Chapter 10
10
RAINN
Mac stares at me, still waiting for an answer. It’s been a few hours since he first asked the question, but now that we’re in my truck driving the two hours to Blue Springs, it’s harder to put him off.
When I mentioned going to Mama Gladdie’s, he insisted on coming along. We both rushed home from his sister’s law firm to pack. Not that I ever actually unpacked. But this would take more than a day or two. I’d make sure of it.
My dad wasn’t easy to convince until I mentioned I was going to see Cher. It wasn’t a lie exactly, since Cher is currently staying at her mom’s. And I was in a give-no-fucks mood. Of course he reminded me we still have two weeks until school starts so he expects us back home before then.
“You have a sister.”
I counter his question with my own. “Is your mom upset that you left again?”
“She’s devastated,” he says and follows up with a fairly accurate portrayal of his mom. “You’re leaving so soon? This is our only time to see you.”
What would it be like to have your parents want to spend time with you? Instead of leaving. Instead of just wanting to control you? But I get it. Mac is still traumatized by his past—it was one of the things that brought us together—shitty parents. The difference is that his parents tried. Did better. Mine didn’t. And never would.
“You didn’t have to come, Mac.”
“Stop.” A rustling noise alerts me that he’s moving in his seat. And now he’s facing me with a frown on his face. “I wanted to come. Now, tell me about this sister.”
I watch the road. Blue Springs is on the outskirts of the Kansas City metro area, so it’s less than two hours to Mama Gladdie’s house, and I have no way of stalling him. I rotate my neck, trying to relieve the tension. This is Mac. “You’ve met Henry.”
“Henry—your brother Henry?”
“Henrietta—Hettie is my sister,” I say, my voice hard. “Is that going to be a problem, Mac?” I wait for the outburst. What are you? A boy or a girl? His words directed at Zye over thirteen years ago still haunt me. Words I never rebuked.
“Heck yeah, it’s a problem. Not that Hettie is trans. You kept this from me.” He slumps in his seat and stares out the passenger side window.
Don’t do it. Keep the peace. Make everyone happy. But I’m still in my give-no-fucks mood. “After what happened with Zye, can you blame me?”
He gasps, and I can feel his stare. “I was in a bad place then. I’m not…” He swallows loudly. “You never said anything.”
Shrugging seems like the only answer I can give without losing it. If I turn on the radio, could we drop this? Do I want to drop it? It’s been a long time coming.
“You know how I feel about apologizing. It’s pointless.”
“Yeah, okay,” I manage. What did I expect anyway?
“Not okay, Rainn. Don’t you dare push this under the rug along with all your other crap.”
I glance over at him. His face is set. His eyes intense. I nod. “Fine. It’s not okay.”
“Words are too easy to say. Actions are more difficult but true. I said some awful things to Zye when I was younger. I’m not that person anymore. Did I say anything mean to him during the wedding fiasco?”
“You weren’t friendly.” I risk a glance and give him a quick smile.
He laughs, erasing some of the tension in the car. “Yeah, well, he was trying to get you to marry Cher. Even when he knew it was a bad idea.”
“It was literally his job.”
“Didn’t mean I had to like it.”
Why does that warm my heart? “Now, you’re stuck with me.” The car gets quiet except for the thump of the tires on the road. “That was a joke. Casey will get back to us, and then we can…” I wave my hand because words are hard. Do I want to get divorced? Does Mac? Of course he does. How else will he find a girl to marry and live happily ever after with?
Mac turns on the radio, and I let him.
An hour later, we pull into Mama Gladdie’s driveway, and she’s on us before we even get out of the car. “How are my two favorite boys doing?”
Cher snorts from behind her. “I thought Miles and Zye were your favorites.”
“Hush now.” She pulls me into a hug, and I stare at Cher in horror. “Don’t listen to her, Rainn. I always liked you. You just weren’t good enough for my Cher.”
“Excuse me?” I rescue myself from her embrace.
