5. Lumber
FIVE
CHARITY
The bed dips, dragging me into the center of the mattress against my will. My head bounces off something pointy, and a soft grunt of pain slips from my lips.
“Oh, so you are alive!”
Prying open sleep-crusted eyes, I squint at the inside of the comforter I’ve pulled over my head. The events of last night filter into my conscious mind, making me groan again. Theodore Grady would have a magic fucking tongue. Asshole. And what was with that Daddy shit? Was he kidding?
It sure didn’t feel like he was kidding. Jesus Christ, why do I kind of hope he wasn’t kidding? I have never, ever, in my life considered “Daddy” to be anything other than borderline creepy. But last night...fuck. It was hot.
“You would be the first person to die in a horror film.” Dane drags the covers away from my head, causing unfiltered sunlight to attack my poor, unsuspecting eyes. I swear I closed those blinds before I went to bed.
“I would outlive you, shithead.”
Dane makes an amused sound, pushing me off his arm with a huff. “I made so much fucking noise, and you slept through it all.”
“You didn’t?—”
“I was talking to you,” he raises his eyebrows to stress the point further. “And you weren’t answering. I thought you died.”
I mumble something that’s meant to be a defense of my actions, but it comes out sounding more like a garbled plea for darkness as I pull the covers over my head to cut off the offensive sunlight. The blanket is ripped away a moment later, slipping through my fingers before I can get a better grip on it. “What the fuck?”
“Get up, fuckface. I brought breakfast.”
“I hate you.”
“I got coffee.”
“I love you,” I amend, forcing myself to sit up on the bed.
Dane is still fully dressed in his all-black clothes from the night before, sprawled across the bed with his feet hanging over the end of the mattress. He quickly rolls away from me, dropping off the far side before popping into a standing position with entirely too much energy for this early in the morning. “You’ve got three minutes before I eat the cheese danish I brought you.”
I’m in and out of the bathroom in two minutes flat, my nose leading me toward the kitchen like I’m chasing visible scent trails. Dane is sitting in one of the matching chairs around his table, phone in one hand and a to-go coffee cup in the other. There’s a half-eaten pastry in front of him, but I spot an untouched danish and coffee at the seat across the table.
“You actually brought breakfast.”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“I just,” clearing my throat, I sink into the chair opposite him, reaching for the still-warm coffee. “I guess I keep forgetting you’re an adult.”
“I suppose that’s fair. This is your first time home since I moved out.”
I nod slowly, picking at the edge of my pastry. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around more, Dane.”
“It’s too early for this conversation, Cherry.”
“Don’t call me?—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts me off, a piece of his danish hitting me in the brow when he flicks it across the table. “I’ll stop calling you Cherry if you stop getting sentimental. You got out, and I didn’t. It is what it is; there’s no need to talk about it.”
“What?” My eyes cut to Dane’s face, examining the intentionally blank look he’s put on. “What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means something. If you want out, you could?—”
“I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t. Leave it, Charity.”
“Why couldn’t you?”
Dane sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t know either, do you?”
“Know what?”
“You never wondered how you got out without anyone coming after you?” Dane gives me a disapproving look. “You’re a Legacy, but you were able to leave Forest Falls. That didn’t sit funny with you?”
His words chew through the thin layer of protection I’ve built around the part of my mind that has always wondered how I got out—how I’ve stayed out of Forest Falls. “I’m a woman.”
“You think being a woman saved you?” His scoff is harsh, a derisive sound that splits the air between us. “You think Mingus MacAlister suddenly went soft on women? After what he did to his wife? You’re not an idiot, Charity.”
A shudder runs through me at the reminder of Amalie MacAlister. She was kind, always talking to me like one of the adults, even when I was a child. She told me once she’d wanted daughters, but God had blessed her with five healthy sons. The way she looked at her husband when she said those words has stuck with me my entire life. It was as if she was saying two things at once, and I was just too young to hear the second thing.
She died a few months before I left for Paris. Mingus killed her and hung her decapitated head in his home as a warning to any traitors within the MacAlisters. If he could do that to his wife, to the mother of his children, what do you think he would do to you?
“How did I get out, Dane?”
