Chapter 1 #2
Sloane came running up, black hair flying wild behind her, cheeks flushed with excitement and heat.
The summer evening had curled little tendrils around her face and neck, and the short denim skirt and crop top she wore showed off curves Marnie envied with everything in her.
Sloane dragged Emmitt Strain behind her by the hand, and he was holding a couple of small stuffed animals and a bag of popcorn, looking dazed and happy to be there.
“Man, that was awesome, Beck,” Sloane said, slightly breathless. “I couldn’t see the whole thing because Colt’s giant head was in the way, but you really mowed down those helpless wooden ducks.”
“Shut up, Sloane,” Colt said, but there was affection beneath the words for his cousin. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at his sister and Emmitt’s joined hands, and Emmitt paled and quickly let go when he saw the look on Colt’s face.
Marnie almost smiled. She already knew there was no hope for Sloane and Emmitt.
Emmitt played defense for the football team, but he didn’t have much of a spine outside of it.
Or much of a brain, if she was being honest. Sloane had both and she was destined for someone she couldn’t walk all over, someone who could match her fire with his own.
Sloane had always accepted Marnie’s gift.
Had never shared the things Marnie told her in confidence, never looked at her like she was strange or wrong or touched by something dark.
They were the very best of friends, had shared secrets the way girls do—crushes and gossip and dreams whispered in the dark.
But not all secrets.
Sloane suspected about her father. It was impossible not to when it sometimes took days for Marnie to recover enough to be seen in public, when bruises bloomed like poisonous flowers across her skin.
Sloane’s eyes asked unspoken questions, but Marnie had never confided the full truth.
It was a shame she kept close, locked away where even friendship couldn’t reach it.
Marnie often got clear visions of the people she was closest to, and she’d had several of Sloane.
She’d understood at an early age that the gift she’d been given wasn’t always meant to be shared.
That altering people’s decisions could change the entire course of their lives, could send them down paths they weren’t meant to walk.
The responsibility was heavy, a weight she carried alone.
And drawing attention to herself was the last thing she wanted.
Her father had gotten a call once from a research center in Denver, wanting to put her through a series of tests.
He’d told them no—not unless they were willing to pay, and they weren’t—and he’d beaten her for that too.
For being useless. For not being able to pay her own way in the world.
But she continued to see things. Continued to keep those things to herself, locked behind her teeth and buried in the silence she’d learned to perfect.
Sometimes the loneliness of it was overwhelming. A vast and empty space inside her that nothing could fill.
She knew she could trust Sloane, and in one of those moments of loneliness, Marnie had let it slip—Sloane had already met her future husband.
Sloane hadn’t been surprised by the news, had just grinned that wild grin of hers and said until he got some sense in his head, she could at least have a little fun making him suffer.
Marnie stood on the outside of the group now, observing the easy way the O’Haras and Beckett were with each other.
They’d never made her feel less than they were, despite the fact that their families owned the ranches her daddy worked for.
But she wasn’t like them. It couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d worn a sign.
They didn’t know what it was like to go hungry because there wasn’t enough money for food.
Didn’t know what it was like to wear shoes until they fell apart because there was no money for new ones.
Her daddy called her the rich kids’ trash sometimes, and mostly she didn’t feel that way when she was with them.
Mostly.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Marnie,” Sloane said, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Mama said you could spend the night if you want and she’ll make pancakes in the morning.
Blaze is home for a little while and he said he’d put up a new swing over the lake so we can jump in.
And maybe we can go to the movies tomorrow night.
That new Julia Roberts movie is playing if you want to see it, though I’d rather watch Bruce Willis blow things up.
But Emmitt will have to buy our tickets because it’s rated R. ”
“Do you ever shut up?” Hank asked, but his tone was fond beneath the exasperation.
“No, and this is an A–B conversation, so C you later.”
Marnie looked back and forth between the cousins and decided to jump in before they started arguing. O’Hara arguments had been known to last for weeks, grudges held and points scored in an ongoing war that somehow never damaged the love beneath it.
“I’m sure Mama won’t mind,” Marnie said. “It’ll give us a chance to study for the chemistry test too.”
Sloane’s eyes widened with theatrical drama and she put her hands on Marnie’s shoulders, shaking her gently.
“When are you going to start listening to me? Live a little, woman. You’ll ace that test no problem.
We’re in our prime.” She held her arms open and spun around, dark hair flying.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives for all that serious stuff. It’s time to have fun.”
“Very responsible, Sloane,” Colt said, shaking his head. “Thank God you’ve got Marnie to balance you out. I can only imagine the trouble you’d be without her.”
“She’s already trouble,” Jax piped in. “She’d be a complete disaster.”
Sloane turned on her brother, eyes flashing. “Shut up, Jax. Maybe you need to remember what I saw in the barn last week and that you owe me big-time.”
