Give Me Hell

by Kate McCarthy

  Grief flits across his expression, and he bows his head. His wide shoulders sag. Damn him. He makes this so hard.

  “I’m sorry, Jake.”

  “I don’t want an apology when I’m the one who’s sorry.” He shakes his head, lifting his gaze. “I just want you to try.”

  “It’s too hard.”

  “I’ll make it easy for you. I promise.” Jake shifts closer, his calloused palm rising to cup my cheek. His eyes darken, beseeching. “Please.”

  A small smile finds its way to my lips, and he covers it with his mouth, kissing me. The touch is tender. Light. Impossible to deny. My body responds, nipples tightening to painful points and heat licking its way down my spine.

  Jake feels it and our kiss hardens into basic need. He needs my touch. I need his. My mouth opens and our tongues meet, rubbing and tangling together. Kissing him makes me dizzy and wet. A moan climbs my throat.

  Before it escalates any further, Jake draws back and presses his forehead to mine.

  A lump fills my throat. “What if I can’t?”

  “Don’t even think about that. Let’s just take each day as it comes. And then one day it will become easy and there’ll be nothing between us. No past. Just you and me, together.” He kisses me again, a soft press of his lips. “I love you, Princess.”

  “I—”

  Jake shakes his head. “Don’t say anything. I just want you to know.”

  The loud clearing of a throat interrupts us.

  I jerk wildly. Coffee tips from the mug I forgot was in my hands. It splashes out, staining my sheets.

  “Shit,” I mutter, seeing Casey leaning against the doorframe. An amused glint lights his eyes as he looks between the both of us. “Jake was just … He brought me breakfast.”

  Casey waves an opened packet of Doritos, seeming to think nothing of Jake’s and my close proximity. “I was just doing the same thing. Looks like he beat me to it.”

  Jake’s tone is unamused. “You were bringing her Doritos for breakfast?”

  “What?” Casey looks at the packet in mock confusion. “It’s cheese. And corn. Part of the food pyramid.”

  He tosses a chip in his mouth with a loud crunch.

  “What did you bring her?” His flirty blue eyes fall on the breakfast tray before moving to the plate in my lap. “Wow. A full-cooked breakfast. Bacon. Eggs. Coffee. Food of the Gods.” He nods, looking at me. “That right there is the actions of a man in love.”

  “Dude,” I mutter. “That is not what this is.”

  “Fuck you, Mac,” Jake mumbles under his breath. “That’s exactly what this is.” Louder, he says, “What do you want, Daniels?”

  A cheeky grin forms on Casey’s lips. Damn, but the man is powerfully sexy, and I’m not blind. Short, dirty-blonde hair, tall and built, he has an infectious attitude that draws you in like a moth to flame. “I was checking to see if the Mac Attack needed anything, but clearly you’ve got her bases covered. All of them.”

  “I do. Mac doesn’t need anything you’ve got to offer, mate.”

  A laugh flies from my mouth. His statement is almost absurd. Any girl would beg to have what Casey has to offer. Even if it does only come in Dorito form.

  Indignation flushes Jake’s cheeks. “Did you just laugh?”

  “No.”

  “You did.”

  “I did not.”

  “Well, if I’m not needed,” Casey says, interrupting our squabble, “then you ladies will have to excuse me. I’ve got shit to do.”

  He leaves quickly and we hear the sound of him jogging down the stairs moments later. I turn to Jake. “Do you think he knows?”

  “Knows?”

  “About us?” I clarify with an eye roll.

  JAKE

  How Mac is letting me stay in her bed, I don’t know. Scratch that. I do. She’s vulnerable after what happened. Do I feel guilty about taking advantage of that vulnerability? Fuck no. She’s going to have to suck it up and get used to me being in her face. Short of telling her everything that went down the night of her kidnapping, being like this is the only way to cement a future together as a happy, albeit hostile, couple.

