by Chloe Walsh
Apologize.
“Six?” Turning the handle, I pushed the door inwards and walked inside. I didn’t bother knocking because I knew there was a huge chance she wouldn’t let me in if I did. Playing that song was a dick move and I knew it. When I stepped into her room, her bed was empty and still made. The sound of the shower running alerted me to the fact that she was in her bathroom.
Walking over to Six’s bed, I sank down on the purple comforter and waited for her to come out of the bathroom. When she finally did, she greeted me with a high-pitched scream.
“Rourke!” Six hissed, clutching the towel she had wrapped around her very wet – very naked – body. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“What I did with that song?” Jerking off the bed, I turned my back to her, averting my eyes from her almost naked body. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” No shit, Sherlock! “I won’t do it again.”
“Are you apologizing to me?” her voice was laced with surprise.
“Yeah, and you might wanna record it.” I shrugged, looking down at the floor. “Because it doesn’t happen often.”
“Wow.” Her voice was soft. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I frowned. What the fuck was okay supposed to mean?
“Yeah,” Six replied. “Okay.” I listened intently to the ruffling noises and sound of drawers opening and closing behind me. “I forgive you,” she finally said, coming to stand in front of me, dressed in a tank and pajama shorts. “Just don’t… do that to me again, okay?”
I nodded. “I won’t.”
“I’m not my mother, Rourke,” Six added, voice thick with emotion, as she looked up at me with those big, grey eyes. “I’m here because I don’t have a choice.” She folded her arms across her chest as she spoke, never taking her eyes off my face. “I don’t want your father to take care of me. And I don’t want his money either. All I want is to finish high school and get the hell out of here.”
I knew that. Fuck, deep down inside I think I always knew it. One look in her eyes and a blind man could see the sincerity pouring out of her. So why couldn’t I just accept it and be nice to the girl?
Because you’re afraid of the way she makes you feel a voice in my head screamed. It was the same voice I’d been trying to block out since she walked into my house.
Mercedes
I WAS WALKING around the counter with two mugs of black coffee in my hands when Rourke walked into Madame Jory’s on Friday afternoon with that big guy I’d thrown in the pool a few weeks back – Daryl King.
The moment my eyes landed on Rourke, my step faltered, but I quickly righted myself, managing to deliver the order without scalding myself in the process.
What the hell was he doing here?
He hadn’t come in here before.
Why now?
And why the heck had Alec decided to take his break now?
Things had been weird between me and Rourke. Weirder than before. Something had changed in his eyes that day he caught me in his bedroom. For a brief moment back in his room, I had thought he might kiss me. Of course, my mom had ruined that by bursting in and bringing up a shopping trip. The shutters Rourke had opened slightly to me that day had slammed tightly shut when Mom had mentioned money.
And then there was the whole escapade with that stupid song. Rourke had purposefully taunted me with it before doing a one-eighty and apologizing to me. I didn’t understand him or the way he made me feel. Most of the time, I wanted to scratch his eyes out, but there were brief moments when I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. Yeah, I hated those moments. They made me weak.
In the days that passed since our weird run in, I had been expecting Rourke to be extra cruel.
He wasn’t.
Like last night for instance; Amelia and I had ordered take out and were watching a movie in her room. When Rourke popped his head around the door to say goodnight to his sister, I had expected him to retreat the moment he noticed me.
He didn’t.
He accepted Amelia’s offer of joining us. Rourke didn’t say word to me during the movie, but he was there. He confused me and if I was being honest, fascinated me...
Forcing my features to remain impassive, I fought down the swell of anxiety in my stomach and walked back around the counter to serve him.
“What can I get you?”
“Sissy.” Daryl grinned. “How the hell are ya?”
“It’s Mercy,” I corrected him in a tight voice, forcing myself to remain professional.
