Burn (The Sinclair Falls Novels Book 1)

by Shae Mallak

  I didn’t hear much about Mr. Carson’s exploits the last few years, although I was sure his presence in the business world was no less than before. Dad didn’t read the paper anymore, his attention focused more on gambling and winning his next buck than on the legalities of anyone's business ventures. His downward spiral apparently blurred his previous opinions about the man, or were overridden by a desperate desire for money. It didn’t matter that he claimed it was life-or-death; it was still all about money for my father—and I was fairly certain money was the last thing on Jonah’s mind.

  Sometime in the early morning I fell asleep only to be awakened a few short hours later by the twins shouting at each other in the hallway. I groaned and reluctantly tripped out of bed toward the door to tear them off of each other before blood was drawn—usually by Ava. She was vicious when she was mad. I was surprised when I found a scruffy Jonah Carson standing between them, a hand held out on either side keeping them apart, calmly scolding them.

  “You each will get to speak your peace,” he was telling them firmly. They both started talking at the same time at high speed and I found it hard to stifle my giggle but refrained from stepping in to help him. “One at a time!” he scolded. Both Ava and Addis went immediately silent. Impressed, I leaned casually against the wall and watched the strange trio. “Ava?” he prompted, turning first to the fiery little blonde to his left.

  “He hit me!” she cried furiously. “I was trying to watch cartoons and he hit me!”

  “You stole the remote!” Addis protested.

  “Hold on, slugger,” Jonah said, “It’s Ava’s turn right now. You’ll get your chance.” Addis pouted but stayed quiet.

  “Anything else, Ava?” Jonah prompted.

  “I was trying to watch my show and he tore the remote from my hand and then hit my arm!” she whined, using her best persuasive tactics on her new audience, including her pouty lip, big, wet eyes, and a few fake tears as she rubbed the tender spot on her upper right arm. Undaunted and unmoved by her performance, Jonah turned calmly to Addis.

  “Your turn,” he said to him. Addis took a deep breath and plunged into his version of the story.

  “She stole the remote from me first!” he declared. “I was watching Spongebob and she came in and said it was stupid and stole the remote even though she knows it's first come first serve! She changed the channel to the stupid girly show,” he sneered in disgust, “and when I tried to tell her it was my turn with the TV and to turn it back she refused! So I took the remote back and changed it back to Spongebob and Ava cried and smacked me with one of the pillows, only they got those shiny things on ‘em and they smashed right into my face and it hurt!” he cried, rubbing his cheek with a little sniff.

  “Anything else?” Jonah asked patiently.

  Addis ducked his head guiltily, shuffling his feet a little and murmuring, “I guess I did hit her back,” he admitted.

  “Sounds to me like you both did something wrong and both need to apologize,” Jonah suggested.

  “It was my TV time!” Addis cried. “I shouldn’t have to apologize!”

  “But you just said you hit your sister,” Jonah pointed out. “Right?”

  “Yeah, but she deserved it!” Addis insisted, stomping his foot.

  “That’s not for you to decide,” Jonah replied seriously. “And violence is never the answer. You should’ve found an adult and let them decide what’s right and wrong, then they’ll decide the consequences. When a criminal is accused of a crime, they have to have a trial with a judge and jury and let both sides share their story—it’s the same with families.”

  “Are you family now?” Addis asked. “Last night Dad said Evie was going away with you. Are you getting married?”

  “Can I be in your wedding?!” Ava cried, hopping excitedly.

  “Ooh—me too!” Addis nodded with bright eyes.

  “We’re not getting married,” I muttered, drawing all eyes to me. Jonah straightened, the amusement on his face fading into a serious frown. “Mr. Carson will be a part of our lives for some time, though,” I told the twins. “But he’s just a family friend.”

  I didn’t usually lie to them but I wasn’t sure they were ready for the truth. Ava was clever and nosy and found out about Dad’s gambling habit but neither of them knew the full extent of the damage it caused, let alone understand about the shady contract struck between Jonah and their father in the wee hours of the morning, likely when Dad was already drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey.

  An idea occurred to me as I thought through the reasons for lying to the twins and I turned and fixed Jonah with my best serious face. “I would like to see the contract, please,” I said.

  “The contract?” He lifted one eyebrow curiously. “It’s full of legal jargon, I don’t think—“

  “Don’t tell me what I will and will not understand, Mr. Carson,” I said stiffly. “I believe I have a right to read it.”

  “So you do,” he agreed. “There’s a copy in your father’s desk,” he said, and we both turned in that direction.

  As promised, the dozen-page contract was stashed in a folder and stuffed into the bottom drawer of Dad’s desk. He didn’t use the desk much anymore except to store various things he felt were important, mixed with a wide variety of things that definitely were not. I spotted a rubber-band ball and an old broken toy in the drawer along with the contract before Jonah slid it shut again, holding the folder out to me.

