Breaking the Wrong (Sloan Brothers Series Book 2)

by Calia Read

  “Okay,” I reply dumbly.

  He backs away slowly, and the look he gives me is purely carnal, like he wants to devour me. I want him to try. I want to see the outcome.

  “My,” Tosha comes up beside me and sips on her drink, “that was cozy.”

  She hands me my jacket and I slip it on. I watch Macsen’s back. He turns around and grins at me. I smile back, knowing that Tosha is watching everything.

  “Am I a terrible person for wanting him?” I ask her.

  “For wanting to get it on with Macsen Sloan? No, not at all—although, I’m not too sure about the sister thing.”

  Crossing my arms, I stare ahead, but my eyes are locked in on the past. I replay memories of how happy my family was three years ago. “He didn’t do it.”

  “That’s a big thing to say.”

  “You’ve already told me that. And everything you’re saying … I’ve thought to myself a million times.” I stuff my hands into my pockets and look at my friend. “You believe me, right?”

  Tosha shrugs. “Do you believe you?”

  My head is nodding before she can even finish her question. “I do.”

  “Then you’re going to do what you want. Your mind is already set.”

  It is. I’m firmly locked in on my opinion of who Macsen Sloan is. And that might make me naïve and completely blind. But the Macsen Sloan written in my sister’s journal is not the Macsen I know.

  He can’t be.

  I rush through the front door thinking about Emilia. She was different today. People don’t change overnight, but there was a lightness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

  Chris is lying on the couch watching Sports Center and barely looks up. “What’s up, man?”

  My bag drops onto our cheap kitchen table. “Nothing.”

  Impatiently, I look down at my watch. I’m counting down the time until I see her, like a pathetic fucking puppy. She’s been a mystery to me since the first day of class. Everyone takes her silence as indifference. But I’ve talked to her, I’ve had my hands on her, and she has enough fire in her for anyone to be scorched.

  I still want to be around her.

  Stepping away from her Friday night was torture. I deserved a fucking medal for that. I was desperate enough to take her any way I could, but I would’ve regretted it later on. A house filled with people who could easily hear everything, she deserved better than that.

  Grabbing a water, I walk to my room and go straight to my bookshelf. I pick up The Scarlett Letter. Looking at the front cover, I want to know how Hester Prynne could ever be Emilia’s favorite character.

  She’s stuck in my brain. I’m willing to follow Emilia around, even if it only gives me one little second next to her.

  “Are you deaf? Do you need a Miracle-Ear?”

  Discreetly, I lay the book down. “What are you talking about?”

  Chris grunts. “Your dad called. He said Glenn called him because your phone was off, and he needs you out there now.”

  I glance over at my clock. 3:45 P.M. “Fuck,” I mutter.

  Chris belches from the doorway and I can smell the Gatorade all the way from my dresser. “I guess Glenn said the fence needs to be fixed? He said some other shit, but I zoned out.”

  I slam a few drawers around, trying to figure out how I’m going to work this. “Yeah, I got it.”

  He slaps the doorway once and backs away. “You go have fun. I’m meeting a girl later.”

  I stare at him dully and grab the stained shirt from my high school in New York. My work jeans lay in the corner. They’re stained green, and with other filth that has found its way onto my body. I learned quickly that no matter how many times you wash your clothes after working on a farm, they never get clean.

  My movements are lazy as I half-ass my way into getting dressed. I lace up my crappy work boots before I slam the front door of my apartment.

  The drive to Glenn’s farm from campus isn’t long. It’s a never-ending country road, surrounded by fields and more fields.

  Glenn’s farm is the only house that has a mile-long drive. There are a few electric poles leading up to his house. On the second pole is a sign with the words, NO TRESPASSING.

  It doesn’t stop there. The second pole has a sign that reads: 10 MILES PER HOUR! I ignored the second sign the first time I came here and flew up the drive. Glenn met me with a rake in his hands and promptly told me the first thing I was going to do on his farm was even out his gravel. I evened it out with a shitty rake while Glenn drove on his four-wheeler right next to me and informed me that if you speed on gravel you could get dust on your truck and scratches from the kicked up rocks.