“Mercy,” Daryl repeated slowly with a huge smile before winking. This boy was beautiful and I had a feeling he knew it. He had that enormous, sexy football player thing going for him, with a sun kissed tan, deep green eyes and dark brown hair similar in color to Rourke’s. He and Rourke were the same height, both giants, but where Rourke was lean and muscular, Daryl was broader and bigger. “I’ll have an iced tea,” he told me, again with the flirty wink.
Nodding, I reluctantly looked at Rourke. “You?”
Rourke looked down at me with a curious expression, his blue eyes locked on my face. Immediately, I felt my face heat under his stare.
He smirked, revealing both dimples in his cheeks and I bit back the urge to sigh. He affected me and what’s worse, I had a feeling he knew it. “I’ll have the same, Six.”
Six. The way Rourke said it now? It was more of a habit than a cutting remark and I had a feeling if he ever did call me by my real name I wouldn’t like it.
Rourke handed me a twenty and I quickly tolled up what he owed in the cash register before returning his change. He didn’t tip me or tell me to keep the change and I was glad. It would have been insulting.
My face was burning and I was furious with myself for displaying any sort of emotion around him. Shaking my head, I ordered myself to calm the heck down. “Take a seat and I’ll bring your drinks down to you,” I told the boys before turning my back on them and quickly getting to work on their orders.
“All good out here, Mercy?” Alec’s voice filled my ears then and I sagged in relief. He was back from his break.
Since starting at Madame Jory’s, between serving customers and wiping down tables, I’d spent a lot of time ogling Alec. He was insanely hot with a deep tan, blonde surfer hair, and amazing brown eyes. He was also twenty-one-years-old. Too old for me. But he was a great distraction from my asshole stepbrother.
I finished pouring two glasses of iced tea and placed them on a round tray before swinging around and handing it to Alec. “Can you drop these down to table…” I scanned the room and found the table Rourke and Daryl had taken up occupancy before saying, “Table four please?”
Alec smiled warmly and took the tray from my shaking hands. “No problem.”
“Thanks,” I squeezed out, relieved. Alec disappeared with their order. The place was dead this morning so I quickly busied myself with returning the jug of iced tea to the under counter fridge before wiping down the three small shelves.
“Mind explaining why that jock over there asked me why my waitress named Six didn’t drop off his drinks?” Alec asked when he returned, grinning down at me.
“It’s a long story,” I muttered, embarrassed.
Alec cocked a brow. “A long ex-boyfriend kind of story?” he asked, leaning his hip against the counter.
“Try a long, angry, stepbrother story.” I stood up and exhaled a heavy sigh. “My mom married his father earlier this year.” I shrugged. “He’s still pissed.”
“Ah.” Awareness dawned in Alec’s eyes – amazing brown eyes. “Bad blood?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Sounds like you need an ally in this town,” he replied after a moment. “Taking on the Falcon’s star player?” Alec leaned closer. “Can’t be easy.”
Was Alec flirting with me? “I can handle him,” I shot back, feeling a little flutter in my tummy.
“Even so, I think I should take you out sometime.” He grinned down at me. “Give you a few tips o
n taking on a guy like him.”
“And you’d know about taking on a guy like him?”
“I grew up in this town, too, Mercy,” Alec replied gruffly. “I know all about those rich pricks from the Academy.”
My lips tipped upwards. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Warm brown eyes shone down at me. “And why is that?”
“Because I’m too young for you.”
“I can assure you that I am a perfect gentleman,” he teased.
I laughed “I bet you are.”
“At least think about it?”
“Okay.” I shook my head and smiled, knowing I wouldn’t change my mind, but feeling flattered by his interest. “I’ll think about it.”
Rourke
“LOOKS LIKE SISSY has an admirer.” Daryl’s comment caused my head to snap up. My gaze honed in on Alec Larkin who was sidling up to Six behind the counter.
Immediately, my blood pressure began to rise.