  I like the hostility, the rabid interaction we have. It keeps me on my toes. Keeps me wanting more. Being on stage, hammering a wild, heavy beat as the rioting crowd swells into a single living organism is nothing compared to having Mac naked beneath me. Or here beside me, bickering as she likes to do.

  “So what if Casey knows, or anyone else for that matter?” I answer. “Would that be so bad?”

  Mac lifts her chin, the stubborn bitch. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She pauses for a moment as if scrambling for a reason. “Because it’s unprofessional. We work together. I’m the manager. You’re the talent.”

  I snort. “Try again.”

  “Because I don’t know how to explain the history we’ve kept hidden from everyone all this time.”

  “I’ll explain it,” I say, shooting down her second reason.

  Her brows snap together. “Dammit, Romero.”

  “Your reasons are thin, Princess. Try again.”

  Mac huffs and exhales sharply through her nostrils. The truth is in there, bubbling beneath the surface of her skin. It will come out because I’ve succeeded in pissing her off by digging for it.

  “Because I’m not ready.”

  And there it is. I hide my disappointment by reaching for her mug of coffee. I take a sip. It’s a punch to the eyeballs. The liquid is dark, bitter, and blacker than night. It’s also lukewarm. I set it on the opposite bedside table.

  “Okay then,” I reply and force a smile.

  “That’s it?”

  “I can’t make you do something you’re not ready for,” I explain patiently.

  “That’s right. And it’s not like we’re even together,” she goes on to say, her words a blow to the heart. Not like we’re together? I can’t live without you!

  Despite the inner turmoil, my external voice is calm. “We’re anything you want us to be.”

  As long as she wants us to actually be together.

  I’m a fool for listening to Casey. Mac should know what her brothers have done. They’re the ones who deserve her anger and forgiveness. But there’s a small voice in the back of my mind that whispers, What happens when she does find out? Will it all become water under the bridge, or will it be too late for the two of us to recover what we lost?

  Forcing Mac to rest for the majority of the day is impossible. Her parents and friends have been visiting on and off since we finished breakfast, so she got nothing done regardless.

  It’s late afternoon and she’s in the shower when Jared puts in an appearance. I’ve avoided her brothers since the night of the kidnapping. My tolerance for them is zero, and I can’t see that increasing any time soon. So when the knock comes at the door and I open it to find him on the doorstep, my blood pressure hits the roof.

  His brows wing up. He’s surprised to find me here. Perhaps he was hoping to avoid me too. The duplex we live in houses the six of us, though Mac, Evie, and Henry live in this side; Frog, Cooper, and I live in the other. It’s basically the same set up we had in Melbourne, except we’re two joined houses on one property with a shared back deck and yard. It’s the perfect arrangement, except for times like now when I have to face Jared standing at the door with the expression of a guilty chump.

  “What do you want?” I growl for the sole purpose of being difficult. It’s clear he’s here to see his sister.

  Jared flicks his sunglasses up and rests them on his head. His green eyes are worn, the skin beneath them bruised from apparent lack of sleep. “Can we talk?”

  “Is there anything left to say?”

  “Yes.”

  I grind my jaw. “You mean there’s more you’ve kept from me?”

  “No. There’s nothing else we’ve kept from you.”

  I turn and walk into the kitchen, leaving the door wide open. It’s a clear indication that he can c
ome in without me having to be solicitous about it. He steps inside and follows, dumping his keys, wallet, and sunglasses on the kitchen counter while I help myself to a beer from the fridge. I don’t offer him one. It’s his sister’s place. If he wants a drink, he can get it himself.

  He notices the slight with an audible exhale through his nostrils. Good. My emotional position has been made clear. I’m still angry.

  Using the bottle opener, I flick the top from my beer and toss it in the bin. Tipping it up, I take a hell of a long sip before I acknowledge him with my eyes.

  “Talk already,” I mutter when I’m done, realising that drawing this out is making the situation more strained than it already is.

  “I want to apologise,” he says.

  “Is that it?”

  “I understand why you’re angry.”

  “Good for you.”

  Jared’s brows snap together. “Dammit, Romero.”