He opens his mouth, but the sound of his phone vibrating against the wooden tabletop cuts off whatever he’s about to say. I can’t see the name lighting up the screen, but the change in Dane’s demeanor gives me a pretty good guess it’s someone involved with the MacAlisters.
“I have to take this.” He stands, moving toward the bedroom with quick steps and leaving me alone with my thoughts.
How did I get out?I didn’t think about it at the time because I assumed I would move back as soon as I was done with art school. Then, I came back to the States and just... didn’t go home. I stayed in Florida with friends I met in France, then moved to the West Coast for a job at a gallery that eventually led me to New York. In the early years, I expected someone to drag me back home. I even thought they might come for me in the “and she was never seen again” kind of way, but nothing happened. No one jumped around any darkened corners or appeared in my home at night.
I’m just finishing my danish when Dane strolls back into the dining room. He changed clothes while on the phone. The soft grey sweatshirt and dark blue jeans look more comfortable than his earlier outfit, but they aren’t exactly pajamas. “You sleep in jeans now?”
His laughter is a warm embrace after the seriousness of our conversation before. “No, fuckface. I’m not sleeping today.”
“Why not?”
“We’ve got a job to go to.”
“We do?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. What job could I possibly have in Forest Falls?
He smirks at me, moving toward the kitchen to throw away his empty coffee cup. “Go get ready. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”
“You’re really not going to tell me what we’re doing?”
“I’m really not.”
Dane takes us into the heart of Bray Forest, a twenty-minute drive from his apartment on the edge of Forest Falls. We pass through the quiet, unassuming town of Bray Creek with little notice. Despite sharing a border with Forest Falls, nothing ever happens here.
We eventually reach a driveway where I see two men installing security cameras at the top of a massive wrought iron gate. One of them is hanging from the top of the gate by his knees, fiddling with the camera. At our approach, he turns his head just far enough for me to realize it’s Lachlan MacAlister. I haven’t seen him since he was a child, but his dirty blond hair and sharp blue gaze are undeniable. Those cold eyes lock on me before his face breaks into a crooked grin, and I’m forced to admit that, even upside down, he’s grown into a wickedly handsome young man.
“Hey, Mads,” Dane calls toward the man on the ground as he approaches our car. His dark hair and broad shoulders make him and Lachlan seem like opposites, but their eyes mark them as brothers. Maddock bends enough to look through the window, a familiar smile spreading across his face when he recognizes me.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Charity Lawson.” Maddock rests his tattoo-covered arms on Dane’s windowsill, hunching enough I can see the tattoos on his neck continue beneath his shirt collar, covering his entire chest.
“Hey, Maddock,” I reply with a slight raise of my brow. “How are you?”
“Better than I was yesterday,” he admits with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “What brings the two of you to this part of the woods?”
“Callum called,” Dane explains, leaning back in his seat to look up at whatever Lachlan is doing on top of the gate. “He said you guys needed help with cleanup.”
Maddock turns in time to see his brother drop to the ground behind him. Shifting to the side, he lets Lachlan saunter up to the window.
“We already got the bodies, though I’m convinced we could have been more thorough in their disposal.” The way Lachlan trails off makes me think he’s imagining all the ways they could have been more thorough. “You must be Charity.”
“You don’t remember me, Lally?”
Lachlan smiles brightly at his childhood nickname. Turning toward Maddock, he loudly whispers, “She called me Lally.”
“You’re an idiot, and she’s off limits.” Maddock huffs, pushing Lachlan out of the way again.
“Yeah, she’s my sister,” Dane arches a brow at Lachlan, and I roll my eyes.
“That, too,” Maddock agrees, making me frown. If he hadn’t meant that I was off limits because of Dane, then what was he talking about? “Everyone else is up at the house. It took a decent hit, mostly the front siding and a few of the windows. It could have been worse.”
They let us pass through the gate, Lachlan climbing back to the top the moment it closed behind us. The driveway is long and winding, but neither of us speaks until the house comes into view.
“Fuck,” Dane hisses, his gaze running over the ruined front of what I’m sure is usually a beautiful two-story home.
There are two dark-haired men standing on the porch, pointing at the different parts of the siding that need to be removed. The one on the right turns at the sound of our approach, and I’m unsurprised to see Maddock MacAlister’s face mirrored on the man now staring us down. Merrick isn’t covered in tattoos like Maddock, and I would bet he’s a touch leaner through the shoulders, but his face is a perfect replica of the other man. Except there’s no easy smile spreading across this face.
