14
I pull up the drive of my parents’ place that I grew up in, a two-story white and weathered beach house. Salt and crushed seashells infiltrate my senses, bringing childhood memories all wholesome and happy, yet my natural joy is smothered by enduring anguish. There’s a hole in my stomach that I cannot fill, and being here where unconditional love lives seems to broaden that gap rather than shrink it. Nausea stirs as I walk to the front door, the weight of the whiskey bottle dragging my shoulder down.
I’m over an hour late, to be precise—and I deliberately didn’t check my phone because there would be messages of anguish wondering where I was. God, I hate myself sometimes.
Stepping onto the front deck, I see the house seem strangely quiet and still. Max’s truck is parked up the drive, and another vehicle I don’t recognize, possibly one of Dad’s friends, and my parents’ cars are in the garage. So, everyone is here, but I wonder if they’ve gone for a walk on the beach.
I step inside the house into the shadowy coolness of the foyer, which is refreshing on my hot skin, and catch the muffled sounds of animated chatter. They’re on the deck overlooking the beach, and the scent of charcoaled steak indicates they’re on the barbeque—or, more accurately, Dad is manning it since that’s his domain.
Taking a deep breath, I stroll down the hall to the kitchen and stall at the sight of a man standing at the kitchen bench with his back turned to me, pulling the leaves off corncobs. He has short brown hair, is a little taller than me, and wears blue board shorts and a white T-shirt. I don’t recognize the man immediately until his head turns slightly to the right, and I can see the periphery of his face.
My heart slams against my ribcage as my warm, sunburned body turns icy cold. I have three choices: leave, pretend I don’t recognize or confront him.
I choose to confront him. Why the hell not? Since he’s number two on my list, I may as well find out where he lives, so I end his life like I’m about to end Lyons.
“What are you going here?” I ask him boldly and venomously. I call him The Pig because he’s a cop and left town after he and his friends raped and tortured me. What I don’t understand is why the fuck he is here now in my parents’ house on my dad’s birthday?
He turns slowly around with a smirk on his face, and I want nothing more than to shoot that fucking nose off his fucken face to leave a big fucking bleeding hole that even Smiler would be proud of.
“Rae?” he says with a smirk as those vicious eyes become slits in his skull and run all over my body, forcing my fists to clench in angry bundles. He glances at his wristwatch and taps it with his finger. “You’re late.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss, aware that my family is only a sheet of glass away, sitting at a table laden with delicious food.
“I was invited,” he answers, stepping toward me. I immediately feel threatened and step away.
“By who?” I ask, dumbfounded. Glancing at my family through the window, I wonder who he is connected to.
“Your brother, Max. We’re business partners,” he states slowly and deliberately.
“What? His landscaping business,” I gasp in horror. Max said he had a business partner, but I didn’t know it was this fucker. “How did you meet?”
“Back in Torres Island and caught up again about a year ago,” he explains, placing the corn on the tray and then winks at me, making my stomach turn. “Small world, huh?”
He walks out onto the deck, and my fury burns so deeply inside that I retreat to the bathroom and down the hall to take a breather before facing my family. How the hell did this happen? Of all the places to move to, The Pig moves by my family and collaborates with my brother. I’m scratching my head, wondering if this is a strategic setup or a pure coincidence. At least he’s not a cop anymore because killing a cop is on a different level from killing a citizen in the law, even a revered citizen such as Lyons.
While patting my face with cold water, I calm my beating heart with deep breaths to compose myself. I can do this. Just stay for a couple of hours, play nice, then leave. But, fuck, at least I’ve found some extra ammunition to use against the asshole.
A slight tap at the door pulls me out of my thundering head, and I call, “Busy.”
“Rae, it’s me,” a sweet little voice chimes.
I smile as love fills my heart. “Who’s me?” I tease.
“Ronan, your brother,” he explains, then lowers his voice so Max can’t hear, “your favorite brother.”
I tip my head back and laugh. “I’ll be out in a sec, Ro.”
“Okay, because I need to show you my new bike,” he states enthusiastically.
“Only if I can take a turn riding it,” I exclaim.
“It’s big enough for you,” he tells me. “It’s green.”
