Chapter Twenty-Two - Mirabelle
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Mirabelle
MOM’S LIGHT GREEN eyes are shining as she looks at Hunter after he sets his backpack next to the door. “Who changed my phone number at the school to Mira’s?” she demands, and I cringe, despite not being the one in trouble. Mom isn’t yelling, but her tone isn’t particularly pleasant either.
“I’m sorry,” he says, hesitating to meet her gaze. That doesn’t answer her question, and the frustrated exhale tells me Mom thinks the same thing.
“What is going on with you two?”
Hunter shakes his head, and my stomach drops. He’s not going to tell her. Hunter promised me he was going to tell them everything when we go home. “Nothing,” he says, confirming my thoughts.
“Bullshit. You can tell me now, or you can tell your father and I together. I can promise you I’m asking a lot nicer than he will.” She puts her hands on her hips, waiting for him to make a decision. Unfortunately, he makes the decision to stay silent.
Mom laughs in disbelief, turning to look at me for answers now. “Do you know?” Mom asks, using a softer tone, and I look at Hunter, giving him one more opportunity to come clean.
His eyes widen in panic. “Mira, please don’t ,” Hunter begs.
“You promised. I told you to tell them, or I would,” I say. I love my brothers, but Bailey is clearly working through something. I can’t keep this to myself. It’s not fair, especially when today has only made it clear Bailey needs some form of help.
“Bailey quit soccer.”
Mom’s jaw hangs open in disbelief. “He— what?”
“I don’t know why, or when he did it, but there’s something going on with him.”
“He’s fine,” Hunter tries to insist, shooting me a dirty look.
“No, he’s not, Hunter. If you care about Bailey, then you’ll tell Mom and Dad what’s going on,” I snap at him, fed up with whatever secret he’s trying to keep for our brother.
“Bailey’s right. Perfect fucking Mirabelle to save the day, like always. Just because you’re all buddy-buddy with our parents again after choosing your boyfriend over our family, doesn’t mean you can stick your nose into our business. You left, not us.”
Hunter has played the peacekeeper between Bailey and me so often that I’ve forgotten his words can be sharp enough to go for the kill shot too. I didn’t pick Henry over my family . . . did I?
“Hunter.” Mom gasps loudly, and I bite my inner cheek hard enough I can taste the blood on my tongue. “Give me your phone now, then you can bring all of your and Bailey’s electronics to me, because if I have to get them, I’m going to break them into a million tiny pieces.”
His face pales, and he ducks his head again, pulling his phone out of his pocket to hand it to Mom. “Yes, ma’am.” He walks past without looking at me.
Mom sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know what to say right now,” she whispers, but I don’t think she’s talking to me. Behind her, hanging on the wall, is a picture of the six of us before Dad’s last game. Our smiles are wide, and we look so damn happy. It’s crazy how different things are now, not even a year later.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but Hunter promised he would. I think Bailey needs help. I don’t know what is going on, but he’s not himself,” I admit. Maybe I should have said something before now. Regardless of how things were between my parents and me, I should have told them about Bailey.
It’s quiet upstairs, but Hunter returns with a basket holding all their things. He sets it on the floor in front of Mom, and I turn away, refusing to let him see how much his words impacted me.
Dad walks in from the kitchen with Henry behind him, and I feel tears prick my eyes when both of them look at me. Dad’s mouth immediately twists into a frown, and I can’t say anything, or I’ll burst into tears. This is such a mess. I mean, what the fuck?
“Lia?” Dad asks.
Mom starts speaking in French, explaining everything to Dad. My eyes are glued to Henry as he walks toward me, but his expression turns feral as Mom repeats what Hunter said to me. My bottom lip quivers, and Henry immediately tugs me into his arms, holding me close.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Henry practically growls, clearly having hit his breaking point for the day.
“Don’t, it’s not his fault,” I say, unable to help myself from defending Hunter, even after he gutted me.
“No, I think I agree with Henry on this one. What the hell, Hunter?” Dad asks, and I twist to remain under Henry’s arm, but Dad’s face is unreadable when I look at it.
Hunter shifts his feet awkwardly, still staring at the floor.
I hold my breath, waiting to see if Hunter will look at me, but my heart drops when my phone starts ringing in my back pocket. The ringtone I programmed specifically for Stacey breaks the silence. Seriously? She had to call at this exact moment?
It’s the worst timing ever, but a part of me is relieved to have a reason to escape the room.
