Eight
I assume you’ll want your clothes back was the text message I woke up to the next morning. That and several missed calls from Mattie. I also had a WhatsApp message from Alex saying sorry and that we needed to talk. Really?
Even though there was no caller ID on that first message, I knew it was from Mason. Great, now he had my contact details and could torture me from afar. He must have taken my number from my iPhone whilst I was unconscious in his bed last night. The sly fox. I reluctantly saved him into my contacts under ‘Dickhead’
I re-read his message. Why did he have to be so condescending, couldn’t he have just said, ‘How are you feeling,’ or something nice like that? Even by text message, the boy wound me up.
Chewing my lip, I thumbed in. Please burn them. I don’t ever want to be reminded of where I was last night. Ungrateful of me I know.
Mason’s reply shot straight back which was a surprise, usually, boys took forever to respond to texts, but not this one.
That’s not very nice, considering I saved your arse. Don’t you even want your Converse back?
Drat, I’d forgotten about my trainers. I decided against replying as he was right. He had looked after me. I was now indebted to him and I hated that. Maybe I could make him a cake or something and then call it even? I managed not to laugh at that thought. Me, in a kitchen, was never a good thing. I almost set the oven on fire once. Maybe if I was lucky, he’d choke on one of my burned signature black bits.
I suddenly regretted my ungracious reply. From what I could remember through the haze of last night, Mason had been attentive and thorough, to the point where I’d felt cared for, special almost. When I’d undressed, he had been a complete gentleman. I wished I could take the message back, but of course; he’d read it now.
To put things into perspective and stop me from feeling like an ungrateful cow, I reminded myself of what had happened at the beach, and how he’d treated me afterwards. That hadn’t been so nice .
I pushed the thought of Mason’s hands down my bikini bottoms aside. It was one of those memories that just kept circulating, topping up my shame, and now I’d slept with him. Well, sort of.
After I had showered and brushed my teeth, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I then pulled on denim shorts and a pink T-shirt that said ‘You Wish’ on the front. After pushing my feet into my sliders, I set off for the kitchen. I was starving and needed food. Fortunately, my head didn’t feel too bad, but my skin was still bright pink.
As I entered the room, a huge hulk of a man stood by the sink with his back to me. His shoulder blades were flexing with what he was doing. Fucking Nixon McKenna! What the hell was he doing in my kitchen, tainting it with his man smell? Jenna was sitting at the kitchen table and had just finished breakfast. I felt shocked. Nixon could cook? Like me, Jenna couldn’t cook for shit. My sister glanced up at me with a smile. Not a shred of apology on her face after allowing her nightmare of a husband into our living space.
“Amy you’re very red,” she observed. No shit!
With sure feet, I walked into the room and dropped my phone onto the table with a clatter. The sound encouraged Nixon to turn around.
He really was a terrifying sight. Big, hard, and well-muscled, his arms covered with tattoos. He was wearing combat trousers and a black T-shirt, darkness encapsulated. My sweet Jenna sat at the table wearing a white dress, looking stunning as usual. She was pale, so feminine and soft; she almost didn’t belong in this century. Nixon and Jenna really were total opposites in every way.
“You should wear sun cream outside Amy, you look like shit,” Nixon commented with a flick of his head. I ignored him. Like I gave a crap what he thought.
“Did I just have a stroke or is there a McKenna in my kitchen?” I rattled moodily. “What the hell is he doing here?”
Those dark McKenna eyes of his narrowed dangerously at my choice of words and Jenna flinched at the harshness of my voice. Nixon McKenna could fuck the hell off, he didn’t scare me. And what the hell was he doing by the sink? Did he even know what it was? He was probably about as domesticated as me. Although he’d cooked breakfast, apparently . Miracles existed .
Nixon placed the dishcloth he held on the kitchen counter and leaned back against the sink; his eyes assessing as they roamed over my face. He looked mildly amused, which was a totally different expression from the last time I had seen him.