  "As requested," he said. I shot him a mocking smile and took it from him, moving to sit in my dad's chair and flip through the legalese in front of me. Growing up with a lawyer for a father, I picked up a few things on the subject and Rule Number One was always read the fine print. Ironically, I was pretty sure Dad was probably too drunk at the time to take his own advice.

  Jonah stood next to the chair while I scanned the document, his arms crossed over his chest again. I tried to ignore his overbearing presence but still ended up reading the same sentence three times. With a weary sigh, I glared up at him.

  "Must you hover?" I moaned.

  "Do you even know what you're reading?" he asked snidely.

  "As a matter of fact, yes," I shot back. "Despite his current troubles, my father was once one of the best, most respected lawyers in town," I reminded. "Long before you were snaking your way around the court system," I sneered. "He did manage to teach me a few things before it all went to hell in a hand-basket."

  Jonah laughed and flashed a crooked, dimpled smile down at me. "And?" he prompted expectantly.

  "And what?" I frowned.

  "And what is it you think it says?" he challenged, nodding at the contract in front of me.

  I glared at him then moved my gaze back down to the document, scanning over a few more pages and lingering over an paragraph here and there. The further I read the lower my heart sank.

  "In exchange for a loan of one hundred fifty thousand dollars," I summarized, "to be dispersed to all of Otto Aberdeen's debtors, paid in full, temporary custody—no, that's the wrong word," I frowned, and flipped back through the contract. "temporary 'protector' is given to Jonah Carson in regards to Evelyn Aberdeen for the duration of the loan—as long as there is an outstanding balance. This can be overturned by a separate marital agreement between Jonah Carson and Evelyn Aberdeen—fat chance, by the way," I muttered. "that would, in essence, override the previous agreement with Otto Aberdeen. The only other way out of it is if he pays it off in full or if it takes longer than fifty years to payback, at which point the remaining outstanding balance is forgiven and the contract becomes null and void." I finished. "That's the basics, anyway," I shrugged, tipping my head back up to Jonah. "Did I cover everything important?"

  "Impressive," he grinned, appearing to be genuine. "You learned all that from crawling around after your father for twenty years?"

  "No," I shook my head as I flipped to the last page and studied the signatures there. "I learned all that from law school," I informed him. I recognized
my father's scrawled name and could read Jonah's neat cursive, but frowned at the third squiggle beneath them. "Who's this?" I asked.

  "You went to law school?" Jonah asked, his tone somewhere between impressed and dubious.

  "Pre-law technically," I replied. "But I never graduated. Who's the third name?" I asked again.

  "Why not?" he pressed. "You obviously know your stuff and love proving people wrong," he noted with a smirk.

  "Because of Mom," I replied simply, trying to keep the emotion from showing in my voice. "Who's this? Is that a B? Brent? Brian?" I squinted at the poor handwriting trying to make out the name of their witness that Jonah wasn't supplying.

  "Your mom didn't want you being a lawyer?" he asked curiously.

  "No, Mom was dying," I retorted hotly, scowling up at him. "Or didn't you hear that part of our sob story?" I held up the contract and pointed to the third signature. "Who is this?" I demanded.

  "Bradley Durwigge," Jonah finally supplied. "My lawyer and our witness. I'm sorry," he said.

  "Sorry for what?" I sneered. "Trapping my father into a deal he'll never be able to get out of save in death? Sorry for trapping me into a sketchy contract that takes away my right to choose my own life? Sorry for being a cocky, pompous—"

  "Sorry about your mom," he interrupted evenly. I stopped mid-insult, my mouth hanging open but the word I was about to say lost. "I remember reading her obituary in the paper," he continued. "You couldn't have been more than—"

  "Nineteen," I said. "Freshmen in college. Barely finished my first year when she stopped responding to treatment."

  "And you never went back?"

  "How could I? Dad was a mess, Addis and Ava were only seven—they needed someone they could rely on to feed them and clothe them and make sure they did their homework and didn't end up homeless on the street! I couldn't just walk away and let them fend for themselves, cleaning up after Dad and the messes he left in the wake of his grief. They're just kids!"

  "So were you," he replied softly.

  "They're family," I said weakly. "I'd do anything for them. I'd lay down my life if it meant theirs would be better." We were both quiet for a while, Jonah frowning at me while I avoided his gaze by flipping through the contract again and pretending to read bits and pieces until a line caught my attention. "Wait," I frowned at the paragraph as I re-read it. "I only get to see my family twice a year?"

  "Unless otherwise agreed upon," he added, quoting the contract.

  "Agreed upon by you!" I exclaimed. "Something tells me you won't be letting me jaunt over every weekend for Sunday brunch."

  "Within reason," he said carefully. "Depending on extenuating circumstances. I'm not a monster, Evelyn."

  "Are you sure about that?" I hissed.

  THREE

  Jonah loomed over me with a strange expression on his face that was somewhere between anger, pain, and regret. Part of me wished he would reach over and tear up the contract and leave me in peace with my family, but the louder, more logical side of me knew Dad wasn’t exaggerating when he told me how much trouble he was in and I knew, without Jonah’s help, there was no way we could fix it on our own. Even if I worked triple shifts and never slept, even if Dad cleaned up his act—it would take a lifetime to repay. Which is exactly what Jonah is asking for, I reminded myself. I couldn’t decide which fate was worse—a life of constant, back-breaking work or a life with Jonah Carson.