Daryl and I knew all about that piece of shit Larkin. He’d been a few grades above us in school, and had graduated from the Academy three years ago when Daryl and I were up and comers on the football team.
When Daryl and I made the team freshman year, Alec had been the receding senior captain/quarterback. Playing college ball hadn’t worked out for Larkin and he had returned to Ocean Bay eighteen months ago to work in his Aunt’s café with his tail between his legs.
Personally, I’d never had a problem with the guy, Daryl was the one Larkin had beef with, but I had a feeling that was about to change. The way he was looking at Six assured me of this.
“What do you think his game is?” I asked, eyes still locked on him and Six.
Daryl snorted. “From the looks of it, I’d say his game is getting into your stepsister’s pants.” I bit back a growl. Yeah. That was not fucking happening. “Ignore him,” Daryl announced, drawing my attention back to him. “You know what that prick’s like,” he added. He finished off his drink and stood up. “If Larkin thinks he’s getting to you, he’ll never let up.”
“He’s not getting to me,” I bit out as I stood up stiffly and followed him to the door. “I couldn’t care less.”
“Uh-huh,” Daryl shot back with a grin. “You keep telling yourself that, Romeo.”
Mercedes
“ARE YOU GOING OUT WITH HIM?” were the first words that came out of Rourke’s mouth when I got home from work Friday night.
“Excuse me?” I asked, startled by his question and the aggression in his tone.
“Alec fucking Larkin,” Rourke growled. “Are you dating him?”
I raised a brow and met his stare head on. “What do you care?”
“Just answer the question, Six.”
Forcing myself to swallow my anger, I kicked off my shoes in the foyer and headed straight for the kitchen, feeling both hungry and irritated.
“Well?” Rourke demanded, following after me. “Are you?”
“That’s none of your business,” I shot back, irritated. I wasn’t dating Alec, nor had I any plans to, but that didn’t have a damn thing to do with Rourke freaking Owens.
“Yes, Rourke. We’re dating,” I shot back sarcastically. “In fact, Alec just asked me to have his babies. Isn’t that exciting?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”
“Not especially, but I think you’re asking questions that are none of your business.” Opening the refrigerator door, I pulled out a half-eaten plate of lasagna and carried it over to the microwave. “What do you care if I date Alec?” I added, sliding the plate into the microwave and switching it on. “You hate me, remember?”
“How I feel about you has nothing to do with this,” Rourke shot back angrily. “He’s too old for you, Six. You need to steer clear.”
The microwave pinged and I retrieved my plate and grabbed a fork before walking over to the island. “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to be picky when it comes to friends.” Sinking down on a stool, I stabbed at my meal. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not exactly the bell of the ball around here.” No thanks to you. “And Alec is about the only damn person in this shitty town who has been somewhat friendly to me since I arrived.”
“Yeah,” Rourke sneered, coming to stand at the opposite side of the island to me. “He’s being friendly because he wants to get you in the back of his truck,” he spat, glowering at me. “With your legs spread.”
“I don’t spread my legs easily, Rourke,” I quickly retorted. Not at all, actually...
He cocked a brow. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“Because you’re an asshole.”
“Fine.” Rourke threw his hands up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when he comes on hot and heavy.”
“I won’t,” I replied sweetly before popping a forkful of lasagna in my mouth and smiling.
Rourke turned to leave, but quickly spun back around to face me. “Are you that fucking lonely?” he demanded. “The guy is twenty-one. You’re seventeen, Six. Seven-fucking-teen.”
“Again,” I shot back. “What do you care?”
Rourke turned red. “I don’t care.” His words were laced with venom as he spoke. “I offered you some friendly advice. If you’re too fucking stupid and starved for attention to take it, then that’s on you, Six.”
That was it. I’d had enough.
“I might be lonely, Rourke,” I hissed, slamming my fork down on my plate. “But it’s temporary. It won’t last.” Climbing off the stool, I stalked towards him. “You’re the one who is going to end up completely alone,” I sneered before stalking out of the kitchen, appetite long gone.