“That isn't very sisterly of you, Amy,” he said in that devil’s voice of his.
My spine became so rigid, it should have snapped in half.
“I don’t consider myself to be your sister, Nixon. I don’t consider myself to be your anything ,” I sneered, my voice dripping with disdain.
“Please Amy, don’t,” Jenna said weakly, looking like I’d just drained away all her joy. I watched as she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. I so hoped she wasn’t getting one of her headaches.
Deciding she hadn’t earned my sympathy, I shot her a scowl. “If Dad finds out, he’s been here, Jenna. It will kick the hell off again,” I informed her with a sharp look.
“He won’t find out and I’m only staying for the week,” Nixon cut in, taking control of the conversation, something he always did when I tried to reason with my sister. His face plainly showed just how much he disliked me. Yeah, well, back at you, buddy! With fucking bells on.
“You’re joking. One hour of your company is enough. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold down the contents of my stomach any longer than that,” I needled. My inner bitch gliding to the surface. My heatstroke was now long forgotten.
He watched me in brooding silence and Jenna fiddled with her wedding rings.
“Nice tee,” Nixon suddenly complemented, it lacked conviction. “I’m surprised by the wording, though.”
Looking down at the ‘You Wish’ wording on my T-shirt; I could feel his insult, even though it wasunspoken.
“Shouldn’t it say, The Jenna Taylor-Joy Appreciation Society,” Nixon drawled with a curl to his lip. My mouth dropped opened, I hadn’t expected that . My grimace was almost painful it was that strong.
“Nixon!” Jenna scolded sharply; her perfect brows drawn together. It was a unique look as she rarely got cross, especially with Nixon.
He raised his hands, “Just saying. ”
I folded my arms and hooked my chin on him. “So, what’s happening after the week? Are you fucking off overseas again? One can only hope?”
“Nope, Jenna is moving back in with me. Where she belongs,” Nixon drawled like the conceited ape he was. “I’m here to help her pack and we’re moving things over in stages.”
I looked at him like I thought he was full of shit, but my hands dropped to my sides in defeat. I felt like a balloon that someone had just stuck a pin in. “You’re out of your mind Jenna.”
She opened her mouth to reply but I cut her off, holding up my hands in surrender, “But I promised myself that I’d stay out of it. And I will.”
To be honest, with everything that had happened lately, I had my own drama to deal with.
Nixon was unimpressed by my revelation when he should have been happy. “I doubt you’ll be able to keep your nose out for long. Why don’t you try and get yourself a life and then you don’t have to try and take over your sisters.” His words grated along my nerves, fraying the edges of an already ticking temper. How dare he lecture me? It stung that he was right, until lately, I’d had very little to focus on.
“And, your father probably wouldn’t give a shit that I’m here. He’s come to terms that I’m Jenna’s husband. We’ve had an adult conversation now. When you grow up, you’ll be able to see what that feels like.”
“What about Mattie, what does he think about our little visitor?” The word little to describe any of the McKenna men was borderline ludicrous.
“He’s fine about it, Amy, he has his own stuff going on. Chrissy is fine too. She was quite happy for us.” Jenna replied. Yeah, whatever, the little suck-up.
Nixon itched his jaw before saying, “Mattie’s seeing someone now. So, he’s concentrating on his new relationship. Surely, you’re aware?” he sneered. His words took a beat to digest and I barely held my anger back. Was he suggesting that he’d known my brother was seeing my boyfriend behind my back? The bombshell hit me like a wrecking ball.
I glared up at him whilst trying not to lose my fucking mind. Nixon’s expression was all out patronising and I wanted to smack him in the face but Jenna cut in .
“Nixon, that’s unfair,” she whispered with a sad look.
He didn’t like that he’d upset her and he apologised. I almost swallowed my tongue. “You’re right love. I apologise Amy.” His sorry didn’t necessarily go as far as his eyes but it would do. I didn’t give a shit about what he thought he knew anyway.