  “You want me to make this easier for you?”

  “I just want to explain what happened.”

  “No, you just want to come here and say you’re sorry to make yourself feel better,” I point out. “But apologies are just an acknowledgement that you stuffed up. They don’t fix shit.” My mind goes to the child Mac and I made together. Was it from the first time we made love? We had argued. Then she told me she belonged to me before laughing in my eyes as she peeled off her dress. It’s the best memory ever. So wild, unpredictable, and incredibly beautiful. To think of losing a child, a son or daughter, just like her makes me ache in the most painful way possible. It’s torture. “It doesn’t bring back what was lost,” I whisper hoarsely, unable to hide the onset of grief.

  I need to share it with Mac. I want to wrap my arms around her and just hold on while I howl because the pain is too much.

  Jared breathes in deep, his expression clearly distraught. It doesn’t stop me saying what needs to be said. “I think about how I feel right now, and then I think of what Mac must have felt when it happened. And to not be given the opportunity to cry with her, grieve with her, and hold her through the worst of it kills me. It fucking kills me,” I choke out. “You took that from us and that’s something you have to live with.”

  “I don’t know how to explain how sorry I am.” Jared swallows, but he stands strong, holding my eyes as he bumbles through his apology. “We lied to you by not saying anything. By telling you to stay away from Mac. And we lied to Mac by telling her you knew about the accident, and losing the baby, when you never knew at all. It was a horrible mistake, and I—”

  There’s a sharp intake of breath behind us.

  We both turn.

  Mac is standing on the bottom stair, feet frozen and face stripped of colour. A beat of strained silence falls before Jared takes a step toward her.

  Mac moves back in response and fumbles as she hits the stair behind her. “What did you do?”

  Her voice is a low accusatory sound that rips my chest wide open. A shaky hand comes to her mouth and her eyes seek mine.

  “Princess,” I mouth, my vision blurring.

  “They never told you?” she croaks.

  Mac’s gaze follows me as I walk toward her. She’s on the step above when I reach her side and it brings us to eye level. “No, sweetheart. I didn’t know. I found out the night you were kidnapped.”

  Her jaw trembles.

  My voice comes out a harsh whisper. “We lost a baby.”

  She nods, her lips pressed together as if she’ll lose it by speaking.

  The ache in my heart is heavy as I stare at the girl who’s been through hell and yet stands tall and strong in the face of it. My insides feel like flimsy glass ready to shatter. How has she not broken like the way I feel I’m about to? “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything when you found out?”

  “It was the last thing you needed to hear under the circumstances.”

  Fire sparks in her eyes. “Fuck the circumstances,” she snaps, holding her jaw tight to stop the trembling. Her eyes cut to Jared. “And fuck you.”

  Her brother tucks his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. “Mac, we thought—”

  “You don’t get to speak,” she hisses, her body vibrating with anger. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I want you to leave. Now.”

  MAC

  The fire of betrayal burns my skin to ash. My fingers curl into my palms, the sharp nails digging into my skin. It keeps me from falling apart as my brother closes the front door softly behind him. My gaze returns to Jake. For the first time I notice the dark circles that lie beneath his eyes.

  “How much did you hear?” he asks.

  I run my tongue along my lips. They’re dry and in desperate need of lip balm. “Enough,” I tell him, stepping off the stair and toward the kitchen where my handbag rests on the counter.

  “Mac.”

  Ignoring Jake, I reach for my bag and rummage through the contents, not finding any. “Goddammit, where is it?”

  “Where’s what?”

  “My lip balm,” I mutter, my chest feeling tight. Why is it so hard to breathe right now? Am I having a goddamn heart attack? “Everyone’s always bloody stealing it,” I gripe. My lungs squeeze as I grab the bag and upend the entire contents over the bench top.

  Crap scatters everywhere: bits of paper, lipsticks, pens, tampons, and my current sheet of birth control pills. “It’s not here!” I half-shout, spreading my hands through it all in a frustrated search.

  “Mac!” Jake shouts.