“Weren’t right for my Cher, I mean.” She winks at me. “And now you’re a happily married man.” She smiles, and I swear she has hearts in her eyes.
I glare at my ex-fiancé. “I still can’t believe you told her.”
“If you think I can keep anything from my mama, you have not been paying attention.”
“Pshaw. Now be a dear and introduce me to your husband.”
“You met Mac at the wedding, Mama Gladdie.”
Her eyes glitter with…I don’t even know how to describe it. “I met your best man at the wedding—and I guess he still is your best man.” She, honest to God, winks.
“Nice to see you again, Mama Gladdie,” Mac says, rescuing me. He holds out a hand, but she pulls him into a crushing embrace.
“You are just the sweetest boy.”
I roll my eyes as Mama Gladdie leads us all toward the two-story farmhouse. Hettie sits in a swing on the large wrap-around porch. As we walk up the steps, she stands. Her red hair hangs loosely around her shoulders. She smiles, her eyes bright until she glances behind me. Then her smile drops.
I pull her into my arms for a hug. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too. Did you have to bring him?”
“He’s cool. I promise. Or I’ll hurt him.” And I mean it. I want to mean it anyway. I definitely won’t stay quiet this time.
She steps back, still holding on to my arm. Bracing herself. “Hello, Mac.”
“Hi, um, Hettie. Good to see you again.”
Just words? But he’s trying. I turn back to my sister. “What are you doing here, Hettie? I thought you were working in Edgewood over the summer.” Hettie goes to a college prep boarding school. And only returns home when forced to do so.
“It’s a long story.”
“And one better told over apple pie and iced tea.” Mama Gladdie leads us into the house, going on about the benefits of apple pie and broken hearts. Did Hettie get her heart broken? She’s only sixteen, but that’s a difficult age. Especially if you’re transgender.
The house is homey with a Southern charm. As we file into the kitchen, Cher grabs my arm. The others continue, with Mac raising his eyebrow in question. I give him a quick smile and focus on Cher.
She tilts her head and studies me. “I’m sorry. My mama can be a little pushy.”
“I remember.” It drove Zye crazy when Mama Gladdie tried to take over the wedding planning. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Uh-huh. Brave words. Remember this when she has Hettie’s, Mac’s, and your lives all planned out.”
“Is that an apology or a warning?”
“Yes.” She grins and follows the others.
The kitchen is huge. A typical farmhouse kitchen with all the charm and a large wooden kitchen table set off to the side. I pull out the chair at the head of the table and Mac shakes his head. He points to the seat on the left next to him. Once I’m seated, he whispers, “That’s Mama Gladdie’s seat.” I raise my brows and he nods at my sister. “Hettie told me.”
Hettie is across from me, avoiding my gaze. But her red eyes and sniffles tell me what I need to know. Someone hurt her. And that someone needs their ass kicked. Irrational, yes. But I can’t help it. Hettie is my half-sister, which doesn’t feel remotely true. She’s my whole sister, no matter what society and genetics say. I was nine when Belinda and Dad brought her home from the hospital, and I was glad to have another sibling.
When we each have a piece of apple pie and a large glass of iced tea, Mama Gladdie nods to Hettie. “Go on, dear.”
She attempts a smile and darts a glance at Mac. I place my hand on his leg—a warning to not react. And leave it there. He covers my hand with his and squeezes. And leaves it there. Huh.
“I don’t know where to start,” Hettie says, poking at an apple on her plate.
“Why are you here and not in Edgewood?” I ask, still not sure about that part.
“I got kicked out of school.”
“What? They can’t do that. Did you talk to—” Mama Gladdie holds up a hand, and I stop talking. Mac squeezes my hand again. “Sorry.”
Hettie sets her jaw and raises her chin. “I got an email from the headmaster. Since my parents refused to pay the tuition and I don’t qualify for financial assistance, I am no longer enrolled at Edgewood Prep Academy.”
