Chapter Fifteen - Mirabelle
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mirabelle
I PULL UP outside my uncle’s house feeling my insides twisting with nerves telling me to run in the opposite direction. I would have done this last night after the Puppy Bowl, but it lined up with JJ’s first game, so I stayed in to watch the game with Emily, Wilson, and Henry. The last thing I want to do this morning is have this conversation, but I have to talk to my brothers. Uncle Owen invited me to breakfast, but I declined that invitation for everyone’s sake.
My family is staying at Uncle Owen’s for the weekend since our house is still considered a crime scene, and he loves to show off his home. I don’t blame him, it’s beautiful, but I’m ready for construction to start on our house.
I’m pushing the fire out of my head to focus on the problem at hand. I haven’t thought it through too much, but my plan for the moment is to pull Hunter outside and call JJ so we can get to the bottom of this. I think if I try to bring Bailey into the conversation, he’ll lash out worse than he did yesterday.
This is so not going to be fun, but I also know Bailey is more important than the fight going on between our parents and me.
I use my code on the door handle to open it, walking in hesitantly. I push away every thought telling me it would be easier to leave before anyone sees me because I’m certain everyone already knows I’m here. My uncle probably received a notification when I entered the neighborhood.
Uncle Owen is wearing an apron with “Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’”written across the front, which would normally make me die of laughter if I weren’t already on the verge of a fucking anxiety attack. The quiet chatter in the room stops as everyone sees me, and Mom’s eyes widen in shock. “Mira?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Uncle Owen walks over and ruffles my hair. “You’re not interrupting. I invited you, but I am highly offended you didn’t compliment my apron.”
I crack a smile, pushing his hand away. “You know, maybe you’re not as good looking as you think you are if you have to remind everyone all the time.”
“She has a point, Owen,” Blake chimes in, her laughter the only one filling the room.
Yeah, this is awkward. Normally, a poke at Uncle Owen’s vanity is the quickest way to lighten the mood. Apparently not today.
“Can I make you a plate?” he asks, motioning to the spread on the counter.
“No, thank you. I had a protein shake earlier,” I say. I feel so anxious right now, I’m not sure I’d even be able to finish a single bite.
“Wait, Mirabelle—” Mom stands from her seat at the bar, and Dad looks . . . well, I’m not sure how he looks. I’m afraid to look too closely because I think the disappointment I’ll find there might send me over the edge.
“I’m only here to talk to Hunter,” I say, hating that her face falls. It’s not my fault. They have all the power in the world to take back what they said.
Hunter chooses that exact moment to make his presence known, walking up the stairs from the basement with Kaitlyn. I hold my breath to see if Bailey walks up behind them, but he doesn’t. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad sign.
Hunter looks at me, probably wondering what I’m doing here since I told him I wasn’t coming. “What’s wrong with everyone’s faces?” he asks, and Kaitlyn’s face lights up when she sees me.
“Mira! Is Henry with you?” she asks, looking around, but her smile fades. “Never mind, I hope he’s not,” she mumbles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Kaitlyn, will you please come eat breakfast with us?” Chris asks, and I’m honestly a little impressed by the look she gives him.
“Did you invite Henry for breakfast?” she asks defiantly, and I bite my lip to hold back a laugh.
“Kaitlyn, we talked about thi—”
“No. You talked about this. If Henry’s not here, then I’m not hungry.”
As amazing as this is, I would prefer to not stay here all day. “Hunt, can we go talk?”
“Anything sounds better than staying in here,” he says, dragging a hand through his blond hair. I’m glad we’re both in agreement on that. I hope Hunter has answers to the questions I have. I follow my little brother as he walks outside, keeping my eyes trained on his back.
Stepping out of the house, I breathe a long exhale of relief. “Thank fuck, I can breathe again,” I say, rubbing my chest, but I still can’t get rid of the anxiety plaguing my body.
“Yeah, maybe a heads-up next time you change your mind about coming over. I would have eaten first,” he says, frowning as his stomach grumbles. “What’s going on?”
I look back at the house, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “Where’s Bailey?” I ask, and Hunter’s entire body stiffens. Okay, well, now I know for sure he knows something is going on.