Damn Rourke Owens.
Damn him to hell.
Mercedes
SHORTLY BEFORE OUR parents were due to leave for their trip, I found myself being led to a table by a waiter who looked more suitable to dine at this establishment than I did.
“Your family have yet to arrive, Miss,” he told me as he pulled out a chair for me to sit. “Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”
“Thanks.” I sat down and smiled politely. “I’ll have a Coke if that’s okay?”
“I’ll be right back with that, Miss,” the waiter announced with a flourish before hurrying off.
My short black skirt, converse, ponytail, and coffee stained tee didn’t exactly say sophisticated – which was just what Chez Barelles screamed. I had just clocked off work and hadn’t time to go home and change. I had woken up late this morning to a flat tire on the front passenger side of my Comet.
I couldn’t be late to work, so I snagged a ride to the Coffee Shop with Gabe’s driver, Sergio, and had run three blocks across town to get here.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, I leaned back in my seat and took in my surroundings. The crisp white tablecloth laid over the round table looked ridiculously plush and expensive. I could never understand why restaurant owners did that. Why would they put white table cloths down? It was inevitable the fabric would get ruined. Sure, it was fancy, but it wasn’t practical.
The waiter returned with my Coke and I thanked him before taking a deep drink. The table was set for six people, myself included, and I wondered who our extra guest would be. Gabe had obviously talked Rourke into this family dinner bullshit. I checked the screen of my phone. 7:46
They were over fifteen minutes late. It pissed me off that Gabe had made such a big deal about all of us meeting on time and yet I was the only one here.
Another ten minutes slipped by and the waiter returned, looking down at me with a slightly impatient frown. He looked at the five empty chairs and made a low tutting sound as he tapped his pencil against the pad he was holding.
Embarrassed and equally annoyed, I threw my hands up. What could I say? I was here; I wasn’t responsible for the rest of my estranged family. Inconsiderate assholes.
Concentrating hard on my glass, I tipped it from side to side, watching as the two melting ice cubes clanked and slid around in the bottom
of the empty glass. This sucked ass.
I waited another twenty minutes before admitting defeat and pushing back my chair. I apologized to the annoyed waiter and paid for my coke, tipping him my last ten bucks before hurrying out of the restaurant with my face blazing red.
When I reached the front of the restaurant, I inhaled a deep breath, taking in the smell of the ocean close by. I liked it. I hated that I did, but I liked being close to the water. It made me feel…free, even if that was silly. Wrapping my arms around myself, I mentally prepared for the twenty-minute walk back to Gabe’s place, and stepped out onto the street. My step faltered when I noticed the familiar black Chevrolet Silverado parked a few cars down the street.
Rourke was standing in front of the hood of his truck with his back to me.
Was he…?
Oh yeah, the extra pair of slender legs I noticed between his assured me Rourke was pressing some girl up against his fucking car. I was disturbed and oddly jealous. Ugh. Smacking down that notion, I glowered at the big bastard and stalked towards him.
“Where the hell were you?” Furious, I marched straight up to him. “I’ve been waiting in there for almost an hour and not one of you showed up!”
My accusatory tone didn’t go unnoticed and Rourke stiffened before slowly turning around to face me. He took a slow appraisal of my body before looking at me with a bored expression. “They cancelled.”
“They canceled?” I repeated, furious. “Are you fucking serious?”
Rourke glared at me. “Hey,” he snarled. “Don’t fucking shoot the messenger. I just found out myself.”
Message? “What goddamn message?” Huffing, I snagged my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. “I didn’t get any message.”
Rourke growled and ran an impatient hand through his dark hair. “Your mother wasn’t feeling well today, so my Dad took her to the emergency room –”
“My Mom’s sick?” I interrupted, voice cracking. A shooting blast of paralyzing fear shot through me. “Omigod.”