And perhaps more than anything else, I wished I could open up to my family about what I was feeling. I wished I could lean on my brothers, on my mom, on the ones who had always been there for me. But I already knew what they would say.
They’d say I told you so.
And I couldn’t stand to hear it — not now, maybe not ever.
I’d been so sure that they were wrong about Mallory, that the acts of her father didn’t speak for her. I was so sure she was different — not just from the other Scooters, but from every other person in this town, period. I’d seen this deeper side to her, this diamond she kept hidden from everyone else — at least, that’s what I’d convinced myself.
And even now, even in the middle of the pain caused by her hand, by her father’s hand — I still believed it.
I’d lashed out at her the night before, and shame heated my neck again at the memory of it. I was hurt, and unable to control my anger, and I’d taken everything out on her when I knew she hadn’t meant to hurt me.
But she had hurt me.
And I didn’t know if the intention not to even mattered anymore.
She had her hands tied. That, I could understand. She was out of college, without a job and without a home, and her father gave her the opportunity to have an art studio of her own, a home above it, a place and a purpose. Could I have said no, had that same opportunity been presented to me — even if the strings attached to it were sticky and dirty and suffocating?
I sighed, readjusting the pillow behind my back on the couch. Jordan, Mikey, and I were taking turns playing Madden while Mom cleaned up in the kitchen. Pie would be served soon, and then I could make an excuse to leave and finally be alone.
“You sound like a bull with all that huffing and puffing you’ve been doing,” Jordan said, keeping his eyes on the screen where he was currently making an offensive running play against Mikey. Mikey’s defensive end took the running back down easily, and the screens popped up for each of them to select their next formation and play.
“My back is aching,” I lied. “Just trying to get comfortable.”
“You know you can cut the bullshit anytime, right?” He hiked the ball. “I think we’re all tired of pretending like last night didn’t happen.”
“I’m not pretending anything. I just don’t feel like talking about it.”
“Why? Because you’re too big and bad for feelings?” His tongue jutted out as he pressed the buttons that sent the ball flying out of the quarterback’s hands and down the field to a wide receiver. It was caught, and he ran it all the way to the ten-yard line.
“Bullshit,” Mikey mumbled. “You’re not getting into that end zone, brother.”
“We’ll see,” Jordan replied with a smirk as they picked their next plays.
“No,” I said, answering his assessment. “Because I already know what you guys will say, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“Oh, you hear that, Mikey? Logan’s a mindreader now. Knows what we’ll say before we do.”
“Should sign him up for the circus,” Mikey chimed.
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, like you’re both not waiting for the chance to say you told me so, that Mallory is a Scooter and I should have known better? That I should have kept my distance?”
Jordan paused the game, and he and Mikey both turned, confusion on their faces. “What are you talking about?”
The color drained from my face. I realized then that the only person I’d told about my interest in Mallory — past the fact that she worked with me, anyway — was Mom.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“I was thinking about the fact that the promotion rightfully owed to you was given to a Scooter, yes, but it doesn’t reflect on you,” Jordan said, one eyebrow lifted. “This was on them. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it.”
“He’s talking about the fact that he’s in love with Mallory and feels like a sucker now that he realizes she was taking his job all along.”
Jordan’s attention snapped to my youngest brother, and I gritted my teeth, hands fisting at my sides.
“I’m not in love with her.” Again, a lie.
“Wait,” Jordan said, pointing at Mikey when he looked back at me. “What does he know that I don’t?” He narrowed his eyes, pointing his finger at me this time. “Have you been hooking up with Mallory Scooter?”
I sniffed, crossing my arms over my chest without an answer.
Jordan let out a bark of a laugh, eyes wide. “Wow.”
“She’s not what you think she is,” I defended.
“Clearly.”
“She’s not. She hates her father almost as much as we do. She knows the shitty things he’s done, and she’s spent her whole life trying to get away from that legacy.”
“Well, obviously, she’s doing a fine job of that.”
“She didn’t know he was going to do this,” I growled.
“Then why are you so upset?” Jordan threw back. “If Mallory is so innocent, and you’re so in love, then why are you moping around like someone rearranged the books on your bookshelf?”
“Because everything I was afraid of losing I lost in a matter of minutes!” I stood, glaring down at my brothers on the floor. “Because that job was the only chance I had of doing my part to keep the Becker name alive in that distillery. Because they’re trying to wash Dad out of their history altogether, and it’s working. Because I can’t do anything about it. And yes, because for the first time in my fucking life, I thought maybe I could have what Mom and Dad did, that I could be with a woman who understood me, who challenged me, who made my life better instead of just making me roll my eyes at all the fucking town gossip that most girls in Stratford are obsessed with. She was different, and for the first time since Dad died, I was actually fucking happy.” I didn’t even bother hiding the tears that flooded my eyes, because with my brothers, I was never afraid to cry. “All I do, all I’ve ever done is try to keep the peace. I need steadiness — routine and dependability. And right now, I don’t have any of that. Right now, I’m on a piece of fucking driftwood in the middle of the ocean without a paddle or a prayer in hell of finding land again.” I swallowed, holding my chin high, though every part of me was trembling. “That’s why I’m upset. Are you fucking happy now?”