“Sorry, it’s my boss,” I mumble, pulling the phone out of my pocket to retreat into the kitchen. I take a deep breath, clearing my throat to give myself a shot at sounding normal before answering. “Hi, Stacey,” I greet, trying to sound as chipper as possible. I can feel Henry right behind me, his hand brushing over my lower back in reassurance. He didn’t have to follow me, but I’m glad he did.
“Why does your voice sound like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re happy enough to be a Disney princess. I thought you had a family emergency, or at least that’s what Henry told me after tearing into my office like a madman to beg me to let you leave for the day,” she says, and my heart stutters in my chest.
He what?
“No, there is one. I’m just . . . this is my voice? I’m sorry, is there something you need me to do?” I ask, redirecting the conversation back to whatever reason she called for. I feel like she shouldn’t be comparing my voice to anything, but I guess there are worse comparisons that could be made.
“I was calling to ask you to remind Henry he still needs to post online about your relationship. Please look it over before letting him post to make sure it’s satisfactory,” she says, and I can hear how quickly she’s typing. She can multitask better than anyone I’ve ever met.
“I can do that,” I say, and in the background I hear a door open, and someone’s voice.
“Stacey, I couldn’t get ahold of the photographer, and—” Miley’s interrupted before she can finish. Stacey must have asked her to help get ahold of Jeremy, the photographer in charge of the next campaign that Henry is scheduled to be in for the team.
“Fine, I’ll do it myself. Here’s my dry-cleaning ticket, please go pick it up,” Stacey says brusquely, and I cover my mouth to make sure a sound does not come out of my mouth. “Are you going to take it, or just stare at me?” Holy shit. I would pay to see the look on Miley’s face.
The door shuts in the background, and at the same time, I hear Hunter’s voice getting louder from the foyer.
“Mirabelle, can I expect you back in the office tomorrow? You’re the only one who can apparently do their job correctly, and I need to know if I have to change what’s on tomorrow’s schedule,” Stacey says, and I think this might actually be the best part of this shitty day.
“I’ll be at work. Would you like me to call Jeremy and pass along a message?”
“No, I’ll make the call myself,” she says, and the typing resumes in the background.
“I’ll be sure to remind Henry,” I repeat, in case she didn’t hear me the first time.
“Mirabelle?”
“Yes?”
“I hope everything is okay with your family. I’ll see you in the morning.” The line goes dead, and I pull the phone away from my ear surprised. Does Stacey actually like me?
“What?” Henry asks, sliding his hand up my back, and I’m not totally sure what just happened. Henry begged her to let me leave for the day?
“Um, Stacey wanted me to remind you that you haven’t posted,” I say, and Henry groans.
“Shit, I forgot,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, tapping the screen quickly. “Do you need to see it first before I post it?”
I hear my parents in the other room, and I’m so drained. I inhale slowly, twisting my hair back into a low bun. “Does it have any nudity in it?” I ask and Henry shakes his head, still looking down at the screen. “Are both of us in it?”
“No. Just you. Do you think that’s okay?” he asks, looking at me unsure.
“I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t put any curse words in the caption, and it should be fine.”
“Sugartits isn’t a swear word, right?”
My eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
“Should I not have posted that?” he asks, as if not understanding the gravity of the situation. Stacey is going to take back every nice thing she might have said to me and murder me. Holy shit. “Mira, I’m fucking with you. I know better than to call you Sugartits online.”
I smack his arm as he laughs. “I can’t believe you.”
“I’m sorry, I wanted to try to make you laugh after everything today. Probably a bad idea,” Henry says, sliding the phone back into his pocket, the ghost of a smile lingering on his face.
A second later, my phone vibrates with a thumbs-up from Stacey.
What exactly did he post? It’s tempting to look, but I hear stomping on the stairs, transporting me back to reality.
I don’t know if I can go back in there. I don’t know if I have it in me to listen to Hunter and Bailey blame me for something I don’t even know I did because neither of them will tell me. It feels like I’m proving them right by wanting to avoid the situation.
No, I can do this. I love my brothers, and I’d do anything for them, even if that means putting myself in the line of fire again.
“We don’t have to go back in there,” Henry says quietly, reading my mind.
“They’re my brothers, Henry,” I say as if it should explain everything.
“And you’re their sister—not their punching bag.”
I look at him sadly, picking at my cuticles again, the flicker of physical pain easier to feel than the emotional. “I’m not sure there’s a difference.”