Jenna started to wring her hands together, something she did when she was nervous. “Look, I’ve invited Nixon to stay with me, Amy. Please respect that and play nice,” she said, her doe-like eyes searching my face. She had her hair down and looked so beautiful. She really did brighten up the room. And at that moment it was thoroughly needed with a McKenna giant standing there, draining away all the light with his man bulk.
“ Play nice , with him living here? I’d rather eat my own eyeballs,” I spat. My fury had doubled in the space of seconds.
Nixon shoved off the sink and took a step forward, “That can be arranged,” he growled across at me. His shadow was magnified on the floor, like something from a horror movie. Those tattoos of his screamed rough fucker. What on earth did Jenna see in him, the guy was perfect serial killer material. Either that or Rambo.
I didn’t consider his words worthy of a response but I went with, “Up yours,” and retreated from the threat of his towering body to the refrigerator, taking out some juice. My appetite had left with my knowledge of his presence.
“I’d really like it if you guys got on you know, especially now Nix will be staying with us for a while,” Jenna whispered as I turned to face her and undid the fresh orange. I chugged it directly from the carton like a proper pig. Airs and graces could do one in the vicinity of the shit that was Nixon.
He rolled his eyes dismissively and turned back to his task. He was only washing up to score brownie points with Jenna, fucking kiss ass.
“We may go swimming at the pool later,” Jenna suddenly said. “You could come with us?”
I snorted, “You don’t swim,” I pointed out. My voice sounded crueller than I intended.
Jenna shuffled in her seat and shot a look at Nixon’s back, “Nixon is teaching me. ”
I snorted, “That’s rich considering he almost drowned you once.” Last year we had been at the pool and Nixon had thrown Jenna into the water. He hadn’t known she couldn’t swim at the time, but it had still been a shitty thing to do.
“I can actually take my feet off the bottom for a bit now,” she informed me, looking adoringly toward her husband.
A point which annoyed me, “Well good for you both. I’d rather swim with a crocodile than a McKenna,” I bit out childishly.
I finished off the juice and then put it back into the fridge even though it was empty. Yes, I was in brat mode. If Jenna had somehow twisted our father around her little finger and Nixon was off his shit list, I’d make sure he would rue the day he decided to stay with us. I had all sorts of pranks up my sleeve and I could be a pain in the arse to live with. I wondered how much torment I could carry out in a week. Enough to get Nixon McKenna running, possibly not.
I reminded myself about my decision to not get involved.
My phone buzzed again which dragged my thoughts back to Mattie and Alex. What a shit show. I didn’t want to face either of them, but it would be more straightforward than locking horns with Nixon. And at least I’d found out about Alex before any real feelings had developed. I’d liked him, but there had been no love involved. I was a tough nut to crack and didn’t fall hard easily. There was, however, the embarrassment factor when everyone else found out. My boyfriend was gay and was banging my brother. Great.
“We’re having a party next Saturday with both families coming together, Amy. This silly rift was started by our grandparents and carried on by Mum and Dad, and it needs to stop.” Jenna explained with her face in concentration mode.
A get-together with the McKenna boys. I welcomed that bit of information like a fucking toothache.
“Fine, I’ll just make sure I have somewhere else to be that day,” I volleyed back.
Turning back toward us, Nixon snorted and Jenna cut in, “Please don’t be like that.”
“And what do your parents think about you being here and mixing with Taylor-Joy scum?” I said directly at Nixon. I knew they had gone to a retreat or something but it would be interesting to hear Nixon’s reply to that question .
He dashed a hand down his face but I read his expression like a book; and not a very good book either; Treat Them Mean, Keep Them Keep, a fucking First Edition.
“They’re out of town,” he replied in a bland voice.
I felt a bit bad at that point, bearing in mind Mitchell’s condition. I pushed the sympathy aside. Thinking about McKenna boys on our property, eating food and drinking our booze made me want to nip myself, so changing the subject, I said, “Have you seen Mattie this morning?”
“He tidied up after last night and then said he was going to the butchers in town.”