Neither of my brothers could look at me then, and I took their eyes being glued to the carpet as an answer. Mom had peeked out of the kitchen, and the look in her eyes when I turned around was so heartbreaking, I couldn’t hold it together any longer. I swiped my laptop off the kitchen table and barreled outside, not bothering to grab a jacket. I needed space, and fresh air, and to not have anyone’s pitiful stare on me for a while.
Of course, I should have known better with my family. It didn’t take long before Jordan and Mikey walked outside and sat on the porch with me. Jordan handed me my jacket, and I tugged it on without looking at him, keeping my attention on the laptop. They let me stew for a little while longer, but then my little brother got up from the rocking chair he sat in, flipped my laptop lid shut, and forced me to look at him.
“We’re sorry,” he said, leveling his hazel eyes with my own. We both favored Mom, and sometimes, when I looked at him, I saw a younger version of me. “I’m saying that on behalf of all of us. But you should know that we love you, and we would never judge you. Not even if you robbed a bank and tried to get away in a go-kart.”
I sighed, smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “I know. I’m sorry, too. I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this. I hate feeling anything negative, and right now, I’m drowning in everything negative.”
“I know the feeling,” he said, and Jordan and I exchanged glances.
Our little brother had been battling a broken heart for months, and here he was, ready to go to war for mine.
That was the Becker way.
Mikey pulled his rocking chair over so he could face me, and Jordan leaned against the porch railing, quiet for now.
“
I didn’t realize it until Noah got with Ruby Grace, until Bailey broke up with me, maybe not even until just now, when you said what you did inside, but…” Mikey shrugged. “I think we’re all looking for what Mom and Dad had. And if I’m being honest, I think we’re wasting our time.”
Jordan shifted his weight, but kept quiet, watching our little brother as he continued.
“I don’t know what happened between you and Mallory, but I can tell you now, if it’s over?” He shook his head. “Just let it be over. Find a way to let her go. I know it feels impossible. Trust me — I’m still holding on to a girl who tossed me aside so easily, I got whiplash. But, the more time that passes, the more I see that… well… maybe the kind of love Mom and Dad had really is so rare that not everyone can find it. Noah did, and I love that for him. But, I don’t know… maybe it’s not in the cards for all of us.”
My throat tightened, the grip so tight I couldn’t swallow past it.
“That’s probably not what you want to hear,” he said. “But, it’s what I believe to be true. And you know, there’s more to life than love. We can find joy in other things, you know? Our careers, our family, our hobbies. Travel. Maybe live in a new city, a new place that doesn’t have the same weight as this town always has for us.”
He swallowed at that, and I narrowed my eyes, because if there was one thing our family always agreed on — it was that our place was in Stratford. We had a legacy here, and we would fight to keep it. But the way Mikey was talking, it was like he wanted to be free of it all. In a way, I guessed I couldn’t blame him.
“You forget that I lost my career,” I pointed out.
“No, you didn’t,” Jordan said from where he stood. “You lost a promotion, but that’s all. And who knows, maybe Mallory will crash and burn and they’ll have no choice but to give the job to you.”
“Or to a rookie, since they seem hell bent on keeping Beckers out of leadership,” I argued.
“Maybe,” Jordan conceded with a shrug. “But, that’s the fight we all knew we’d be in, right? When Dad died, when that company covered it up and made it seem like an accident, even though we know there’s something more to it… we all agreed to keep Dad’s memory alive in this town, in our own ways. You and Noah and Mikey knew going into jobs at the distillery that it wouldn’t be easy, but you’re still there. And you’re going to tell me that because of one setback, you’re ready to quit? To leave it all behind?”
I blinked, shaking my head as my gaze fell to the chipping wood planks of the porch. “I don’t want to quit.”
“Then don’t.”
I nodded, letting their words settle over me. They were both right, of course — another annoying trait of the Becker family. When one of us lost our cool, we found it hard to see clearly, but the rest of the crew was always right there to help light the way back to rationality.
When we fell, we fell hard. When we loved, we loved with all we had. When we fought, we fought until we dropped. And when one of us was knocked down, the whole team stopped everything to get them back on their feet.
That was the Becker way.
I sighed, deciding in that moment that there was nothing more to say. Jordan was right, there was no way I was going to walk away from the distillery. If anything, I reckoned that was what Patrick wanted me to do — and I’d be damned if I’d give him what he wanted. I was there to stay — even if it would suffocate me to see Mallory in that job every day.
And as for what I felt for her, maybe Mikey was right about that. Maybe what I thought we had, what I desired from her, from us… maybe it didn’t actually exist. She had ties to her family, and I had ties to mine, and for that reason alone, it didn’t make sense that we would ever be together. I’d lived in the apartment above that shop with her in a secret hideaway, a place where we could pretend we were someone different, that what we had could last.
Now, we were back in the real world.
And it just was what it was.
