by Henry, Max
I forget how well he knows me.
GREER
If the ride home with Mr Williams wasn’t awkward enough, then walking in the house to find Mum scrolling through my Facebook feed on her laptop took the cake. And not viewing my feed from her own profile. No. As in, my feed. Logged in as me.
“What are you doing?”
She snaps her head around, guilty as sin. “You’re home.”
“That I am.” I gesture to the crisp white and blue page. “Why are you in my account? And how?”
She rises from the seat at the long banquet table and shuts the lid of the MacBook. My graffiti decal sits proudly on the case, all the bright colours of the rainbow. Guess I just figured out how she logged in, then.
“I went online using your computer to see exactly what kind of mess we’re dealing with, Greer.” Hands clasped before her, she moves slowly in my direction. “Viewing the small number of posts from your fellow students that were public didn’t tell me much, I needed to get the information from the inside.”
“So, you snooped through my private affairs?” I holler.
Her maxi-dress floats dreamily around her feet as she advances. “I did what any concerned parent would.” Her brow hardens, her expression in stark contrast to the light, summery attire she wears. “What I found was so much worse.”
I swear my heart just skipped a beat.
“The things you say to that boy,” she states, her mouth twisted as though the recollection tastes bitter on her tongue. “And the way he speaks to you.”
“You have no right to be reading my messages, Mum.”
“I have every right!” The sheer volume she projects rattles me to the bone.
A tense second passes while she gathers herself, and I remember how to breathe.
“You are not to see him,” she demands. “At school, at home, or your friends’ house. Should Colt Williams arrive, then you excuse yourself and leave.”
“You think I’m going to listen to you?” I whisper. “You can’t make me do that.”
“Can’t I?” The ice in her tone has me reeling. “Either you cut off all connections with that criminal, or I remove you from temptation.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She stops toe-to-toe with me and reaches for a loose lock of my hair. “It means, sweetheart.” Her fingers wind through the curl at the end. “If you don’t do as you’re told, I’ll send you away to an all-girls boarding school.” Her lash-framed gaze finds mine. “In another country.”
I jerk free from her caress. “You can’t bury your head in the sand about this.”
“I’m hardly doing that.”
I move backward, heading for the foyer and the stairs. “You are. By choosing to believe the lies people tell about Colt, you’re picking the easy option of denying there could be any other truth.”
“Speak English, girl.”
“I mean,” I holler, my hands shaking as I reach the doorway. “That you never stop to ask if what you’ve heard about Colt is true. You just assume he’s trouble because of what his father did, or what you’ve heard from the other mothers.”
“Are you really going to stand there and tell me with a straight face that it’s all lies?”
I steady myself on the doorjamb.
“Colt never raped a helpless drunk girl?”
“No.”
“He never destroyed some boy’s car on school grounds?”
“It was retaliation. Johnson did it to Colt’s car first.”
“And he never went to Christian’s quiet get-together with a band of uncouth country lads to raise hell over poor Libby and Christian speaking the truth?”
“What?” I screw my face up, barely able to believe what I heard. “No! What the hell, Mum?”
“You watch your tone with me.” She raises a firm finger my way. “Get upstairs and change out of those trashy clothes. You’re grounded, Greer.”
“You can’t do that to me anymore I’m not five.”
“Yes. I can,” she grits out. “And as of this moment, you’re acting worse than a tantrum-throwing five-year-old.”
“What about Dad?” I try in vain. “What does he say about this?”
“You know his stance on the Williams family.”
I nod. “But did he get in a say in how you want to punish me? Threaten me?”
She huffs out her nose with disdain. “Your father is too busy with real work, sweetie. He trusts me to do the tedious day-to-day of the house without bothering him unnecessarily.”
“In other words, you haven’t spoken to him about this.”
“No. I haven’t.” She takes two steps toward me. “And you won’t bother him with it either.”
“Or what? You’ll skip Go and send me straight to Jail?”
“Whatever it takes to get it through to you, Greer. You’re a Roberts, and he’s a Williams. The two don’t mix.”
I turn and flee for the stairs, calling as I go, “I’ll never trust you again.”
“Good!” Mum shouts after me. “I don’t need your trust, just your respect.”
She’d be lucky ever to have that, too.
This is what I get for sticking up for a friend. For staying true to a family who’ve done nothing but care for me as though I’m one of their own. My door rebounds off the wall, I fling it open so hard. The sight that greets me shakes me worse.
My drawers are disturbed. My belongings not where I left them on the surfaces in my room. She’s been through everything in here. Nothing remains untouched.
My one sanctuary. The one place I felt safe no matter what is now tainted with her ire.
I can’t stay here. I won’t stay here. Tugging my school sports bag from the bottom of my walk-in, I then set it in the centre of my floor. I can only take what’s necessary if I care for it to fit, so first go three pairs of shoes to cover all occasions. Next, I layer my underwear in the spaces and then set about smoothing clothing over the top. She didn’t take my car keys, and she hasn’t fit a lock to my door. My mother can’t force me to stay like some prisoner. I jam as many toiletries and assorted day-to-day items as I can on top before forcing the teeth of the zipper to bind over the collection.