There was a beat of silence as I pondered Jenna’s words. “We missed you at the BBQ last night. Where were you?” and a jet of adrenalin steamed into me like a fucking freight train at her question.
“Yeah, that’s an interesting one. Where were you last night Amy?” Nixon delivered turning back and folding his huge arms over his obscenely wide chest. I could see the message in his eyes. Boyd would have said something about me being at their house last night I was sure of it. Damn it. He probably thought I was shagging one of his brothers. I remember he’d said I dressed like a tart once.
“Amy?” Jenna prompted gently, her bright eyes probing my face. I frowned at her subtle interrogation.
It suddenly felt like I was being cross-examined and I didn’t like that one jot.
Clearing my throat, I couldn’t breathe, it was like someone had stolen all the oxygen from the room.
Nixon’s mouth curled. You only think you know buddy! They’d probably all made shit up about my reasons for being there already and I daresay Mason wouldn’t have clarified anything. That fucker answered to no one, not even his brothers.
“You came in mighty late, Amy,” Nix announced, scratching the stubble on his jaw. I imagined it would feel rough against your face, I was surprised Jenna didn’t get beard burn.
Heat plumed across my skin and with a resigned sigh, I huffed, “It’s none of your business.” My words sounded much bolder in my head. A sense of foreboding started to uncoil inside me .
Those lips twisted and he winked. He fucking winked at me! I wanted to hit him in his washboard stomach, even though it would probably shatter the cartilage in my hand.
“If you say so,” he goaded.
I sucked in a breath, “I’m walking to the village. If you see Mattie, please tell him to call me.”
“Why don’t you learn to drive so you can use the car your daddy bought you? Instead of leaving it there gathering dust.” Nixon needled.
“Fuck off,” I threw back.
“You’re such an ungrateful little bitch,” Nixon grated out between clenched teeth.
With a quirk of my head, I shot him my best ‘couldn’t give a shit’ face and the two-finger salute. I then retrieved my phone and stuffed it into the back pocket of my shorts before showing them all my back.
“Amy, please.”
I heard Nixon say, “Leave her Jenna, she’ll come around.” He said the words with conviction but in a gentle tone. Nix treated Jenna like she could crack in half at any moment.
“She’ll come around,” I huffed to myself. Really? It would be a cold day in hell before that happened. I would never accept any McKenna into my life. I pushed the image of Mason’s perfect face away. I didn’t like how it had started to make me feel or any reminder of what had happened at the beach. No matter how amazing it had felt. His kindness toward me could also do one.
I checked my phone on my way through the front door and onto the porch. It had vibrated about a million times whilst I’d stood in the kitchen with the World’s worst fucking newlyweds.
The messages were from Alex and that feeling of betrayal came back.
Anger surged through me as I stomped down the steps of the porch with a little more force than was necessary.
Can we talk? I’m so sorry you had to find out like that.
Worrying my lip, I thought about how best to reply .
As I was thumbing in my text, the distinctive throaty roar of Mason’s truck sounded along the main dirt road. It was a right-of-way section which ran to the main road from both farms.
I glanced up from my phone and watched as it rattled toward me along the stones and mud. The piece of shit was louder than my dad’s oldest tractor.
Quickly, I moved to the side of the track so he wouldn’t run me over with his car. Something he’d probably dreamt of doing.
Mason had the passenger window rolled down, his fingers were curled tightly around the steering wheel and oh my God, those fingers… I batted the thought off quickly.
My eyes narrowed. Neither of us spoke and I watched as he released one hand from the wheel, bent over and then threw something at me.
It was a carrier bag, luckily, I caught it before it smashed me in the face.
I glanced down, it was all my stuff, including my shoes and my mouth dropped open but no sound came out.
His expression was unreadable but he didn’t look overly happy and he revved the car and moved to push it into gear. Ready to make his move.
My hand shot out to ward him off and catch his attention. I had to make this right.