I swing the door open, and Rory falls into my arms in a bear hug. “Wow, you’ve grown,” I say as I rough up his soft hair with my hand, noticing that his head reaches the top of my shoulder.
“Because I made to eat vegetables,” he screws his face up. Oh yes, the old housewife’s tale is that kids must eat their vegetables to grow bigger.
“Hey,” I say as we walk towards the kitchen with my hand on his shoulder, “who’s that guy here?”
“You mean Gavin?” he asks.
I suppress a cringe before answering, “Yeah, why is he here on Dad’s birthday?”
He shrugs his narrow shoulders, “I don’t know. He just turned up to drop off some beer, and Max invited him to stay. Max has a new girlfriend.” It”s a quick subject change, but I’m happy to go with the flow.
“Oh? Is she here?”
He nods. “All boring grownups.”
“Well…it’s a good thing I’m here,” I state, taking a deep breath when I spot my mom out on the deck smiling proudly at a woman my age, who I assume is Max’s girlfriend. I pause to stifle the pain at seeing Mom so familiar with this woman, patting her hand and laughing as if they’ve known each other for years. “We can’t have grownups cramping your style.”
Stepping out onto the deck into the warm breeze sailing off the ocean, there’s a raucous “She’s finally here!” before Mom and Dad rise to hug me. It looks like I wasn’t missed because someone else has taken my place at the table, bringing relief and grief. Max’s new GF can be the daughter my mom never had.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I announce and hand my dad his birthday present, the bottle of Famous Grouse Scottish whiskey, which he graciously accepts. Then I spot a half-empty bottle of the same whiskey brand on the table, and embarrassment floods my cheeks. “Oh, someone else got you the same brand.”
“That one is from me,” Max’s girlfriend answers, placing her hand on her chest. “And I’m Hannah, Max’s girlfriend.”
“I’m Rae,” I return.
“I know.”
Dad pipes up to cool the intensity, “C’mon, Rae, you know I have no problem consuming both.”
There are no chairs, so I step back inside to grab a chair from the dining table. Glancing at the time on my phone, I count down to when I announce it’s time to leave. Unfortunately, Gavin, the prick, shifts his chair over to give me a space, and if no one were watching me, I would’ve rejected him. But because I don’t want to make a scene, I move my chair next to him and avoid his eye.
“This is Gavin,” Max states, “Hannah’s brother.”
Now I know the connection between The Pig and Max’s new GF. “We’ve already met,” I snap, and Max frowns in confusion and opens his mouth to scold me when Gavin butts in and says in a slimy voice, “I don’t remember meeting you before.”
Anger boils beneath my skin, and I have to use every ounce of strength not to punch him in the face. I clench my jaw to stop speaking out and turn my attention towards Dad, who’s now back at the barbeque cooking the corn on the cob.
Gavin adds quietly, “You must’ve confused me with someone else.”
Okay, so this is the game we’re going to play? Fine. I have no problem ignoring him for the entire day.
“We knew you’d be late, Rae,” Mom yells down the table, “because you have to travel so far, so we told you 1 pm and everyone else 2 pm.”
“And she still turned up late,” Max points out, and his girlfriend smirks. I feel so out of place in my childhood home, as if outsiders are replacing me. Wait. Aren’t I supposed to be happy about this? Isn’t this what I always wanted?
“Can I get you a drink, Rae?” Gavin asks politely, and I glance at the faces of Max and Hannah opposite me. I see smirks and mischievousness in their eyes as if they’re plotting my demise. Yuck. They’re hoping Gavin and I might hit it off. My stomach turns. I’d rather die than let that man touch me.
“No, thanks,” I answer without looking at him and turning my body away from him towards Dad at the barbeque. I would never drink a beverage he made me for fear it was spiked.
“Rae!” Rory bellows my name from down on the beach, sitting on his brand-new bike. This is my escape from the shithead next to me.
“Rory!” I call back, rising from my seat to run down the wooden steps to the small fenced garden and the gate that opens onto the beach.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Mom calls after me as I run down the stairs, feeling my heart open up to freedom the further away from Gavin and my family I go. “Have something to eat first.”