Merrick says something to the man at his side, causing him to turn in our direction. Callum MacAlister no longer looks like a wisp of a man, ready to slip into the shadows and never return. He’s filled out through his shoulders and chest, making him nearly as big as Merrick, but that isn’t what strikes me the most about him. It’s how he immediately laughs, bright and loud and entirely uncharacteristic of the serious young man I once knew.
“Dane! Charity!” Callum shouts a greeting across the driveway the moment we’re out of the car. “Welcome to my slightly disheveled home!”
Dane matches Callum’s laughter, jogging up the steps toward the men on the other end of the porch. Callum reaches out to shake Dane’s hand, the ease of the movement telling me they’ve done this many times before. My brother is comfortable here, amongst these bloodthirsty mafia sons. His words from this morning ring through my mind as I slowly approach the men.
I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t.
Is he happy here?
“Hello, Charity,” Callum smiles down at me but doesn’t try to shake my hand or pull me into an awkward hug. I appreciate his lack of overfamiliarity.
“Hey, Callum. I like what you’ve done with the place,” I joke, looking at the bullet holes littering the white wood siding. “Very ‘fuck visitors’ of you.”
Callum snorts, and Dane rolls his eyes, but I’m more interested in Merrick’s shoulders rounding in relief. I hadn’t realized how tense he was until then. He must see the question in my eyes because he nods slightly in my direction when Callum and Dane start talking about the siding. “Charity.”
“Merrick.”
“Theo seen you yet?” I’m so shocked by the question I just stare dumbly at him. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he says, “I thought he seemed different this morning.”
“Wh-what?”
“Merrick!” A shout cracks through the air, causing us all to turn toward the side of the house.
I swear my knees nearly give out at the sight of Theo leaping onto the porch shirtless, dripping sweat, and covered in dirt. My eyes aren’t sure where to focus, and they make three full passes over his broad chest before I think of looking at his face. If there was any surprise on his part at seeing me here, it’s gone by the time my eyes meet his. There’s nothing but heat and want in his gaze, and I have to remind my knees that their whole fucking job is to keep me from crashing to the ground.
“Yes, Theodore?”
Theo’s eyes remain on my face even as he answers Merrick. “I could use some help with this window.”
“Too heavy for you, big man?” There’s a humorous lilt to Callum’s voice, but Theo doesn’t seem to notice.
“No,” he finally breaks my gaze, but only long enough to run his eyes down my body and back up. Jesus Christ, I’m going to combust. “I just need someone to hold the level while I screw everything in.”
“Well, if that’s all you need, I’m sure Charity would be happy to help you.”
I swear my face flushes hot enough to light this whole porch on fire. Theo smirks, reaching a hand toward me. I slap it away, stomping past him to the side of the house he just appeared from.
If I make it through this day without killing him or fucking him, it will be a miracle.
Two hours later, we replaced the broken windows, and the guys removed all the damaged siding. Lachlan and Maddock have moved up to the house, setting cameras around the perimeter while Dane and Merrick burn the old siding in the backyard. Theo, Callum, and I are just finishing unloading all the new siding pieces when Callum lets out an exhausted sigh.
“I’m fucking starving,” he admits, sitting heavily on the last stack of wooden boards. Callum squints up at Theo, a questioning look in his eyes. “Morrow’s?”
“Sounds good to me,” Theo grunts, dropping the last four boards onto his stack of siding. It’s twice as many as Callum and I managed to carry, and I nearly roll my eyes at the obvious show of strength. “Charity?”
“Huh?”
“You hungry?”
The way Theo asks the question makes a shiver snake up my spine. “I could eat.”
“Great!” Callum slaps Theo on the shoulder as he moves toward the back of the house. “I’ll let the guys know and text you our orders.”
I watch Callum disappear around the side of the house, unsure if I should follow him. A movement behind me makes me pause, sudden warmth spreading across my skin.
“You want to get lunch with me, Viper?” The question is breathed directly into my ear, followed by a sharp bite to the bottom of my ear lobe.
Fuck me.
“Only if you drive.”