Mackenzie (Heritage Bay Series Book 2)

by M. A. Foster

  “She probably screws his brains out on the daily. That girl is wild, and she definitely knows what to do with a dick.” He wiggles his brows.

  I jerk to a stop just outside the dining room doors and turn to him, wondering if he’s joking. He shrugs, carelessly.

  “You banged Reagan?” I ask, incredulously.

  “A few times,” he admits.

  I just stare at him.

  He laughs and holds up his hand in defense. “We were lab partners last year. She offered, and I needed to get laid. I shut it down after the third time though, or she would’ve thought we were in a relationship. It was at the beginning of the school year, before she and Zach started hooking up. I wouldn’t go behind his back like that.”

  “I know that, jackass.” I scowl and punch him in the arm again. “Why the fuck are you just now telling me?”

  Carter adopts a scowl of his own. “Since when do we share?” This is true.

  “I hope you got tested.” I smirk.

  The corners of his mouth curl into a smile. “No glove, no love. That’s how I roll.”

  “Sometimes the glove isn’t enough,” I remind him, and he shakes his head.

  “Cry me a river, Mackenzie. You’ve got the best of both worlds. But I agree with you. Zach deserves better.”

  “Why would he want to if she’s as wild as you say?” I tease.

  “I didn’t mean she’s wild in bed—she is. What I meant is she’s wild like she can’t be tamed. How many guys did she date last year? Five—six? It won’t last. She’ll get bored and move on to another baller.” He’s right. Every guy Reagan dated last year was a baller. Mostly seniors.

  “Let’s just hope he gets bored first.”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s hope.”

  “MR. FRITZ,” MS. Patty’s voice calls over the intercom. “Will you please send Cole Mackenzie to the office with his belongings? He’ll be leaving for the day.”

  Here we go.

  I ignore the collective round of “oohs” that echo around the room as I slip my pencil, paper, and book into my backpack. The sinking feeling in my gut tells me it’s the call my family’s been expecting.

  Ms. Patty offers me a sad smile as I step into the office and up to the counter. Principal Avery and Ms. Patty are good friends with my grandparents. Their son, Patrick, is my dad’s best friend.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she coos, stepping around the counter with her arms extended and pulling me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” She moves back and looks up at me with unshed tears. “Please give our condolences to your family.”

  I nod and clear my throat. “Thank you. I will.”

  After signing out, I make my way out of the office and nearly collide with Zach.

  “What’s up?” he asks, concerned. “I heard you got called out of class. Is Willow okay?”

  “Willow’s fine. It’s Uncle Marcus. I’m going to California.”

  “Jay’s dad?” His brows pinch in confusion. “What happened?”

  “He’s dying.” I exhale a ragged breath. I’m not about to break down in the middle of the hallway at school. “Jay didn’t tell you?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Jesus, Cole, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” I’m not surprised by that. Uncle Marcus is a very private man, and we all respect that. Including Jay. “How’s Jay?”

  I purse my lips. “Not good.”

  “Of course not.” He winces as he brings his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Stupid question. I’m sorry, man. Please give your family my condolences. Tell Jay I’m sorry and to call me if she needs anything. Or if she just wants to talk. I’m here for you guys.”

  “Thanks,” I say as we clasp hands and slap each other on the back.

  WILLOW IS PASSED out on my lap and I’m relieved. She has no idea what’s going on or why everyone is upset, which makes her upset. The pastor’s words fade into the distance as my attention moves to the slide show displayed on the giant screen behind him until he calls Jay to the podium.

  She looks defeated but determined at the same time. I study her facial expressions as she proceeds to tell hundreds—maybe a thousand—people about the amazing man her father was. She speaks the truth.

  Uncle Marcus wasn’t just a good husband to Emerson or a good father to Jay. He was a good man. A good person. He found the positive in even the most fucked-up situations.

  “We all make mistakes, Cole. Sometimes even our biggest mistakes turn out to be the most beautiful blessings.” Truer words have never been spoken.

  I press a kiss to the top of Willow’s head.

  He was right.

  He was always right.

  I can’t believe he’s gone.

  Jay’s shaky voice grabs my attention. She’s struggling. I start to get up, forgetting that I have a toddler in my lap, but Dr. Ramos, Jay’s therapist, is already making her way over to the steps.

  Jay gives a slight shake of her head, letting the doctor know she’s fine. But she’s not fine, and just as the thought crosses my mind, Jay has a full-blown meltdown. Emerson tries to get up, but Mac holds her back and leans in to whisper something in her ear. Emerson nods, then covers her face with her hands and begins sobbing.

  This is fucking awful.

  “WE’RE HEADING BACK in a couple of days,” my dad says to Emerson. “Have you talked to Jay about going back with us?”

  Emerson shakes her head. “She’s staying here.”

  Mimi inhales sharply through her nose, ready to argue, but my dad beats her to it. “Em.” His tone is compassionate but firm. “Marcus wanted—”

  “I know what he wanted, Max,” she hisses. “But it’s not what I want. Last I checked, I’m still her parent. She’s staying.”

  “Why don’t you both go?” Uncle Liam suggests.