“Why would they—” But I know. “They found out?” Hettie’s transition has been a well-kept secret. Mostly because our dad and her mom were too busy to care. As long as her grades were up, they didn’t question anything. Hettie didn’t come home often, and when she did, she mostly stayed in her room and avoided everyone.
“No one at the school ever cared how I dressed. How I identified. It’s a liberal area overall and I skated by. But some pictures from prom were posted on the website. I was decked out in a dress and makeup. Someone from Cedar Ridge found them and showed them to Dad.”
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Dad called me. He was furious. All I had to do was say it was a joke. For fun. That I’m still his”—she almost chokes on the word—“son.” Her eyes plead with me to understand. “I couldn’t do it, Rainn. I’m so tired of pretending.”
I squeeze her hand again. “Does he want you to move home and attend the local high school?” As a boy. But I don’t have to ask that part. Dad is all about control.
She shakes her head and sniffs. “It was right after the wedding.” She darts a glance at Cher. “The non-wedding. He said he was done with all the liberal-woke nonsense. I was obviously not his child.”
What the fuck? I deserve what I get since I failed Mom and Zye, but Hettie doesn’t. She’s a good person. Cares about everyone. Anger flares in me. No buildup. Just suddenly there, raging through me. I’m so done bending to his every whim. The urge to burn everything down is overwhelming.
“Hold on, Rainn,” Mama Gladdie says. “There’s more.”
“How could it get worse?”
“I called Grandma Joy.”
Belinda’s parents live in Maine, but we rarely have contact with them. “Why? Are you wanting to stay with them?”
“No. I mean, I’d rather stay in this area, but that’s not why I called. Mom sided with Dad, of course, but when he stormed off, she mentioned they set up a trust for their grandkids.”
News to me. “What did they say when you called?”
“I’m too young, of course. They never liked Dad. They blame him for taking their daughter away and putting hateful thoughts in her head. They’re mostly afraid he’ll get control of the money.”
“Can they take you in? Help provide for you?” I ask and instantly regret it. Her eyes fill with tears.
“They can’t chance it. He hates them just as much.”
She’s right. He would fight it. Make it all about him.
“They shouldn’t have to go through that. He can be…awful. Horrible.”
“What if they put me in charge of the trust? I’m willing to fight him.” And I am. More than ready. I glance at Mac, and he nods. Relief floods through me. Mac is still on my side. Even though it could make things difficult for him. For his parents.
“I asked. Unless you got legal guardianship of me—which I can’t see Dad agreeing to. Just to spite us both—he could still get control of the money. And you’re also dependent on him, Rainn. He pays for med school.”
Which brings us back to where we started. With nothing. “Dad holds the strings. The power. Fu—dge.” I glance at Mama Gladdie. She smiles, and it’s so bright and hopeful and knowing…what is she scheming?
“Hogwash,” Mama Gladdie says, tapping the side of my face. “You have the power now.”
“Mama—” Cher starts, but Hettie gasps, sitting up straighter.
“This could work, Rainn.”
“How?”
Mac pulls on my hand. “Would you cut off all contact with your dad if you could?”
The fury at everything: Zye, Hettie, even the way he treats me fuels my answer. “In a fucking heartbeat.”
“You’re very convincing.” He grins. “And you have the evidence to back it up. Millions of viewers watched you tell your dad he was no longer welcome at your wedding.”
“Too bad you’re not married,” Mama Gladdie says. The sly smile on her face and her twinkling eyes remind me that she knows. What are the chances she keeps quiet? Dammit.
Hettie doesn’t know about Mac and I getting married. It would bring up questions I don’t want to answer. Especially since Casey’s working on the annulment as we speak.
“We still have weeks before school starts. Let’s go to Maine.”
I stare at my best friend and husband . “You want to go with me?”
“Of course. What kind of hu—friend would I be if I let you go alone?”
“Great!” Mama Gladdie stands. “Let’s have more pie. And then we can get everything set. I’ve always wanted to visit the East Coast.”