I stared at the laptop in my hands, and my chest ached for a completely different reason. “There’s something else I need to tell you guys,” I said, looking up at both of them.
Their frowns mirrored each other as I opened my laptop again, and I swallowed, turning the screen toward them.
Jordan squinted at it. “Username: Becker dot John at Scooter Whiskey dot com,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. Are you trying to break into Dad’s old email?”
“I’m trying to break into his old laptop.”
Mikey leaned in closer. “But his laptop is gone,” he said. “They never recovered it from the fire.”
“They did,” I corrected. “They just never told us.”
My brothers watched me for a long moment before Mikey pulled the laptop into his hands, and Jordan watched over his shoulder while I told them the whole story. I told them about the storage closet, the laptop, how I’d extracted the hard drive, but it was password protected. I told them that I didn’t want to tell them at first, because I thought it was hopeless. But, I’d tried everything that I knew, and now, I needed their help trying to figure out the password.
“If we can get into it, maybe we can find something,” I said. “I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly, but maybe…”
“Maybe there are answers,” Jordan finished, his eyes scanning the screen.
“Ky knows a little about hacking,” Mikey chimed in. “She’s big into gaming and computers, and one time she hacked into the school system and changed everyone’s grade to an A in Mr. Zee’s anatomy class because he was such a stickler and never taught us what was actually on our tests.”
“Oh shit, I remember that. Your sophomore year, right?” I asked
He nodded. “Maybe she can help.”
“Here,” I said, reaching for the laptop. I safely ejected the external hard drive that now housed the one that had been inside Dad’s computer and handed it to Mikey. “Take it. You guys can work on it for a while. I’ve been obsessing over it, anyway. Need a break.”
“Okay. We need to tell Noah, too.”
“I will,” I said. “As soon as he’s back. He’s happy right now, I want to let him have that.”
For a long pause, my brothers and I were quiet. I felt marginally better, though my chest was still tight. I figured it would be that way for a while, until time could do its work and heal me, my heart, my soul. It’d been that way when Dad passed away, too, and I’d survived.
If I could make it through that, I could make it through anything.
When we all stood to make our way back inside, Jordan nudged Mikey with a smirk. “So… you and Ky are hanging out again, huh?”
Mikey frowned with a noncommittal shrug. “So? We’ve been friends forever. Why is it weird that we’re hanging out?”
“No reason,” Jordan said, but he and I exchanged a knowing look. That girl had been in love with our brother since they were toddlers, and I had a feeling Mikey was going to discover that real soon.
I just hoped he could give her a chance, open his heart to that possibility after Bailey.
And I hoped that maybe, one day, I could do the same with mine.
Mallory
I shouldn’t have been as angry as I was that Christmas decorations still lined Main Street when I woke up the next morning. Of course, no one was going to take them down over night. In fact, I knew they’d still be up for another week or so, spreading joy through the new year.
Damn them.
It was just that it didn’t match my mood as I flew down the road in my old Camry, the one I had insisted on buying with my own money that I saved up before I went to college. It was a piece of shit. It needed a new air conditioner and a new radiator and a new everything.
But it was mine.
I wondered briefly why I never saw my situation now the way I saw buying this car when I was seventeen, but I tried not to dwell on it. What was done, was done.
I only had my actions and choices now.
It was a little hard
er to breathe when I pulled through the gate at the end of my parents’ long driveway. I didn’t grow up in a house, I grew up in a giant, southern-as-can-be Tennessee estate. It sat on one-hundred-and-fifty-two acres on the north side of town, which was entirely too much land for a family of four. Of course, my father needed land to entertain — to shoot skeet, have a driving range and putter course for business talk, and, for some reason, horses. I never did figure that one out, since he wasn’t a rider, and neither was Mom, nor were Malcolm or myself.
And where Dad wanted the land, Mom wanted the large house. She wanted enough room to have servants’ quarters, where those who worked for her could live and be readily available. She needed multiple kitchens, dozens of rooms to house guests who were too inebriated to leave, and, as she would tell anyone who would listen, “Plenty of room for future grandchildren to have adventures and get lost.”
It was always too much for me. I’d felt suffocated in that massive home, and when I parked in the driveway next to the elaborate fountain, I found myself struggling for air once again.
I pushed through the front door without knocking, handing my coat and scarf to Larry — one of our butlers — before I made my way into the dining room. Mom lit up when she saw me, clapping her hands together, whereas Dad just barely glanced at me over his newspaper. Malcolm was there, too, but he was on his phone, and I was pretty sure he didn’t even realize I’d walked in.
“How nice of you to finally join us,” Dad murmured. “Sit. I’ll have Amada bring your breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry. Can we talk in your office?”
Dad waved a hand over his half-demolished plate, not taking his eyes off the newspaper. “I’m eating.”
“Looks like you’re done to me.”
“Mallory,” Mom scolded, in the sweetest, most unassuming voice. It annoyed me more than if she would have yelled at me. “You missed Christmas Day and now you won’t even eat breakfast with your family? What has gotten into you?”
Neat Page 23