in torn jeans and some kind of baggy, designer t-shirt with a faded image on the front. Her arms were covered in dark-gray markings of symbols and words I couldn’t make out. I counted at least seven strategically placed tattoos, but lost count when I noticed the multiple rope-like bracelets with small gold charms adorned on her wrist. The other hand held an iPod, and it took me a moment to realize that the arm with the bracelets was resting against her hip and the girl was giving me the evil eye.

  “That’s her; that’s Storm.” Maddie’s sudden voice in my ear snapped me back into focus; I blinked and cleared my throat. Who the hell is Storm?

  “Err… Harper?”

  “Who else could it possibly be?” the girl, who I assumed was my cousin answered with an American accent and a whole lot of attitude.

  I found myself frowning. “It’s been a while, and you look a lot different since I last saw you. I was just making sure.”

  “Well now that you’re sure, you can move out of my way.”

  Jeez, she really hadn’t changed one bit. I moved aside without saying another word and let her pass.

  Unable to take my eyes off her, I watched as she silently made her way around me then up the stairs that led toward the second floor without looking back. Harper had grown up; she wasn’t that scrawny little kid anymore. Well, she was still way too thin, and judging by our recent encounter she was still a total bitch, just now covered in tattoos. And she was kind of hot. What the fuck? She’s your cousin, you fucking idiot!

  “She’s not like the Storm on TV at all. This one is angry,” Madison mumbled, digging her chin into my shoulder, snapping me straight out of my insane thoughts.

  I tilted my head to face my baby sister. “That’s because she’s your cousin, Harper. Not this Storm bird.”

  “No, Jacko, it is Storm, I just know it. I’ll prove it to you.”

  I gave her a knowing smile, tugging at one of her soft, brown ringlets and letting go; watching as it bounced right back up. “Come on, Missy Moo; let’s go find Mum before you break my back.”

  She let go and slid down, racing off toward the kitchen while calling out to Mum.

  I slowly headed the same way and found Mum standing over the stove, cooking dinner. Maddie had sat down on a chair at the end of the dining table with her homework out, but seemed to be coloring in a picture of that Disney film Frozen instead.

  I walked up to Mum and kissed her on the cheek. “How did today go, sweetheart?” she asked sweetly.

  “Yeah, really well. They’re such great children, Mum.”

  I filled her in on everything that happened, dipping my finger into the large pot of chicken tagine she was making for dinner. After about the third time, she slapped my hand away, causing me to laugh.

  Mum was a fantastic cook. Well, she should be, because she had an entire bookshelf dedicated only to cookbooks, ranging from exotic meals to fancy desserts. Whenever she got the chance to work it into her busy nursing schedule, she loved to cook. Suited us just fine, as Dad, Blake and I love to eat.

  “Have you seen Harper yet?”

  More like bumped into, I wanted to say. “I spoke to her briefly in the hallway… How long’s she going to be staying with us?”

  “I don’t have an exact timeline, but I told her she can stay for as long as she wishes. I want to see my niece well again.”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything. I just wondered what Harper’s response was to that. That was my parents for you; they felt like they needed to fix everything. No, they wanted to help everything and everyone they could. It wasn’t a bad thing; it was something I admired in the both of them.

  When my parents discovered they weren’t able to have children, they decided to adopt. I came into their lives as a three-week-old baby. My biological, seventeen-year-old mother gave me up and chose to continue her heroin habit instead. My younger brother, Blake, was adopted from an orphanage in a remote part of Scotland fourteen years ago, when he was just a one-year-old. Madison was welcomed into our family when she was two, saved from an abusive and drug-filled household.

  I was grateful every day for my adoptive parents and the life I was blessed with. They were my best friends, and there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them.

  “Aren’t you worried about, well, you know.” Without even saying it, Mum seemed to know what I was talking about.

  “Nonsense, Jackson. Harper’s a good kid. Troubled, yes, but she’s gone through a lot, not to mention growing up in the spotlight and entertaining as soon as she could walk.”

  I leaned against the marble counter-top with my arms crossed at my chest, staring down at the large, white tiles on the ground in front of me.

  “Just give her a chance, sweetheart. She’s just looking for a friend who isn’t going to let her down or exploit her.”

  By the way she greeted me in the hall, I was pretty adamant Harper wasn’t looking for a friend of any kind.

  Six hours and fifteen minutes. That’s how long I’d been stuck in this country so far. Only six freakin’ hours, and I already felt like throwing myself down the stairs of my aunty and uncle’s house just to get out of this so-called ‘vacation’.

  First, there was the incident at the airport. The large crowd of people and media, just waiting for me to touch down, and proceeding to follow me out of the airport, snapping pictures like crazy all trying to get that “money shot.” It was one of the many things I hated about being a celebrity. No matter what, word always got out about whatever I was doing, or where I was going. In the blink of an eye, someone had posted it all over the internet, and I was greeted with a screaming mass before I even have the chance to use a restroom. And to think I actually thought this top-secret trip to Australia would remain just that, ‘top secret’.