  Emerson jerks to her feet. “Because this is my home, and I’m not ready to leave!” she shouts. “I know you’re all trying to help and I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m suffocating here, so please, just back the hell off.” Turning on her heels, she storms out of the living room and out the back door.

  All heads turn to Bass. He’s Jay’s bodyguard, but he’s Emerson’s friend, and the only one who’s brave enough to face a pissed-off Emerson head on.

  “I got this,” he says gruffly, shaking his head as he trails after her.

  “She’s so fucking stubborn.” Liam huffs out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

  Mac shoots Liam an incredulous look. “And you’re not? Pot, meet kettle.” He waves in the direction Emerson had just gone, then he looks over at Mimi. “They get it from you,” he jokes, pointing at her.

  Mimi waves him off with a flick of her wrist, rolling her eyes.

  I chuckle because it’s true and she knows it.

  Mimi is a feisty woman and she doesn’t take any shit. She’s sharp-tongued and quick-witted. Mac pretends not to like it, but I think it turns him on.

  Okay, that’s gross.

  “I’m going to check on my baby girl,” Mimi says, rising from her seat and heading for the stairs. She’s always favored Jay over the boys. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a bomb-ass grandmother, but it’s no secret that Jay is her favorite.

  My dad directs his attention to Mac. “Dad, will you talk to her?”

  Mac shrugs. “I’ll try, but I’m not going to push her, Max. Emerson is a grown woman, and if she doesn’t want to leave her home, then it’s her choice. I can’t make her.”

  My dad shakes his head. “Don’t let her handle you, Dad.”

  “Max, your sister just lost the love of her life and the father of her child. For two years, she selflessly shoved her own pain and fears aside so she could be strong for her family, putting their needs before her own, and not once did she complain. Jayla is her baby and the only person connecting her to Marcus. If she wants to keep her here, then we support her decision. I loved Marcus like he was my own son, and I want nothing more than to put my girls on a plane and take them home to Heritage Bay, but that’s not
what Emerson wants. We don’t have a choice but to be supportive, no matter our opinions. Going against her wishes will just piss her off and push her further away.”

  My dad drags his hands down his face and sighs. “Okay.”

  JAY IS CURLED up in her bed asleep when I enter her room, her back to me. She’s been like this since the funeral two days ago. Only once was I able to drag her from her bed to join the rest of the family for breakfast. Even then, she barely ate anything, and afterward she excused herself back to her room.

  Rounding the bed, I drop down on the edge and brush her hair away from her face. Even as she sleeps, the expression on her beautiful face reflects her broken heart. An ache spreads across my chest.

  Jay and I have always been close, not because we’re only a few months apart in age but because she’s the coolest fucking girl I’ve ever met. Yeah, growing up, she wore a lot of sparkly shit and her favorite color was pink, but she also pierced her nose, put blue streaks in her hair, wore combat boots, and preferred instruments over dolls.

  She’s a beautiful contradiction. Fearless but timid. Built like a supermodel but would choose ripped jeans and combat boots over a Chanel gown and a pair of Louboutins. She’s as harmless as a kitten but can put a grown-ass man on his back.

  What I love the most is her willingness to try anything instead of turning her nose up and acting like a prissy girl. Not that Jay has ever been all that ‘girly’ anyway. Even during our summer vacations, she wanted to be one of the boys, always down for a game of football on the beach. She’s funny, witty, sassy, and the second biggest smartass I know, after Mimi. It’s no wonder Zach is so in love with her.

  I’m happy to call her my family and my friend.

  I adore her.

  I love her.

  I hate that she’s hurting.

  I hate that we’re all hurting.

  Suddenly, she jerks and inhales sharply, as if something disturbed her sleep. Slowly, she stretches out her long legs and unfolds her lean frame like a lazy cat. Her eyes flutter before she blinks them open and I’m staring into those blue-green eyes.

  Eyes filled with so much heartbreak and pain, it’s like a stake to the heart.

  “Hey,” she whispers, pulling her brows inward. “Why are you watching me sleep like a creeper?”

  Do I detect a little sass in her tone? Maybe all is not lost.

  “We’re leaving soon, and I wanted to talk to you before I go.” A flash of fear and anguish crosses her features before her expression falls flat. “What’s wrong?” I frown.

  “Nothing.” She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s her fake smile, courtesy of Emerson Mackenzie-King. I should call her out on it, but I won’t. “I just wish you guys could stay longer. I like spending time with Willow. She’s getting so big.”

  Jay has only seen Willow a handful of times because Uncle Marcus has been sick for the majority of the time since my little girl was born. Willow has become a little obsessed with Jay during our visit. The two have spent every day this week, day and night, watching Monsters, Inc. I’m not sure Jay was even paying attention that the movie was on instant replay, but Willow didn’t notice. She was just happy to have someone willing to sit through it more than once.

  Personally, I draw the line after two times, even though it’s funny. The little girl reminds me of Willow. Jay thought so, too, and now she calls her Boo.

  A pang of regret hits me in the chest.

  Jay still doesn’t know the truth about Willow. Not because she’d look down on me or judge me, but because with Uncle Marcus being sick, along with all the other secrets buried in our family, it hasn’t been the right time.

