Mr. Persistent (The Bonded Brothers #2)

Chapter 1

Maddie—Age Sixteen

Nate—Age Seventeen

January

Maddie Grace

Why would my parents think this is a good idea?

Quickly, without them noticing, I narrow my eyes at my brother in bewilderment, wondering if he had anything to do with the bomb being dropped.

When the look on his face tells me he is just as surprised as I am, I’m more confused than ever.

How could my parents even afford to send me to camp up north?

My brother Mason attends only because he was offered a football scholarship. That’s how you know it’s fancy…when they hand out scholarships for a sleep-away camp.

I slide the brochure across the table, back toward Daddy, who already has a scowl of disappointment plastered on his weathered face.

“I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m not sure camp is for me. That’s more Mason’s thing.”

“Now you listen to me—”

Mom silences Daddy with a hand on his arm, always the one to calm his short temper.

“Maddie Grace Cunningham, your daddy and I accepted this generous donation from our church family to give you the same worldly experience your brother has had. Now, your brother might’ve been blessed with his God-given talent to throw a football down the field farther and prettier than anyone else in our great state of Georgia, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want you to have the experience, too.

We thought you’d appreciate your birthday gift. ”

Daddy grumbles something under his breath, most likely to do with me spending the summer up north with the Yanks. Lord knows he wouldn’t be too happy about it.

“I wish someone had spoken to me before asking the church for help. Couldn’t the money go to someone who truly needs it? Haven’t you seen the news lately? The women’s shelter has been packed every day of the week.”

Daddy stands, and I know that look. It’s the one I would typically run from. But I’m not backing down.

I don’t feel right taking the church’s money to frivolously spend the summer horseback riding and sitting around bonfires only so my parents feel like they treat me equally.

Newsflash: they haven’t treated me equal to Mason since the first football left his hand.

Before Daddy can speak, Mason chimes in to defuse the situation, “Don’t you want to spend time with me before I leave for college? We could hang out all of July and part of August before I leave for team practice.”

He’s got to be kidding me. I know what camp entails for him.

Mason spends a lot of his time in a completely separate area for athletes who train in clinics, then hangs out with his friends and whatever girl of the summer he picks.

Like when he talks about what he’s done with Jennifer, and Maggie, and Stacey, and whoever else he let hang off his arm that day.

Ugh, gross.

I know I’ll be beside myself once my brother leaves for college, leaving me here with my parents. So, any time I get with him, even for a short time, would be better than nothing.

And I think he knows that. But still…camp…is not for me.

I swallow down the lump in my throat when the emotions of my brother leaving choke me up.

He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, the one person who makes living in this house bearable.

My parents, well, at least Mama, love me very much. Daddy’s debatable, but I’m not sure he has it in him to love anyone. He’s too cold and closed off.

But love doesn’t make it any easier to live with someone, especially when you don’t see eye to eye with their old-fashioned, controlling ways.

I have dreams and aspirations.

They want me to marry the pastor’s son, live in our small town outside Augusta, Georgia, and give them eight grandbabies.

When I decided I would never be a cheerleader, almost sending my mama into an early grave, I knew then and there that if I didn’t get out of here when I graduated high school, they’d have my whole life set without one ounce of my input.

I turn my attention to my brother, who patiently waits for me to answer. “I’d love nothing more, but we both know you’re busy, and I’d be stuck with a group of people I don’t know, doing things I don’t want to do. You’re the outgoing one, not me.”

“Yes.” Mama perks up. “You need to broaden your horizons, Missy, and when the church goes out of its way to make it happen, you extend your gratitude.”

“But, Mama—”

“Don’t you backtalk your mama, young lady. You say thank you, and you thank God you have people in your life that wish you well.”

My shoulders drop, defeated. “Thank you, Mama.”

Happy birthday to me.

Thanks for making another decision for me without asking.

“You’re welcome, baby. Now go finish cleaning your room. We leave in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I close my bedroom door behind me, restraining myself from taking out my anger on it and slamming it shut. Instead, I fall face-first into my bed, letting out a cry of desperation.

For once, I would like to make a decision about my own dang life.

The only reason I got out of cheerleading once I was in high school was because I may have used the pastor’s son to my advantage. Spinning a tale so he’d tell his daddy, my calling was in academics, and I’d never be able to focus with the rigorous training schedule of a cheerleader.

In return, I promised to be his date for his junior prom that year.

He’s two years older than me, and his prom was the year I entered my freshman year of high school.

He didn’t need to know that Mama already told Pastor Paul, without my consent, that I’d be attending.

Besides cheerleading, I can’t remember one thing I’ve decided for myself.

I wanted blonde highlights for my sophomore year, but somehow, I left with a bob and bangs. Thankfully, my hair grows fast, and that look is long gone.

Sage green walls in my bedroom? Not my choice. Neither was my canopy bed, which I detest with a passion.

But there is no fighting Mama. It’s either “Yes, ma’am” or “Thank you, ma’am.”

She bosses around Daddy, her sisters, and her mama. The only person who has a say in this family is Mason.

The prodigal son.

I sit up, lean against my headboard, and wipe the tears of frustration I let slip.

This summer, I was supposed to focus on my portfolio, so when I begin applying to colleges next year, I’ll be well prepared for every interview I'm invited to for the architecture programs.

“You okay?” Mason enters my room without knocking.

“Did you know?”

He shakes his head. “They didn’t even mention it to me, but I thought you’d be happy. I like having you nearby.”

I cross my arms, annoyed. “I don’t want to go, Mason. I don’t want to sit around the fire and sing ‘Kumbaya’ with strangers.”

“All you talk about is getting out of this town and away from our parents. Here’s your chance.” He sits beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“Tell me…when will I have the chance to build my portfolio? You know that Mama snubs her nose at the idea of me being an independent woman, and being an architect means precisely that. I need to hide my work at all costs. The summer would have been the perfect time to start my future. With her and Daddy at work during the day, I could really focus on myself for a change.”

He sinks lower in the mattress and lets out a defeated breath. “I’ll figure something out, Madeline, I promise. I’ll have supplies sent to camp for you so you can work on what you need to.”

I turn toward him and take a good look at my brother.

He’s the best person in the world and I literally don’t know how I would do life without him. If he weren’t there for me, life would be a lot more suckier, that’s for sure.

“I love you.”

He knocks my shoulder and smiles. “I know.”

“Jerk.” I smile for the first time all day. “Say it back.”

He throws his arm around my neck and puts me in a headlock, ruffling up my hair with his other hand. “Ahh. Mason, are you crazy? I just did my hair. Stop.” I laugh out loud. “I’m going to pee my pants,” I wheeze, and he backs off and then pushes me back onto the mattress when he gets up.

“I just want to make sure you remember who’s in charge.” He pauses at the door. “I love you too, and Madeline?”

“Yeah?” I sit up, breathless, swiping the hair out of my face.

“You won’t understand until you’re there, but you’re going to realize this summer will change everything.

I didn’t get it until the first time I went.

I was just as na?ve as you. But you’re going to get a taste of the freedom you’ve dreamed of, and realize all your dreams, the ones you have of becoming a famous architect who builds skyscrapers in New York City, are going to come true, and opportunities for people who are determined and hardworking are endless.

You’ll meet kids our age who live all over the world, and for the first time in your life, you’ll feel alive.

” He pauses, staring at me for a moment like he’s trying to ingrain every word into my mind.

“Who knows, it might be the best summer of your life.”

He closes the door before I can comment on his very mature speech, then I flop back over, looking up at my bare ceiling, and take in his words.

The best summer of my life.

Yeah right. There’s no way.