“Mason,” I shouted forcefully to be heard above the growl of the engine, dropping my hand, and stepping toward the passenger door. He took his foot off the throttle and shot me an impatient look. He wasn’t going to make it easy for me.
“I’m…” Fuck me, how hard was it to say thank you to this person.
His mouth twisted in distaste and he gave me a look that should have frozen the words in my mouth. Instinct warned me to proceed with caution. Would he throw any thanks back in my face? Swallowing my foolish pride, I took a deep breath and did the right thing.
“Thank you,” I said quite desperately.
He misunderstood and shrugged dismissively, “I thought you’d want your Converse back. Especially that pair, they never seem to leave your feet.” He responded in a calm, giving nothing away tone.
My forehead scrunched and I took another step forward, shaking my head, “No, thank you—well, I mean, yes thank you for my clothes but… thank you—for looking af ter me last night. When I was sick.” My God, I sounded like a stuttering imbecile. Why was it so fricking hard?
His expression softened fleetingly before that stern mask was pulled back in place.
He revved the car twice before stating, “See, that wasn’t that hard was it, Brat?” His narrowed gaze gave me shivers, his reply was like a kick in the teeth and I saw a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
Before I could speak, he jammed the car in gear again and it shot forward as he drove off, showering me with a cloud of grit.
I could see him watching me through his rear-view mirror and I stepped into the middle of the road, feeling sad.
Why did I suddenly feel such an overwhelming urge to cry? Why was this situation any different? We had been at daggers drawn for years. We brought out the worse in each other. It was what we did.
So why did I not like myself just then?
As Mason’s truck disappeared out onto the main road, I pulled the carrier tighter against my chest. Mason had known that this pair of Converse were my favourites. When had he started taking so much interest?
I pushed away that strange storm of thoughts that was threatening to break, maybe I still had heatstroke. I certainly didn’t feel like myself.
Last night there had been a truce between us and now we were back where we started.
So why did the thought of that now make me feel like shit?
*****
After taking my stuff back up to the house, I set off down the road again. I ignored Alex’s message, I felt that I needed to deal with my brother first.
I still felt slightly ropey after the heatstroke and so I kept to the shade where possible. The sun wasn’t as blazing as it had been the day before.
Mattie was already in town and had texted to say he was in Crawley’s Butchers replenishing the meat that he had cooked at the BBQ the night before. Although not back for another few weeks, my dad always knew exactly how much meat there was in the freezer.
I agreed to meet him for coffee, not something I did often as I wasn’t into hot drinks but I opted for a Pepsi and Mattie went for a latte.
We sat at the back of the café and it was quiet, Sundays usually were in the village. Mattie was sheepish when I joined him at the table. I could tell he was embarrassed, well so was I!
“So, spill. How long have you been shagging my boyfriend?” I questioned. I got straight to the point, I’d seen my brother’s hard dick at the end of the day, there was no beating about the bush.
“It isn’t like you think?” Mattie began in his defence. His words shocked me, he surely wasn’t going to try and deny it.
“So, you’re not fucking my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend now I suppose.”
“No, I mean yes. What I mean is, it isn’t like that. We’ve liked each other for ages but I thought he was straight.”
“So, who made the first move,”
“You probably won’t believe me but neither of us really. It just happened.”
“Really, you just woke up one day and thought, I’ll stick my dick in Alex. Assuming you’re the giver,” I snapped.
“Don’t be vulgar Amy, it doesn’t suit you.”
A long awkward silence dragged between us and I knew from his expression that he was hurting. I didn’t like it and I certainly didn’t want to be the one to cause it.
“I just wished you’d come to me first Mattie. You’re my brother . You could have told me how you felt. To be honest I’m not that shocked Alex turned out to be gay. He wasn’t exactly the most touchy-feely boyfriend.”
“I should have told you, I fucked up. Please forgive me, forgive both of us.”
“Just don’t ever hide shit from me again or that’s it. You’re lucky I’m not calling Mum and ratting you out.”
There was a heavy pause as Mattie sipped his drink, “So, what about Alex?”