  Jonah opened his mouth to retort, but any further argument was cut short by an ominous crash followed by deafening shouts.

  “What the—?" Jonah's head snapped up, tilted in the direction of the sound, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

  “The twins are having breakfast,” I explained calmly. “I keep telling them to use the plastic dishes but do they listen to me? No.” I pushed away from the desk and moved around it toward the door, careful to avoid close contact with Jonah after our encounter in the hallway the night before—our multiple encounters. I heard Jonah mutter something under his breath but didn’t catch the words as I practically sprinted for the kitchen and the chaos that inevitably waited for me there. I could handle two ten-year-old menaces. I was not equipped to handle Jonah Carson.

  I found Ava in the middle of the kitchen standing over a large puddle of milk and cereal that was soaking into the bottom of her sandals and scattered pieces of ceramic littered the tile floor. Addis was standing on the countertop trying to reach the top shelf of the cabinet to get the box of good cereal I hid up there. Ava was shouting at him to share the good stuff and Addis was shouting back at her for breaking another bowl. They both ignored me when I came in, their argument drowning out my shouts for peace. A loud whistle cut through the noise, ringing in my ears, and we all froze and gaped at the doorway where Dad stood with Jonah. Dad was lowering his fingers from his lips, scolding all three of us.

  “Is this how you behave when we have a guest?” Dad bellowed. We all started defending ourselves at once, talking over each other, Ava starting to shout to be heard above the rest. Dad whistled again and we all stopped at once. “Ava,” Dad scolded, “Clean up your mess. Addis, get off the damn counter and leave Evie’s cereal alone.”

  “But she won’t be using it!” he pouted.

  “Down!” Dad repeated sharply. Addis grumbled but jumped off the counter and sulked to the broom closet to help Ava with the mop and bucket. “Evie,” Dad sighed, turning his focus to me. His gaze softened and for a few seconds I thought he would give me a hug and apologize again. “Can you get me a couple of aspirin?” he asked instead.

  “Sure, Pops,” I nodded. “I’ll mix up some coffee and pancakes, too,” I offered. He smiled gratefully then plunked down into one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the milk slowly working its way toward his feet.

  I was relieved to have a few moments to myself, even if they were fleeting, when I retreated into the bathroom and pointedly shut the door between Jonah and me. I planted my hands on either side of the sink and stared at the drain while my anger returned to a mild simmer and my heart rate slowed.

  Eventually I looked up at my reflection, frowning at the tired, bedraggled girl I saw there. There were dark bags under my eyes, my hair was sticking out in every direction, and a new little pink pimple had emerged overnight on my chin. Why in the world did Jonah Carson want me, of all people, when he could have any woman he wanted? Even if he wasn’t as attractive as he was, his bank account would be enough to entice almost anyone. Not that I wanted his money—if I did I would’ve agreed to marry him already just for the divorce settlement. I plucked at my wrinkled, stained pajamas and wondered what Jonah saw in me that was worth laying down all the money for Dad’s extensive debts.

  I couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever—although it was incredibly tempting—and eventually I grabbed the pain reliever bottle from the medicine cabinet and went out to rejoin the barely-controlled chaos that was typical of mornings in the Aberdeen household.

  By the time I returned, the broken ceramic was in the trash and Ava was mopping up the milk—although it looked more like she was smearing it across the floor more than actually cleaning it. Dad was lounging at the table still, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, and Addis sat across from him munching on a fresh bowl of knock-off cheerios. I didn’t comment, stepping around the smeared mess to the coffeemaker. Jonah followed, reaching around me to take the coffee pot from my hands.

  “I can make coffee,” I muttered.

  “I’ve no doubt you can,” he replied evenly, but didn’t release his hold, prying my fingers from the handle and stepping to the sink to fill it.

  I glared briefly at his back then pivoted to pull a bowl from the dish rack and start mixing the pancakes. I had the goopy mixture ready to pour onto the pan by the time Jonah poured two cups of steaming black coffee, setting one in front of Dad and sipping on the other himself and took a seat next to Addis. My brother stared up at him, spoon stilled halfway to his mouth.

  “Is your uncle really a giant?” he
asked. I turned to the stove as I stifled a chuckle and started pouring the pancakes, making four little round pools on the griddle.

  “Well,” Jonah replied, amusement in his voice. “Uncle Jim was even taller than I am—tallest man I ever knew. There’s no proof, but I always wondered.”

  “Wow!” the twins exclaimed simultaneously, the mop and bucket forgotten by Ava. She’d made a half-hearted attempt to clean it up but neither I or Dad scolded her when she set it aside and joined Addis and Jonah at the kitchen table.

  “So when you and Evie have babies, will they be giant babies too?” Ava asked excitedly.