“I’ll come back,” I assure her. I fly through the gate onto the sand and immediately flick my flip-flops off, burying my toes in the warm, soft sand.
I can feel Gavin watching me, so I lure Rory further down the beach past the neighbors’ trees that block his view and begin to plot what excuse I will use to leave early. If I can handle it, I’ll stay for another hour, maybe two, and then leave.
“Let me have a go, Ro,” I tell Rory, and he climbs off the bike. I might be a terrible daughter, but I’m a great big sister, and I’ll spend most of my time here with Rory having fun.
Riding on the sand is difficult, and I keep skidding and lose my balance, almost toppling off. Usually, this would send me into laughter, but a brick of acidy nausea sits in my stomach, pulling me out of the moment with Rory.
“I’m hungry,” he finally says after about twenty minutes.
“I bet you’ve been eating all day,” I tease, giving back his bike and wiping my sweaty brow with the back of my hand. As we walk back to the house, impending doom descends at not wanting to see Gavin again. “How long has Max been dating Hannah?”
“Um, I don’t know. A few months, I guess,” he answers, showing his lack of enthusiasm for the conversation. I can hardly blame him because most adult conversations, even for me, are incredibly dull.
Last time I was here, Rory begged me not to leave, but this time, now he’s older, he seems to accept that I have a life elsewhere if you call squashing aphids and cleaning up a bloody mess left by a hitman and his crew.
As the house comes into view, I spot Gavin leaning over the balcony with a glass of beer, gazing at the ocean. I close one eye and pretend I’m raising my handgun, but it’s probably too far away to strike him. I’d need a long-range rifle for that. Maybe Blake could get one of those on the sly and teach me how to shoot it. Hey, why not become a sniper? Now, that’s unrealistic, but one can fantasize.
Once back on the balcony, I grab a plate and toss potato salad, coleslaw, and sausage. Then, I lean against the railing by the barbeque, away from Gavin, to strike up a conversation with Dad.
“Are you staying over?” Dad asks.
“No, I need to leave before dark as I have an early start tomorrow in my job,” I lie, and I suspect he knows I’m lying but doesn’t pull me up.
He glances back at Mom, chatting with her new daughter, Hannah, and Max, and points his thumb at her. “What don’t you invite your mother down to Torres for a girls’ weekend sometime? She really misses you.”
I sigh. “Maybe when the school term is finished.”
“You could at least be a little more enthusiastic,” he grumbles, annoyed. He doesn’t understand my attitude and why I prefer to be aloof from them. I’ll never tell them the truth, so it has to be this way for a while.
“Yeah,” I mumble, ripping the meat off a chargrilled steak with my teeth and humming at the taste as Rory joins us. “This is great.”
“Dad’s the best at the barbeque,” Rory chimes in, stating the obvious.
“I agree,” I add, smiling at Dad while ignoring the sadness on his face at losing a daughter and confused by the distance I’ve placed between them and me. I wish I could tell him that they did nothing wrong, and it’s grief and anger that I must work through. But that would mean raising the subject of my attack, and I can’t bear to do that yet. They don’t need to know the details, and they don’t need to know that one of the men who harmed me is standing on their balcony having a friendly chat with their oldest son.
“I do my best,” Dad proudly states as the sadness behind his eyes vanishes and is replaced with a tiny sparkle. “Grilling the perfect steak is an art form acquired from experience.”
Mom smiles from the table, and I return a smile. Then, naturally, when anxiety stirs, I check the time on my phone, quickly noting that there are no messages for me. I wonder what Cormac is doing today? The elite swimmers train for 6 hours per day, 3 hours in the morning and another 3 hours in the late afternoon, but there are several hours in between that he needs to fill in.
After last night”s drama, I imagine him spending the day with his father. Although I’m unconvinced, his excuse to leave had anything to do with Gabe and everything to do with Blake/Black, or maybe it was Blank contacting him.
“Wakey wakey,” Rory says, tugging on my arm. “You were a million miles away, and I was trying to talk to you.”
“Sorry, Ro, I’m concentrating now.” I apologize, hug him, and cringe when Gavin’s narrowed eyes drink me in. A million miles away feels like a good place to be right now.