I have never gone against my parents this way, but I guess there’s always a time and a place to make our stand. And today? I think I’ve found mine.
I won’t be a part of this arrogant society where people believe the assets in their accounts somehow make them superior to people with less material possessions to their name.
Money can’t buy happiness. And old cliché, but one that rings true when I look around me at my friends, at their parents. On the surface, all is well. But dig a little underneath, and you soon see the web of lies and pain that holds the façade together.
I choose a different road.
Maybe this stunt will barely last the hour before I’m dragged back into this house. Perhaps I’ll make it a full day. However long I get to live my fantasy as a runaway, I know one thing already.
The next few hours will be the best and most genuine of my life.
TUCK
Major trots to the centre of the paddock before promptly dropping to the ground and rolling on his back. I watch with a wry smile as he rolls around, legs kicking up in all directions, and scratches where the saddle sat.
“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” Dad appears beside me at the gate, his shirt fisted in one hand.
Working the land every day keeps him in good shape, and if it weren’t for the grey hairs he sports, you’d be forgiven for thinking he’s ten years younger.
“I got kicked out, more or less,” I explain, pushing off the steel pipe frame. “Colt turned up.”
“Lacey’s brother.”
I nod and then head for the house.
He trails behind. “What are you going to do about tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
Dad waits until he catches up to me at the back door, each of us kicking off our boots. �
��You planning on doing your race with Major?”
He walks by as though nothing’s amiss, stepping into the house.
“You knew I did that?”
Dad chuckles, reaching for a clean drinking glass. “All the parents know what you do when you have the parties. We aren’t blind, son.” He fills it with water from the tap. “Tyre marks on our roadways, and horses that have sweat marks in their coat the next day.” He grins before taking a sip. “You kids forget we were young and reckless once, too.”
Shit. It never occurred to me just how much he probably kept to himself. “What else do you know?”
“Nothing for now.” He sets the empty vessel on the counter. “But I need to share something with you.” Dad gestures to the dining chairs. “Sit.”
I snag myself a cold juice from the fridge and then do as I’m told.
He takes his place at the opposite end and sets both hands on the table. “The lawyer mentioned last night, Derek.”
I nod.
“I’ve met him before.”
I don’t know what to say other than “Why?”
Dad scrubs a hand over his face. “A few years ago, a bunch of those pricks in town got together to attempt a buyout of a few farms along our ridge. They had plans to develop the land into some boutique housing bullshit.”
“Obviously it never went ahead.”
“Nobody accepted their offer,” he states. “The figure was an insult at best.”
“But?” He wouldn’t tell me this unless it led somewhere else.
“I never gave a firm answer.” He pulls a staggered breath. “I wanted to wait to see if they’d get desperate enough to push up the price.”
“You wanted to sell our home to developers?” I seethe. “Are you for real?”
“I had my reason for it,” he defends.
I can’t believe the shit I’m hearing. “What reason? We’ve been on this farm since before you and Mum had us kids.”
He nods. “We have. But you remember the old Coates place over on Northbend?”
“Yeah.”
“Rumour had it they we’re looking to put it up for sale.”
“And you wanted it?” I frown. “But it’s less than half what we have here.”
“Exactly.” Dad leans back in his chair. “Look, son. I get good money from the beef when the price is right. I don’t make as much breaking horses, and that’s why I’ve been reluctant to do it more. But I love it. Horses are what I know, and I care about, not cows.” He snorts a laugh. “Horses have a brain.”
I chuckle. He has a point. There’s the odd exception, but most cows are huge, clumsy liabilities. “You want to ditch beef, then?”
Dad nos. “If I’d got that property, I would have focused solely on equine training. But I can’t do it here and run this place on my own.” He frowns. “As much as you do help, Tuck.”
“I understand.” I pick at a gouge in the tabletop. “Why tell me this now?”
He leans in, hands clasped before him. “That Derek Mayberry is a shady bastard. He’s damn good at what he does, and if he wants Lacey to sign an affidavit that incriminates Colt, then he’ll get her to do it.”
“Except he wanted it back yesterday, and she hasn’t done it.”
Dad shakes his head. “Things like that don’t expire. He would have put a time constraint on it to add pressure and panic her into doing it without thinking it through. Oldest trick in the book.”
“What now, then?”
He sighs, rising from the table. “I guess we deal with Dee’s house first. I left a voicemail for both Peter and Dot. But I get the impression they’re out of cell range.”
“Shit.”
He leans the heels of his hands on the edge of the counter, facing me. “If you come along tonight, Tuck, then I need you to understand that the reason you’re there—the only reason—is to help mitigate damage to the Archerson’s property.”
“Yes, sir.” It seems when things get serious, I default to old habits.
“That means no running off to find Lacey or join your friends in anything. They have their own to look out for them. We need to step up for our friends when they’re not there to do it for themselves.”