“What about him?” I said, puzzled.
“He wants to see you, to apologise. ”
Well, fuck me. “I’m not ready to see him to be honest. It’s still hard to process. You can tell him that I forgive him, forgive you both. Feel free to see where this thing goes between you, but I don’t want it in my face. Not until I come to terms with it.”
“I get that totally and thank you, Amy. Again, sorry you had to see that,” Mattie whispered, his voice full of regret.
“Me too brother. That picture will probably be drilled into my memory for the rest of my life,”
“God, I hope not.”
I managed a half smile, “Me too.”
The atmosphere then lifted between us. What could I say, I was the bigger person in this scenario. I was a huge fucking grudge bearer, but not where my family were concerned. I stored all those up for the McKenna boys.
Mattie explained that things had changed and become flirtier between him and Alex once they’d gotten into gaming together. A perfect excuse to see each other and do stuff that was still considered guy-like. He didn’t go into detail about when the sexual side of things crept in there and, to be honest, I was thankful for that.
What did hurt the most was the fact that all my family had known about Mattie and Alex, even Chrissy FFS! That had been the reason for that off atmosphere at dinner when I’d been leaving for supper with Alex at The Windmill. They’d all known and now thinking back to what Boyd and Mason had said that same night, I was the only one who hadn’t got it. Like I was like some stupid naive girl with no gaydar whatsoever! No wonder Alex always looked amazing.
We discussed Jenna and Nixon. Mattie appeared to be cooler with it than me and I felt a bit betrayed, like Nixon was working some type of voodoo magic on them like he had on Jenna. No doubt Mattie was pleased Jenna had a distraction, so he could carry on with his sneaking around.
I was boyfriend-less and I felt like a total loser, so I decided that I’d gather the girls, I needed a night out. Maybe clubbing. The thought of pulling a stranger was totally growing on me.
The only mind-blowing sexual experience I had so far was with my enemy, and I knew I had to change that and fast. I couldn’t let what Mason had done to me have a lasting effect to the point where that was all I had to refer to. Yes, he’d known exactly how to touch me, but it was straightforward stuff. Although so far, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to that level of excitement. I’d had a fool around, but I didn’t really know what I was doing. Embarrassing and utterly pathetic I know. Betty was much more in tune with her body than I was with mine.
When I got back home later, Jenna and Nixon were in her room. I was pleased that they stayed up there, to be honest. I didn’t relish Nixon McKenna infecting my favourite places in the house with his man presence.
I’d hardly seen Chrissy lately and hadn’t a clue where she was hiding.
It was like we were ships in the night since my parents went away.
I decided to text her and invite her out. She was underage but with makeup looked older and had been able to get into the club in town since last year. She loved clubbing but my mother didn’t like her going out.
As they were away, there was no stopping us. I would have arranged for us to go out that following Saturday when Jenna and Nixon intended to play happy families with their shit party. But I knew I’d get it in the neck from everyone if I attempted to bail, so I suggested the following Monday after the weekend. Monday was student night and loads of bars offered happy hour.
I texted Chrissy. She had been staying with her friend Daniella who was going through some boy drama and needed support. I also messaged Jenna (who probably wouldn’t be allowed to come). I also texted Betty and my cousin Wynter as I’d missed her at yesterday’s BBQ. Mattie had mentioned when we met for coffee that all she’d talked about was her step-siblings, Jackson, or Jaxon something and Molly who sounded like a right bitch. I felt sorry for her and wanted to give her an excuse to come out with us.
We’d go into Norwich to The Union, one of the classier establishments. It was expensive and therefore that cut down on possible riff-raff clientele. Only members of our village’s elite could afford it and let’s face it. I was their Queen.
One night stand, here I come. I just had to get through another week of work without any further drama or run-ins with the interloper Nixon or his brothers .
And that included Mason with his come-to-bed eyes, rock-hard body, and talented fingers.
Something twisted inside me and then tightened. I wasn’t going there again, no way!