  The old man is a perfectionist about everything. I swear my dad knows this about Glenn and is laughing his ass off every time I show up here.

  I kill the ten-mile per hour trip up the driveway and call my dad. He answers bluntly. “Owen Sloan.”

  “It’s Macsen.”

  “Oh ... hi.” Papers shuffle around and I know he’s busy at work. “Have you talked to Chris yet?”

  “Yeah. I’m driving up Glenn’s driveway right now. But I have to tutor someone tonight. Why can’t Thayer do this?”

  “I asked him already. He’s busy.”

  I smile darkly to myself because Thayer’s plans were probably the same as mine.

  “It won’t take that long, Macsen. Just go get it done.”

  “I’m going to.”

  “Thanks, Son,” Owen pauses. “What’s so important that you can’t cancel your tutoring session? You’ve cancelled plenty in the past.”

  I rub the back of my neck as I think of Emilia. She’s still my secret. I’m not purposely hiding her. She’s something good in my life.

  Really fucking good.

  There is no way in hell I’m canceling anything with Emilia.

  I grab the first excuse I can think of. “I promised this student I’d help them,” I tell him lamely.

  “Okay. Well, get your shit done and you can go.”

  We hang up and I keep thinking that a year ago, the word ‘son’ would’ve never come out of my dad’s mouth. But now we’re on ‘Son’ and ‘Dad’ terms, and it’s better than not speaking like before.

  Finally, I approach the farm and glance over at the tiny farmhouse to the right. Compared to the four massive barns spread to the left, it looks to be about the size of an outhouse. I park and look over at the front porch. Glenn’s wife, Bernice, peeks her head out of the screen door and gives me a wave. I wave back. My mind is filled with nothing but Emilia. Yet, coming here isn’t terrible. Glenn and his wife have almost grown on me.

  I reach in the backseat and grab the green Pioneer zip-up. Glenn gave it to me when it got cold and my balls were close to falling off. The jacket is worn and used, but it works.

  Reaching across the console, I grab my work gloves and open my door. I hear the loud rumble of a truck and watch as my brother pulls up next to me. I slam my door and walk slowly toward Thayer.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  Thayer raises a brow and zips up his jacket. It’s the same shitty kind as my own. “I heard you needed help.” He snatches the beanie from his seat and pulls it over his head.

  “Did Dad tell you that?”

  My brother hesitates for a second and shakes his head. “No, Severine did.”

  I narrow my eyes. “That so?”

  “She heard me talking to Dad,” Thayer explains. He shuts his door and looks around awkwardly. “She also wanted me to talk to you.”

  My lips pull into a flat line, and I start walking to the first barn to grab the keys to Glenn’s work truck. “Yeah? Why is that?”

  He follows behind me as I open the barn door. A beat-up radio leans against one of the wooden beams of the barn. It’s an AM station that occasionally plays old fifties songs. I thought Glenn was losing it and I told Bernice that the radio was constantly on. She laughed and patted me on the shoulder as if I was telling her a joke. She told me late
r it stays on to keep intruders and coyotes away.

  Thayer shouts above the radio and I grab the truck keys so I can quickly fix this fucking fence. “She’s worried about you.”

  I go to slam the door, but stop. Slowly, I turn to face him. “Why?”

  This conversation is awkward even for Thayer. He looks at the dried-out grass all around us. “She’s heard some things.”

  ‘Some things’ can equal so much fucking drama in girl-land. I say nothing and walk toward the old, beat-up work truck in the driveway.

  Thayer gets in and pleads his case again. “She’s seriously concerned.”

  “For what?” I mutter.

  “That girl you’re tutoring.”

  My back becomes rigid instantly. “I tutor a lot of people.”

  “Chris told me about Emilia. Said she was at his Halloween party.”

  “Chris can shut his fucking mouth.”