“He said he was hanging out with some of his old friends,” Hunter says, fidgeting with the chain around his neck.
I press JJ’s contact, and he’s quick to answer since I gave him a heads-up. “I have never been more grateful to be an early riser with how often you forget the time difference between us. How is Operation Get Bailey To Talk going?” he asks, and if he were next to me, I’d probably punch his arm.
“JJ, you texted me before I was awake this morning. That’s your own damn fault,” I say, shaking my head.
“Whatever. How’s it going?”
I look at Hunter who is literally looking anywhere but at me. “Well, Bailey’s not here, but I’m with Hunter, and you’re on speaker.”
“Hey, dude, I meant to text you yesterday, but I streamed your game on Friday, and it looked like you got some good snaps in,” JJ says, and Hunter shrugs, shifting his weight. It’s crazy how he got all his height from Dad, whereas I’m short like Mom.
“It was okay. Weird playing without you, but I’ll get used to it,” Hunter says.
“Yeah, I feel the same way,” JJ says, and I clear my throat impatiently. “Sorry, we can talk about Bailey now. I don’t have anything new. He’s been declining my calls and texts since the fire, but I still try every day.”
I give Hunter the opportunity to chime in, but he says nothing. Fine, I’ll talk. “I talked to Bailey yesterday at the stadium for a couple minutes, and I’m worried. He wasn’t himself. He basically told me to go back to my perfect life and fuck off because he doesn’t need me anymore.”
“Woah, that’s . . . awful.” JJ exhales, and I watch Hunter who is still finding the ground more interesting. “Hunt, have you noticed anything?”
Hunter shrugs, kicking at the ground. “I mean, he’s been a little off lately, but he’ll be fine.”
“Off how?” I ask, and Hunter shakes his head, a pained expression filling his face.
“He’s my twin. I’m not going to rat him out.”
Yes, you fucking are.
“Is it soccer?” JJ guesses before I can.
He drags a hand over his face, groaning. Clearly, he isn’t happy with whatever is going on, so I don’t understand why he’s keeping quiet. “He quit soccer,” he finally admits, and my stomach drops.
“What do you mean he quit soccer?” I ask, now a lot more fucking worried than I was at the beginning of this conversation. Bailey loves soccer. He would never just quit. Bailey was right—I haven’t been there for him.
“He asked me not to say,” Hunter explains, and I take a seat in one of the patio chairs, my mind spinning.
“Say anything about what? I can’t believe you knew he quit soccer and you didn’t tell us, Hunter,” JJ exclaims, and I tap my foot anxiously. This is bad.
“Look, if he wanted to talk to you guys about it, he would have picked up the phone when either of you called. This isn’t my fault,” Hunter defends himself, and I shake my head.
“No one is saying this is your fault, but you need to tell us what’s going on. He wouldn’t quit soccer,” I reason, trying to stay calm, but that pit of anxiety is growing again, and now isn’t the time to explode.
“It’s not any of your business.”
JJ scoffs. “It absolutely is our business. We look out for each other. That’s what we do, so since you’re the only one with any information, feel free to share it.”
“JJ, take a breath,” I warn, looking at Hunter who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. I bet if I turned around, our entire family will be hovered in the windows trying to figure out what’s going on. “If you won’t tell us, then maybe we need to get Mom and Dad involved.”
“No, you can’t.” Hunter’s head finally snaps up to look at me, his eyes wide. “You’re not even talking to them right now, but you’re going to walk in there and blurt out that Bailey quit soccer? That sounds like a great idea, Mirabelle,” he replies sarcastically.
Honestly, it’s not the worst thing that’s been said to me the last few weeks. I let it roll off my shoulders, even if it stings. Bailey is my focus right now, not everything else.
“Hunter, that was a low blow,” JJ snaps.
“It doesn’t matter. Please tell us what’s going on so we can help,” I say calmly, hoping he’ll tell us before things get worse. I know they have a special bond being twins that I can’t relate to, but I don’t understand why he isn’t more worried about Bailey.