  I shove it all off the counter, my chest heaving as I fight for another breath. Everything clatters to the tiled floor and scatters every which way.

  My shoulders are grabbed in a vice and Jake gets in my face, shaking me. “Stop it!”

  “I can’t,” I gasp.

  “You can!”

  “I can’t! I can’t breathe!” I press a hand to my chest. “I’m too young for a heart attack. I’m too young.” A few wheezy pants escape my mouth. “This is my brothers’ fault. They’ve gone too far now. Too far.” I jab a finger in Jake’s face to emphasise my point. “And now I’m going to die.”

  The world tilts as Jake picks me up, cradling me to his chest. My body jostles as he walks us to the living area. “You’re not going to die, Princess.”

  God, my chest hurts. “I am.”

  “You’re having a panic attack.”

  That’s insulting. I look down my nose at him. My tone is imperious but its effectiveness is ruined by my wheezing. “Fuck you, I don’t do panic attacks.”

  Jake has the audacity to look amused. “You’re doing one right now.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “I. Am. Not,” I enunciate.

  We reach the couch and he sinks down, bringing me with him. His arms tighten around me like a steel band. The tight entrapment usually has me straining to disentangle myself and he knows it, but instead I feel cocooned, as if anyone trying to get to me will have to break Jake apart first.

  “You’re bottling everything up inside you.” He touches his nose to mine. “This is your body’s way of trying to get rid of it. Let it out.”

  Let it out, he says, as if it’s just that easy. I almost snort, but I’m basically doing that anyway as I suck oxygen in through my nose.

  “If you don’t let it out, I will instead,” he warns me.

  I can’t let it out. I buried it deep long ago. It’s sealed in a vault where there’s no escape.

  We stare at each other for a long, painful beat as he waits.

  I give him nothing so Jake does the talking for both of us. “I was wrong,” he admits. “I let you go and I was wrong.”

  My eyes close. It aches to hear his confession. He was wrong. We should have stayed together, no matter what.

  “Breathe, Mac,” he orders.

  My chest is burning. A harsh rasp of air leaves me as I open my eyes.

  Jake ke
eps talking. “I watched you walk down those steps. Not once did you look back. I betrayed your trust and in a single instant, I was wiped from your life. I didn’t realise how much it would hurt. It fucking hurt, Mac.” Jake shakes his head, his eyes distant. “But at the same time I was so proud of you. Your back was so straight as you walked away from me and toward the car. So true. Like the edge of sword.” His gaze finds mine. “That’s what being with you is like, Mackenzie Valentine. One wrong move and you feel the blade slice you wide open, so swift and clean it’s done before you see it coming.”

  “You let me go, Jake. Why would I stay?”

  “The baby.”

  Fire burns my throat. “You think I would honestly keep something like that from you? I was going to tell you, but you didn’t give me the chance. And when you gave me up so easily, I realised you didn’t deserve the chance.”

  Pain reaches his eyes. “You think I gave you up so easily?”

  My response is a stony stare.

  “I haven’t slept a proper night since. Every damn night I lie in bed and all I see is you walking away from me. I work myself to exhaustion hoping that just once there’ll be a night that my head hits the pillow and I’m out cold, but it never happens. And now…” Jake swallows hard “…now I see you walking away carrying my child and it kills me.”

  “Why did you do it?” I ask, for the first time being able to force the question past my lips.

  “Why did I …” Jake trails off. A grim whoosh leaves his lungs. His hold loosens; one arm lets go to rub over the short buzz of hair on his head.

  Seeing his struggle makes me wish I could retract it. I fight his embrace, realising I’m not ready to hear the answer. To hear him say “I didn’t want you.”

  He turns his head, his voice firm in my ear. “Don’t.”

  I still, unable to look at him.

  “Please.”

  JAKE

  “You were everything to me, Mackenzie.” A lump fills my throat. “You always were. You always will be. That’s why you had to leave.”

  “Don’t give me that convoluted, cryptic bullshit, Jake. I get enough of that from my family.”