“Mac and I are going alone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. I’m very convincing. And this involves Hettie.”
She gives Hettie a fond smile. I’ve always been a little intimidated and sometimes frustrated by Cher’s mom, but I can forgive her for everything—her nosiness, her meddling—because of the way she accepts my sister without question.
Mac clears his throat. “I have a question, Hettie. If that’s okay,”
She nods in agreement, but her body tenses. “Go ahead.”
He wraps a hand around his glass of tea. “How did you get here? To Blue Springs?”
“I took the train.”
“Okay, but…” He glances at Mama Gladdie and— oh, hell. I know where this is going. I didn’t tell him everything. “How did you know to come here?”
Everyone but Mac looks at me, including Hattie. And then Mac slowly turns his head and studies me. “Rainn?”
I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes, so I stare at the table. “When Cher and I were together, Hattie would come visit us here. When she was on break and not working.”
“That makes sense.”
I glance at him, and he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. The Kansas City metro area isn’t that big. Our apartment in Overland Park is about forty minutes from here, depending on traffic and the time of day.
He tries to hide the hurt, but it’s in his eyes. I should have trusted him. But the thought of choosing between my sister and my best friend… It was easier to not say anything. Because I'm a fucking coward.
“I’m not going,” Cher announces as she takes her plate to the sink. “My agent arranged for some influencer meetings so back to work for me. I’m with you all in spirit though.” She leaves the room, and I glance from the door to Mac. I need to talk to Cher, but I can’t leave things the way they are.
“Are we okay?” I ask in a low voice.
He takes a deep breath and nods. “We’re fine. Go on.”
After squeezing his leg, I excuse myself from the table.
I catch Cher on the stairway. “Can we talk?”
She rolls her eyes but leads me to her room. It’s just as I remember. Posters of pop stars on the wall. White furniture with a black and white bedspread. Girly but with an edge.
I sit beside her on the bed. It’s automatic. Do I still have that right? I start to stand, but Cher shakes her head. “You’re good. What’s up?”
“How can you be so nice? I was awful?—”
“God. Stop. I’m so fucking tired of having this conversation. I stopped the wedding. You hid stuff from me, and I’m still salty about it. But we weren’t together when you and Miles…you know. Sure, you could have told me about that. And that Zye was your brother. But it’s done. Over. And I get why you didn’t tell me.”
“Can you explain it to me?”
She laughs. “It’s simple really. You want to take care of everyone. Never hurt anyone. After meeting your dad. Jesus, I get it. And I think you loved me.”
“I still love you.”
“But not like—” She glances at the door.
“Not like you want?” I guess. “It’s hard to believe in true love when you can’t see it anywhere. Movies? Sure. But real life? Not so much.”
“What about Zye and Miles?”
I shrug. “It’s been less than two weeks. We’ll see, I guess.”
She nods. “Maybe marrying your best friend is the answer.” I glare at her, and she laughs. “Did you hear about the royal wedding?”
“The Lutianan royal wedding?” I haven’t paid much attention to it, but it was all over Instagram and TikTok. I’d seen pictures of the prince and his bride. Both hot as hell. “What about it?”
“It was supposed to be tomorrow, but it got postponed. They said the prince was sick, but I think they’re calling it off.” She shrugs. “Just helping you make your point. Fairy tales aren’t real. Love requires work from both parties. And it requires more of a connection than we had.”
“Thank you, Cher.”
She nods, biting her lip. “Are you going to try and make it work with Mac?”
My heart jumps at that. I lean back to look at her. “Mac is straight.”
“That man loves you.”
“As a friend. I would never do anything to mess that up.”
“Right.”
Unlike with Cher. But that was different, wasn’t it? I wrap an arm around her and kiss her cheek. “I don’t deserve you or your friendship.”
“You got that right.” Her eyes sparkle, and I’m reminded of how strong—and badass—this woman is. “But you’re stuck with me anyway. And you’re not bailing on the charity event. It was your idea, and Mama and Hettie would never let you live it down.”