I can see Hunter considering it, and I hold my breath as JJ thankfully stays quiet on the line. I think we finally got through to him.
But my stomach falls when he shakes his head. “I can’t. You don’t get it, Mira. Just let it go. This is something he needs to figure out on his own,” he says, walking back into the house before I can stop him. I was right, though. Kaitlyn, Penelope, Aunt Blake, and Uncle Owen are hovering in the window, but scatter quickly now that I’ve seen them.
“Hunter, we’re not going to le—”
“He walked away,” I interrupt, sighing softly.
“How did I not know Bailey quit soccer?” JJ asks, and I’m asking myself the same damn thing.
“Because the Bailey we know, would never quit soccer,” I say, pressing my fingers to my temple. I didn’t get much sleep last night, agonizing over yesterday and how this was going to go, and I’m definitely paying for it with a monster-sized headache.
“What else did he say to you yesterday?”
“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t about what he said—it was the look in his eyes and the anger in his voice when Bailey spoke to me. He didn’t look like our little brother in that moment, and it scared me.”
JJ doesn’t say anything, because there’s not anything to say.
Behind me, I hear the creak of the back door swinging open, and I turn to see Chris approaching. Awesome .
“JJ, I’m so sorry, but I gotta go. We’ll talk more later, okay?” I say, hanging up before Chris can hear our conversation.
“Can we talk?” Chris asks, and I motion to the seat next to me. “Hi, Mirabelle.”
“Hi.”
Fuck, this is awkward as hell, and all we’ve said is hi. I can tell Chris isn’t comfortable either, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “How’ve you been?”
Am I supposed to answer this honestly? “I’ve been better. Did my parents send you out here?” I ask, and he chuckles, but I’m not sure what I said warrants laughing?
“No. They didn’t send me out here, but I know your dad wanted to come talk to you.”
I know he didn’t say it to hurt me, but it still feels like a knife to the heart. At least Mom got up to talk to me earlier, but Dad sat there staring at me. “Then why didn’t he?”
Chris smiles sadly, spinning the wedding ring on his finger. “Because he’s not proud of how he reacted, and he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing that will push you further away. It’s a scary thing having kids, Mira, especially when they’re old enough to make their own decisions.”
I wonder if by telling me this, it’s Chris’s way of trying to explain how he’s been treating Henry.
“They’ve never had a problem with me making my own decisions before. They’re not listening to me.” Which I’m sure he already knows as my mom’s best friend. “It was my decision, Chris.”
Chris exhales, the chair creaking with his shifting weight. “It’s more complicated than that. It’s that he’s five years older than you, six after his birthday next month. Henry knows better.”
And it dawns on me there might be another reason why Henry won’t kiss me— other than him not being attracted to me, but come on, how could he not be attracted to me? It’s all the role models in his life telling him that it’s wrong, including his own father. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.
“I’m sorry, but it doesn’t matter what his age is because I’m not a minor. I’m a consenting adult, as is Henry. There’s no reason for you and my parents to be treating Henry like he’s some kind of criminal when he’s not,” I insist stubbornly. Chris stares at me for a minute, contemplating my words before a small smile breaks the hard line his mouth had previously been set in.
“You sound so much like your mother right now.”
It makes my heart bloom with happiness more than I’d like to admit. My mom is amazing when she’s not looking at me and my boyfriend like we’re huge disappointments to her.
“He’s not a criminal, kiddo, but that still doesn’t make it right. Don’t you want to date someone your own age? He is in a completely different point of his life than you are. How is that fair to either of you?” he asks me, and I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly.
“You’re still not getting it. When have I ever been able to relate to people my own age? I’ve been treated like an adult since the day I started competing globally. How many times did my parents leave me alone in different countries with my coach because they trusted that I would make the right decisions without them there because of Dad’s schedule?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. “The answer is more times than we can count on our hands together. I like Henry, and he makes me happy. I hope I make him happy too, but that’s what you should care about. I want to see where the relationship can go, but it’s difficult when we’re being lectured by the people who are supposed to love both of us unconditionally.”