The images in Sloane’s head flashed like a broadcast through Marnie’s mind—vivid and immediate and mortifying—and blood rushed to her cheeks.
Jax and Colleen Walton in the barn, bodies tangled together in ways Marnie didn’t have words for.
She looked away quickly, trying to shake the image from her mind.
“Sloane—” Jax warned, his voice dropping low.
“Hey,” she said, shrugging with elaborate innocence.
“I’m the one who’s probably going to need therapy.
I’m just saying maybe you need to be a little nicer to me.
” Her grin was mischievous and completely unrepentant.
As the only girl in the pack of O’Hara boys, Sloane said it was her duty to give them grief at every opportunity.
“Come on, Hank,” Levi said, slapping his cousin on the back. “Let’s go grab a pizza and a beer. I’ve got better things to do than hang out with children.”
Since Hank and Levi were the only two old enough to drink legally, it was a definite insult to the others.
“I don’t know if I’d call Colleen Walton something better to do,” Hank said, elbowing Colt in the ribs. “It’s hard to tell the difference between her and a screech owl. Ever notice how every time you bring her to the house, the horses try to run into the barn and hide?”
“Or maybe they’re trying to get a front row seat,” Colt added with a sneer. “Everybody knows you two go in there to—”
“Colt!” Jax took a step forward, fist raised, and everyone took a step back.
The O’Haras fought more often than not, but to Marnie’s trained eye it wasn’t out of real anger. They seemed to enjoy it, actually. As if it were a sport, a way of showing affection that she’d never understand.
Beckett moved before fists could start flying, stepping between the two brothers with easy authority.
“This isn’t the place for a fight,” he said quietly.
“You’ll be hauled out by your ears before you get started.
And watch what you’re saying in front of the girls.
Mrs. O’Hara would skin you alive if she heard you talk that way. ”
That was probably the only threat that could keep them in check. Simone O’Hara was a force of nature when it came to keeping her children in line—and that included her nephews too.
Jax nodded and took a step back, the tension draining from his shoulders. Then he grinned and gave Hank and Levi a one-finger salute before they disappeared into the crowd.
Marnie could feel heat in her cheeks at their candid talk, but she tried her best to act like it was no big deal.
The truth was, she was terrified of sex.
Mostly what she’d learned about it, she and Sloane had overheard by listening in on her brothers’ conversations.
Her father had always said that only certain kinds of women enjoyed it, but Sloane said that was a flat-out lie and that she was going to enjoy it a lot when she was ready.
Marnie had never thought much about sex until the dreams started creeping in at night—Beckett’s face and his lips as he kissed her in the dark—only to be interrupted by the snap of her father’s belt as he punished her for having impure thoughts. Even her dreams were terrorized by him.
Sloane had talked her into borrowing the white cotton shorts and red top tonight.
The shirt stopped just above the button of her shorts and hung off one shoulder a little, showing the thin strap of the white tank she wore underneath.
She hadn’t been brave enough to go without it as Sloane had suggested.
She’d never felt comfortable showing much skin, but she had to admit the bold contrast of colors showed off the tan she and Sloane had been working on by the lake.
Her dark hair was thick and long and she’d braided it over one shoulder.
Her eyes were dark and enhanced by the mascara she’d bought, though Sloane said it wasn’t fair how she hardly needed it at all, that women would kill for lashes like hers.
The lip gloss had in fact plumped up her lips a little and they stung just slightly.
But she felt pretty tonight. Normal. A little more grown up.
She could never hope to fill out the outfit like Sloane could—the shorts bagged on her just a little—but they were still finer than anything she owned.
“Marnie,” Sloane said, getting her attention again. “Let’s head over to the House of Horrors before the line gets too long. I saw Justin Appleby earlier. He’ll ride it with you. He likes you a lot.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree there, Sloane,” Jax warned. “Trust me on that one.”
“Why can’t you just go away?” Sloane complained, pouting a little. “You ruin everything. I swear I’m going to find your adoption papers and prove you’re not really one of us.”
Marnie smiled. Sloane and Jax could’ve been twins, so similar was their appearance—black hair and piercing blue eyes shared by only a few of the O’Haras. Not to mention identical smiles that could charm their way out of any kind of trouble. And they were less than a year apart in age.
Bells and whistles went off from the games around them and the crowd increased in size as the hour grew later. The air smelled of funnel cakes and popcorn and summer heat. Someone jostled her from behind and she was pushed off balance, stumbling forward.
She felt a solid wall as her shoulder made contact and a hand came up to steady her, strong and sure. She looked up into clear gray eyes and watched the dimple flutter in Beckett’s left cheek as he smiled at her.
“Easy,” he said with a laugh, catching her before she could fall. “Though I have to say, I’ve always wondered what you’d feel like in my arms.”