  I don’t care about Glenn’s rules. I speed down his driveway just to get to the field and to finish this conversation. It’s only a few miles from Glenn’s house, but it feels like fifty miles with my brother next to me.

  “How long have you known her?”

  I glance over at him. “She has a name.”

  Thayer gives me a pointed look. “Okay ... how long have you known, Emilia?”

  “Long enough.”

  We pull up to the broken fence, and I’m out of the truck before Thayer can say anything else. I walk to the truck bed and slide out the pieces of wood it will take to replace the fence. Thayer just watches.

  I reach for the toolbox and cut a glare in his direction. “Are you just going to sit there and watch?”

  “Shit,” he gives me a small smile of approval. That may be the first time someone on the Sloan side has ever looked proud of me. “You’re better at this farming stuff than I thought,” he confesses.

  “Well, I’m a quick learner,” I mutter.

  Thayer grabs the toolbox from the truck bed and walks to the broken fence. I toss the loose board and get to work.

  “Severine thinks-”

  I’m tired of this conversation. I drop the piece of wood and curse. “I don’t care what Severine thinks.”

  Thayer’s bent over the toolbox, sorting through the nails. He stands up and looks at me solemnly. “She says that Emilia has an agenda.”

  I’m angry. I’m angry that his words are getting to me and making me question just how much I don’t know Emilia. But I don’t want to hear it from Thayer, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear anything from Severine.

  I stand to my full height and compared to Thayer’s six-foot-nine frame, it doesn’t look like much. But I don’t back down. “I don’t give a fuck what you or Severine think.”

  He narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “Do you like this Emilia?”

  “What the hell is this?” I yell. “Since when does it matter to you what’s going on in my life?”

  “When you defend someone like this, I’m more than curious,” Thayer says calmly.

  Everything with my brother is calm.

  I have a personality that was molded from my past. Growing up with Laurena meant growing up with a different dad blowing in and out of my life. Most ‘dads’ were assholes who saw Laurena with money signs in their eyes and me as their new punching bag. When I had enough scratches and dents on me, and when my mom showed her true colors, they were gone.

  Step-dad number four almost felt like a dad. Doug would look at me with sympathy, like he knew he was on borrowed time with Laurena. But he was the only one that taught me how to fight back. He taught me enough to survive before he fizzled out of Laurena’s life.

  After that, I wasn’t walked over. I had been kicked down enough that something just broke inside me. I think that happens to those who have been treated like shit. You become distant and fight back or you shut down and curl up in a ball, just waiting for it to end. Either way, there are consequences.

  I hunch closer to the fence and try to take a deep breath. “I’m defending her because you don’t know her.” I slam another nail into the fence.

  “But neither do you.” Thayer hands me another nail, but I just stare at his outstretched hand. “Mac, I’ve talked to her. She’s quiet and ... just strange. You-”

  The hammer drops onto the cold ground. I glare at my brother. “I have one good fucking thing in my life, Thayer! Just one. And then you tell me Severine’s concerned...” I rip my hat off and grip my hair with frustration. “You and I haven’t talked in months, and the only reason we are talking right now is because your girlfriend sent you out here on some type of fucking quest.”

  “I came out here because I wanted to see how my brother was.”

  “I’m good,” I grit out.

  He opens his hand up with the same nail in his palm. We repeat this process for the next hour as we walk through the grass, checking the fence.

  We finish in silence. When we’re done I speed to Glenn’s farm, get into my truck, and go to the one person that gets me. The same person my brother is telling me not to trust.

  Macsen’s late.

  I push aside the sleeve of my sweater and look down at my watch. Macsen is more than late. The library closes in fifteen minutes and only two of us are left.

  Melissa’s gathering her books a few tables away. She looks over at me and smiles. “Where’s Macsen?”

  I shrug. “I have no clue.”

  She drums her fingers on the table and looks over at the clock. “He’s never late.”

  I pause as I put my stuff in my bag. “I know.”

  “Maybe he got held up somewhere?” Melissa offers.

  “Maybe.”