“Mirabelle—”
I stand up abruptly. We’re going around in circles, and I have places to be today. “I love you, Chris, and I love my parents, but you’re all so fucking wrong about this. Dad’s right. He shouldn’t be proud of how he reacted. And you? You have no idea what your son is going through right now. He doesn’t need this on top of it.”
His face shifts to a look of concern, and I know I immediately took things too far. Shit. Henry is going to kill me. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I can’t mention the team wanting to trade Henry. I’m not sure what Uncle Owen has and hasn’t told them. Fuck, why did I open my mouth? “He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders from the amount of pressure he puts on himself. And, for the record, before criticizing us about our relationship, you might want to have a conversation with your ex-wife.”
Chris’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “Allison’s calling Henry?”
Yeah, it’s time to go. I absolutely shouldn’t have said that. I grab my phone off the table and briskly walk toward the house, realizing now that I probably should have gotten confirmation from Henry that the Allison Price whose calls he’s been declining are actually from his mother, but now I definitely know they are. I hate seeing Henry upset every time it happens, and after, he usually disappears to go to the gym, hides in a book, or sulks in the pool.
Fuck, I’m going to have to tell Henry about this. Maybe if I ask Uncle Owen nicely, he’ll slam my head between the front door and the frame around it to put me out of my misery.
Penelope is packing a container of food as Uncle Owen and Aunt Blake stare at me. I can’t believe I came here this morning. “Wait, will you take this to Henry please? It’s some of his favorites,” she says, pushing the container into my hands.
“Yes, sorry, I have to go. I’ll talk to you guys later. Love you,” I blurt out, securing the food in my hands as I make my break before Chris can catch up to me, especially after I hear the door open behind me.
“Mirabelle, you can’t say that and run away!”
Oh shit. He sounds pissed, but I’m hopeful it’s not directed at me. Why did I open my mouth?
My dad unfortunately chooses that exact moment to step into the doorway, effectively blocking my escape path as I bounce off him. I bobble the container, quickly securing it against me before it can hit the floor and break. He stares at me for a moment, and I see all the physical similarities we share. This might be the closest we’ve been in terms of proximity since that day at the field, but I’ve never felt further away from him. He looks above me where Chris has narrowed the gap between us.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you really are your parents’ kid,” Chris swears under his breath, despite the fact we can both hear him. “How long?” he asks behind me, and Dad’s silent gaze shifts back to me.
“How long what?” Dad asks, and I gauge the gap between him and the doorway to see if I can slip through it.
I bite down, choosing silence which is what I should have done in the first place.
“Allison’s been calling Henry, and I want to know what else Mirabelle knows about it, but she ran off after dropping that bomb. Fucking spitting image of her mother at this age,” Chris says, and I can confidently say, I never want to be on the receiving end of that tone again. God, my head is pounding.
Dad blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting Chris to say that. “What? Why wouldn’t he say anything if she was?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you accused him of statutory rape,” I reply without thinking, causing my father to visibly flinch.
Good. He should know how awful that is.
“Mirabelle, you don’t know the situation. How long has Allison been contacting Henry?” Chris presses, and my temper flares.
How dare he say I don’t know the situation? Up until a minute ago, nobody even knew there was a fucking situation to begin with.
“ Monkey, je sais que les choses sont difficile entre nous en ce moment. C’est vraiment important, ” 20 Dad says, and I feel tears burn in my eyes at the use of my childhood nickname. He hasn’t called me that in years. I used to climb anything I saw, and after giving my parents enough heart attacks, they enrolled me in gymnastics.
I blink rapidly as my insides feel like they’re being ripped in two. The logical part of me insists that he’s wrong and owes an apology to me and Henry, but the emotional part longs for my dad to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay.
I look closely at him, noting the sadness lingering in his eyes and in the aging lines of his face. It’s the type of sadness that appears after talking about his family.
“Je ne sais pas.” 21 The truth slips quietly out of me, and he tenses, clearly not believing me.
I use this as my chance to escape, because if I don’t, then I’m going to throw myself at Dad for a long hug and I’ll probably tell him everything.
I make a beeline for the doorway, not sparing a second look toward my mother walking into the kitchen because I know that if I do, I’m going to break down.