  I expected a quiet and trouble-free exit through the international airport where I could slip past without anybody recognizing me. No one except my family was supposed to know about the trip. My mood instantly soured when a large crowd of emotional teenagers holding signs greeted me and clicked away with their cameras. Security guards had to escort me through to a private passage while my aunty and uncle, who were waiting for me amongst the crowd, had to show all forms of ID and wait for my confirmation to prove they were, in fact, my relatives before they could see me. I was thankful my uncle thought ahead and hired a huge bodyguard, who was able to push through the crowd on our way out.

  Then there was my aunty and uncle’s annoying eight-year-old daughter. I remembered her being less annoying the last time I saw her, perhaps because she was just a small child. Madison wouldn’t stop talking, and she followed me everywhere I went, asking questions with her excitedly annoyingly loud voice. I eventually had to tell her I had a headache and lock myself in the guest room, closing the door on her while she was mid-conversation.

  Aunt Juliana wasn’t any better; she kept going on and on about her two sons, Jackson and Blake, and how great they were. Like I gave a single care in the wor
ld; it wasn’t like I was planning on befriending either one of them while I was trapped here.

  I did have to admit that Jackson had gotten hot. He wasn’t that skinny kid following my brother, Hawke, around everywhere anymore. The guy had filled out, bulked up and his dark hair was now longer and in desperate need of a haircut. His skin even had that nice, rich tan people get when they spend most of their life at the beach. The only thing that hadn’t changed about him was his crystal-clear, deep-blue eyes. I’d almost started drooling when I bumped into him in the hall and was lucky I was able to contain myself in time. The idiot was too awe-struck to even notice, which was a relief.

  I collapsed onto the queen-sized bed and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a loud sigh; the bed was much smaller in comparison to mine back home. The guest bedroom my aunt had offered me was also small. Okay, it was a decent size. The entire house was actually quite big and spacey, but in comparison to the Hudson mansion I was used to, it was a shoebox. I also had to deal with the fact the room didn’t have its own bathroom attached. There was only one on the floor, which meant I had to share that bathroom with the two boys. Ugh, just great. The guest room itself looked like a picture straight from an interior design magazine of a room in a ritzy beach house. It had a dark-blue feature wall with large, framed photographs of different beaches and oceans hanging up, a large floor-to-ceiling glass window in front of the bed that overlooked the Sydney harbor and bridge, and blinds that came all the way across. The view wasn’t too bad, but it had nothing on the views of some of the holiday houses my family owned.

  A knock at the door interrupted me from my thoughts. I eyed the door for a moment, contemplating on whether to bother opening it or not when the knock came again.

  “Yes?” I called out in a sharp tone.

  “Mum, I mean, Aunty Juliana asked if you could come down for dinner,” replied a shy and nervous voice. It had to belong to Blake; it sounded nothing like Jackson.

  “Fine,” I answered before sitting up and making my way toward the bedroom door. Would they care if I decided on eating dinner alone in my room?

  I found Blake still standing there awkwardly when I eventually opened the door. Even though I hadn’t seen him in many years, it was hard not to recognize him. Blake had a ‘Prince Harry’ appeal to him. He was pale, tall, lean but athletic-looking even though I’d heard he would spend his days playing video games. His hair seemed to glow a vibrant orange and his face was lightly dusted in freckles; he had more than I last remembered.

  His dark-brown eyes watched me as I gave him a quick once-over, closed the door behind me, and marched toward the stairs.

  I’d always liked Blake. He was the quiet one; the one who was eager to please my sister and me. The one that would do whatever we asked. It was his stupid older brother who was the one to always ruin our fun and tell us off by saying his brother Blake wasn’t some servant we could order around.

  ****

  “So, how was the flight over, Harper?”

  I stopped poking at the half-eaten food on my plate and glanced at my uncle. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks. He’d just gotten home and hadn’t bothered to change out of his work clothes. Uncle Hugo was a doctor and worked extremely long hours, or so I was told, and seeing him dressed like this wasn’t an unusual thing. I remember my mother once going on about how he worked with children, but it wasn’t something I was ever interested listening to. As I so often did, I had tuned out what she had to say. Looking at him now, I strangely found myself wondering about him and his career. It appeared Uncle Hugo had aged very little since the last time I’d seen him and clearly his taste in expensive work clothes hadn’t changed, either.

  The rest of the family had all stopped what they were doing and were looking at me, waiting for an answer. My eyes scanned each of their faces before finally resting on Jackson’s, whose eyes were lit with amusement. What was with that? I glared back before quickly turning to face my uncle.

  “It was fine. My neck is a little tight, though.”

  “Those first-class sky beds must really be lacking in the comfort department.”

  I shot a vulgar look over in Jackson’s direction and opened my mouth to say something, but Aunt Juliana beat me to it.