  “Maybe you can come to Heritage over the summer and hang out with her. You guys can binge-watch Monsters, Inc. all day.”

  “That sounds like fun. I’d like that.”

  “Are you gonna be okay? I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m scared, Cole,” she admits softly. “I don’t know how to live without him.”

  “What can I do?” I ask, wishing I could take her pain away.

  She extends her arms. “I really just need a hug right now.”

  I can do that.

  I WAKE UP to Willow climbing in my bed butt naked. “Willow, where are your clothes?”

  “On, Co.” She holds out a pull-up.

  “Willow, do you need to go potty?” We’re currently in the potty training phase, but she’s not even two yet, so we’re taking things slow. When she started asking to use the toilet, I googled it. Little girls can start potty training as early as eighteen months. And I gotta give my little girl props because when we’re at home, she can go all day with no accidents.

  Until she has to poop.

  Hence the pull-up.

  “No,” she lies.

  Typical girl, never wants to admit she’s gotta poop.

  “Put on, Co,” she says impatiently, an expression of discomfort on her face.

  Man, she must really have to go.

  “Okay,” I concede. “Are you sure you don’t have to go? I’ll take you now.”

  “No.” I knew she’d say no, but I had to ask. Just like I know the second I slip on the pull-up, she’ll disappear for a good five minutes. But I know all her hiding places.

  After I’ve brushed my teeth, I head to the kitchen but stop in the living room to check on Willow, who’s currently squatting under the sofa table.

  “You poopin’?” I tease.

  She looks up at me like a deer in headlights, her face three shades of red.

  “N—” Grunt. “—o.”

  I turn my head to stifle a laugh.

  “Okay.”

  I let her have her privacy and head for the kitchen where I find my brother Dylan sitting at the table, leaning back in a chair with his legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the back of my dad’s head. He turns his head when he hears me, and the expression on his face tells me something’s wrong.

  So I ask. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know. Something about Jay. I’m trying to listen.” He turns his attention back to my dad, who’s facing the French doors with his back to us, one arm stretched over his head and the other holding his cell phone to his ear.

  “How bad? Christ, Emerson!” he hisses, lowering his arm to run his hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault, but you should’ve let us take her. She needs her family… I know they’re her family, too. That’s not what I meant… I’m not picking a fight with you… I’m not telling you how to raise your daughter… You know my opinion on that subject. However, she is my niece, and I want what’s best for her… Em.” He exhales through his nose. It’s what he does when he’s trying not to lose his shit. “Will you shut the fuck up for a minute and let me talk?” I raise my brows. I guess it’s not working. Dylan looks over at me, eyes wide. “Em, I love you, but I can’t fuckin’ deal with you right now. Where’s Bass?”

  There’s a bit of a pause before he says, “Hey, man… I know she blames herself, but it’s not about her right now. It’s about Jay.” The longer this conversation continues, the more dread I feel settling in the pit of my stomach. “Of course she’s depressed,” my dad continues. “We’re all depressed. Emerson should’ve let me bring Jay home, like Marcus specifically asked me to do… How long will she be in there? The boys are going to want to know. Cole…” Cole what? “Cole’s going to want to see her or at least talk to her… Why?” He blows out a breath. “All right. Well, my parents are on the way with Alex. They should be there in about”—he removes his hand from his hair to check his watch—“five hours. Keep me posted please… Thanks… Bye.”

  He pulls his cell phone from his ear, slips it into his front pocket, and blows out a ragged breath. “Jay was taken to a private hospital this morning,” he says, keeping his back to us but knowing we’re waiting for an explanation.

  “Why?” Dylan asks.

  “What happened? Is she okay?” I need to know everything.


  “She will be,” he replies as he turns to face us. “Apparently she hadn’t left her bedroom, much less her bed, since we left.”

  Dylan shakes his head and I frown.

  “That was over a week ago,” I recall.

  My dad nods. “Em said whenever any of them would check on her, she seemed to be fine. She was either on her iPad or sleeping. They were trying to give her space, to let her process her grief on her own, but the problem with that was while she was grieving, she wasn’t eating much. Lucas showed up yesterday to get her out of the house, and when he went into her room to wake her up, she was barely conscious. It had only been a week, but she had lost a lot of weight and was severely dehydrated. They took her to a wellness center, and she’ll be there for a few weeks.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have left her. “Can I call her?”

  “She’s not allowed any phone calls or visitors for the next few days.”

  Dylan looks at our dad incredulously. “Even from her immediate family?”

  Dad shakes his head.

  “Why?” I ask, confused.

  “She’s under observation for the next seventy-two hours. Not even Emerson is allowed to see her.”

  “Was she Baker Acted or something?” Dylan frowns.

  “Not exactly,” Dad replies.

  “Then what?” I’m still confused. What is he saying, or not saying?

  “She’s under observation as if it were self-inflicted.”

  What the hell? “Like she did it on purpose?”

  Jay’s words echo in my head. “I don’t know how to live without him.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  Willow chooses this moment to come into the kitchen and climb in my lap. I hold my breath because damn, she stinks.