  Usually when I arrive at the library, he is already here, waiting with a book in front of him. I stayed and worked through my problems, knowing that they were wrong. It was too quiet and cold without him sitting across from me.

  I stand with Melissa and sling my bag over my shoulder.

  “Hey!” Macsen jogs toward me. He’s filthy, dressed in jeans covered with dirt and flecks of paint, and an old jacket that is just as dirty as his pants. Even the hat on his head is stained. He needs a shower, but I like this look. Even filthy, I’m tempted to wrap my arms around his waist and stick my tongue down his throat.

  He stops beside me and his cheeks are slightly red. It makes him look young. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Melissa and I both look him up and down in confusion. Macsen smiles. “I just got done working.”

  “Where?” I ask.

  He tucks his hands into his jean pockets. “It’s just a horse ranch. Fix fences, clean horse stalls. It’s amazing,” he says sarcastically.

  Hearing that he works on a horse ranch is a pleasant surprise. It only solidifies the fact that the Macsen I expected is nothing like the Macsen in front of me.

  The three of us walk toward the exit and I lean my head close and ask, “How long have you worked there?”

  Macsen casually takes my bag and slings it over his shoulder. He makes the action seem so casual, like he does this all the time. It’s a simple gesture, but I can’t think of a single time that any guy has carried my book bag.

  “Since the summer,” he says.

  “You must be busy a lot,” I comment lightly. Inside, I’m worried that he’s overwhelmed and will stop tutoring.

  He shrugs. “It pays the rent.”

  We walk with Melissa toward the exit. She’s a step in front of us, and the whole time she has a smirk on her face as she eavesdrops. Macsen leans close. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  Looking up at him, I take in his strong jaw and those lips that I’m dying to kiss. “I had to do a few problems so I stuck around.”

  His hand rests on my lower back and heat spreads throughout my body. “And how did you do?”

  “I probably got a few wrong.”

  We say good-bye to Melissa as she makes a run for her car. The wind is picking up and thunder sounds off in the distance. We’re about to be hit w
ith a storm.

  Quickly, I step away from the building. My hair flies back from my face, and I jog to my car when the rain starts to hit my cheek and hair at a sideways angle.

  Macsen holds my bag above my head as I quickly unlock my door. I watch him squint his eyes and look up at the rain. When he looks back at me, his face is wet. I want to lick every raindrop off his face.

  Smiling, he leans closer, just as lightning strikes. “If I stand out here long enough, do you think it will count as a shower?”

  My body sags against the door, ignoring the water soaking through my clothes. “If you have a bar of soap in your car, maybe,” I tease back.

  His smile is mischievous and he looks so happy and carefree—so young. He tilts his head back and this time, he closes his eyes. Rain lands on his neck, ears, the side of his cheek—he doesn’t flinch once.

  “What are you doing?”

  Macsen talks with his eyes closed. “You’ve never done this?”

  “Stand outside during a thunderstorm?” I glance over my shoulder at my car and step away. My body is now inches away from his.

  “Emilia,” he sighs. His voice fills with disappointment, but he’s still smiling. Water trails down the curve of his lip and dribbles onto his shirt. “I used to do this all the time as a kid.”

  I hold my head high and mimic Macsen’s actions. My eyes are tightly shut as I talk. I know when I open them I’m going to have a charming pair of raccoon eyes. “Why would you do this?”

  “It’s relaxing ... I feel clean.”

  “I feel ... wet,” I tease.

  Maybe he smiles. I don’t know. My eyes are still closed. We stand like that for only a minute. I feel Macsen wipe away the water from my nose and I smile as I lower my face. “How do you feel?” he asks.

  My hair is plastered to my neck and cheeks. And no question my makeup is ruined. But I feel adrenaline spiking through my body. It’s a rush, a sprint that makes me want to do something spontaneous, without caring.

  I say three words. “I get it.”

  Macsen’s face changes, and if anything, I feel closer to him. He rubs a hand down his face, and most of the water disappears. “I can still look through your answers if you want me to.”