He might be a hard arse most of the time, but my dad is also honourable. He’ll give a man the shirt off his back for no other reason than the sheer ability to do so.
“How do you want to approach this, then?”
Kurt sighs out his nose, eyes distant as he stares at the wall over my head. “First part is up to you.” He shifts his gaze to my face. “You need to talk sense into Dee and get her to let us over before anyone is due so we can assess any problem areas.” He counts off on his fingers. “We need to clear any hazards from areas that people will congregate. Machinery and equipment are to be under lock and key. Firearms locked away in the gun safe as they should be. Anything of value should be out of sight, out of mind, and that means stuff idiots from town won’t think is valuable, like feed hay; you don’t want people climbing all over it and ruining the bales.”
“Understood.”
“She’ll need to decide where she wants everyone so we can funnel them into that area. James and I can keep strays out of the house and sheds, but she’ll do best to keep them all central.”
I smirk.
He pauses in his detailing and frowns. “What is it?”
“You almost sound as if you’ve done this before.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, I see my Dad smile. “I’ve done it more times than you’ve had hot meals, Tuck.” Fuck, it’s incredible.
“I guess I better get to work, then.”
“You probably should.” He watches me a moment, seemingly pleased.
“Something else?”
“Nope.” Dad shakes his head, looking away. “Carry on.”
I’m dubious, but I do as I’m told anyway. The way he looked at me… It was almost as though he was about to say he’s proud of me.
Dream on, Tuck. Take it one step at a time.
LACEY
“Why does everyone have to be so private these days?” Colt complains. “It makes sleuthing extra hard.”
“Ssh.” I lift a hand to stop him. “Did you hear that?”
He hesitates, phone in hand, and narrows his eyes. “Nope.”
I catch the rumble of voices again when he speaks, waving my hand frantically to shut him up as I slide off my bed. “I heard it again.” He watches me head for the door. “I didn’t hear Dad get home. Did you?”
“I wasn’t exactly waiting with bated breath,” he sasses.
I open my bedroom door and head for the front of the house. Yep. Most definitely, there’s the sound of people talking—no, arguing—somewhere our front. Colt rises from the floor in my bedroom when a man’s voice that isn’t Dad’s breaks through the thin walls of the house.
We scurry down to the kitchen window and peer out at the driveway. Sure enough, there stands Dad with his car keys in hand, frowning while he faces off with not just Alicia, but Derek too.
“They must have pulled up at the same time as Dad,” Colt whispers, fixated on the three of them.
“What are they talking about?” I push into his side to get a better view.
“Stay quiet,” he mumbles, “and we might hear.”
Typical. Now that he wants to listen, he’ll snipe at me for doing exactly what he was in my room.
The two of us press up against the kitchen counter to follow the dialogue. Mum bitches about how both Colt and I have come back to Arcadia, blaming him for being too lenient on us. As he should, Dad’s defending himself, but it’s not hard to see he has a tenuous hold on his patience.
“Why is Derek here, though?” Colt slides from beside me, moving to the back door. “Let me know if they head for the house,” he whispers, pressing up against the timber to hear them better.
I conceal myself better off to the side of the window on enough of an angle that they won’t easily see me, but I can keep a
close eye on the three of them. Alicia continues to berate Dad with even Derek looking bored with her opinions.
Christian’s father lifts a hand to shush our mother and then turns for Dad. I can’t make out what he says; the timbre of his voice is too low.
“What’s he asking?” I whisper to Colt.
He lifts his hand and concentrates. “They’re talking about the affidavit.” He returns to eavesdropping.
I glance back out the window at the same time as Alicia turns to look at the house. My arse hits the floor with a smack, my head narrowly missing the cupboard doors.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Colt hisses.
“She almost saw me.”
He stares a moment before his entire face lights up. “We haven’t done this since you were, like, six or something.”
I grin, nodding. “I know.”
“Why the fuck are we hiding?” he asks, raising his voice a little. “Let’s just go out there. This is about us, too, so we have a right to listen in.”
I scoot across the kitchen floor and then take his offered hand. Colt smoothes my ruffled hair and smiles. “Are you ready?”
“Hurry up.” I gesture to the door with my chin. “We’re missing stuff.”
He huffs in amusement and then opens the door.
The adults pause in their conversation as Colt, and I descend the porch steps.
“Go back inside,” Alicia snaps.
“No.” Dad lifts his hand. “They can stay.”
“This isn’t their business,” our mother argues.
Colt takes my hand. “It’s more our business than yours.”
Her glare is cooler than ice. “You do realise that you’re facing one heck of a hefty jail sentence?” she asks. “Derek enlightened me on the way out here as to what judgments have been passed down over similar cases in the past.”
“Not that you can make an accurate assessment from that alone,” Derek corrects her.
“Oh, but it is a helpful indicator.” She diverts her attention to Dad. “I know you can’t afford his court fees, James. Which means, of course, you’ll be leaning on me to do it for you.”