  “Jackson!” his mother scolded. “That is no way to speak to your cousin, who is a guest in this house.” My eyes flicked over to Aunt Juliana. It fascinated me how much she and my mom looked alike. Although she was two years older than the evil queen, and had a more natural look to her while my mom reveled in her Botox obsession, they both still shared many similar features and evidently the same sharp, stern voice.

  “Naughty, Jackson!” Madison added, scrunching her face and raising her index finger at him.

  Jackson laughed it off―of all the things to do. I’d barely been in the house twelve hours and already the guy was getting on my last nerve.

  “Sorry, Mum,” he said, and then turned his intense, blue-eyed gaze back to me. “So, how was the flight? We’re all dying to know. Did they provide you with the top priority service that was up to your standards? Did they make you pay for anything? Or was everything offered to you for free?”

  “That is quite enough, mate. If you had a rough day today, there’s no excuse for taking it out on Harper; she hasn’t done anything wrong,” Uncle Hugo said sternly.

  “Actually, my day was great, Dad,” Jackson replied, turning to his father with a proud grin.

  “In that case, drop the discourteous attitude. We’re trying to have a nice family dinner.”

  With that warning, Jackson simply nodded at his father and went back to eating his dinner, but I could still see the smirk he was trying hard to hold back.

  After dinner, I excused myself and was about to head up to my room when Aunt Juliana called out my name from the kitchen.

  “Harper, dear, could you please help with the dishes?" Umm, what? I definitely did not do dishes, and I was not about to start.

  I had planned to ignore her, but she popped her head around the corner and called out to me again before I had the chance to slip away.

  Once in the kitchen, I found Blake leaning over the kitchen sink with his hands in soapy water, scrubbing a plate clean. My face wrinkled up just by looking at it. Aunt Juliana handed me a small towel and pointed to the clean dishes drying on a silver rack. I stared at the towel in my hands, unsure what she wanted me to do with it. Did she expect me to use it? She had to be kidding.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I know you might not be used to this sort of thing, but we don’t have any help in this household. I cook when I can, and the children help me clean up around the house.”

  “I don’t do that ‘sort of thing’,” I replied, looking up at her, ready for a challenge if she was going to bring it. I handed her the towel back but she didn’t take it. She only continued to stand there with her arms crossed and a disappointed look on her face.

  The sound of my defiant reply had even caused Blake to stop what he was doing and look over his shoulder at us, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “If you’re going to live under this roof, you will need to learn.” Her voice remained calm, but the hidden command was very clear. Aunty or not, she wasn’t going to force me to do something I didn’t want to.

  I was ready to drop the towel right there at her feet when it was unexpectedly snatched out of my hands.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mum; I’ll do it before I go. Give the princess time to adjust to this lifestyle before giving her domestic duties.” Jackson threw me a smirk before taking a spot at the sink beside his brother.

  “Thank you, Jackson,” Aunt Juliana replied, turning away from me and looking toward her adopted son in admiration.

  She didn’t bother to glance my way again, but the last thing I heard her say before I turned and left the kitchen was, “I have a few things to finish up before I go to bed. I’ll come up and say goodnight to you, Blake, when I’m done. Jackson, please don’t come home too late; remember you have trai
ning in the morning.” The two boys nodded and Jackson gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.

  A small ache in my chest made me wince. The last time I ever heard my own mom say something remotely similar to that was back when Quinn was still alive. Ever since then, she never had the time, or she was never home to say even the simplest goodnight. With my back ramrod straight, I climbed the stairs and ignored the ache in my heart.

  “So, how’d the first night with the hot cousin go?” Jon asked, nudging my shoulder.

  I held back a grimace, refusing to give Jon any of my attention. Instead, I kept my focus on Coach, who was running through the game plan for Friday night’s home game. It was extremely hard to concentrate on every single detail, since I’d spent the night actually studying at the campus library until three in the morning. Then getting up at five to be at the stadium for training, forcing myself to listen to the plays was far better than hearing anything Jon had to say.

  “You ever think to hit that?” That got my attention. I turned to him with a glare before turning back to face the coach.

  “You’re sick, you know that?” I hissed through my teeth, careful not to distract the other boys or the coach¸ or we’d both end up in trouble.

  “What?” He shrugged carelessly. “Mate, you do realize you two aren’t in fact related, and it’s not like the two of you are close or anything. If I were you, I’d definitely try to get a piece of that fine arse.”

  “Well, I’m not you and you’ve clearly forgotten about Dina.” There. Hopefully bringing up the name of the girl I was currently seeing would shut him up.

  Instead, I heard him laugh under his breath. “We all know you won’t get serious with that girl. She’s been around way too much, if you know what I mean.” He nudged my shoulder again. God help me for knocking him out if he nudges me one more time.

  I ignored him. I didn’t need to be reminded of the situation I had with Dina, not now, not ever. She was an older girl I fucked; it was that simple. She wanted more but I wasn’t willing to give it. She had slept with several of the boys on the team―Jon included―and had a three-year-old child with some Rugby League player who wanted nothing to do with her, taking the child on every second weekend.