by Chloe Walsh
“He was seven and I was five. I came home from a birthday party crying. One of the kids had pushed me down in the dirt and I cut my knee,” she explained, smiling fondly. “I don’t think the kid did it on purpose, but Rourke flipped out all the same. I’d never seen him so angry before. He put me on the back of his bicycle and took me back to the party; told me to point out who had made me cry. I did, and it just so happened to be one of his best friends, Daryl King.”
“What did he do?”
“Rourke? He kicked his butt,” Amelia giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “He beat Daryl up real bad and then made him kneel in front of me and beg my forgiveness.”
“Oh my god!”
“I know,” she chuckled. “After that day, we were as thick as thieves. He’s had my back ever since.”
“Amelia? Grub’s up.”
Rourke’s voice filled the room and Amelia sprang up from the couch she’d been sitting on. “Rourke is the only sibling I have,” Amelia explained softly as she hurried to the door. “He means a lot to me. I know he’s a jerk to you, and all you can see is his bad sides, but there’s more to him than meets the eye. He truly is a great brother.” With that she slipped out of the room and closed the door.
I was reeling.
No, I wasn’t reeling.
I was floored.
My heart, hard as it was, broke when I thought of the three-year-old version of Rourke having to say goodbye to his mother. My own mother was a pain in my ass, but I couldn’t imagine not having her in my life. This bothered me. It bothered me so much that I moved on flight mode when I climbed off the couch and headed for the kitchen.
“Six, if you’re here for a fight then you need to walk away now,” Rourke warned when he looked up from the stove and noticed me walking towards him. “I’ve had a really long ass day…whoa –”
His words broke off the moment I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him.
He remained still as a statue, all his muscles bunched and tense, but he didn’t shrug me off, so I considered that a victory.
“What was that for?” he asked, tone a little huskier than normal, when I stepped away.
“I thought you could use a hug,” I replied.
“From you?” He cocked a brow. “Why would I want you to touch me?”
“I told her about Camille,” Amelia offered from her perch at the counter.
“Why would you do that?” Rourke growled, stiffening, his heated gaze still on my face.
“Because, like it or not, Rourke, this one is here to stay,” his little sister replied. “And I wanted her to know the facts before you try and chase her away.”
“It’s not your business,” he snapped then, glaring down at me. “My mother has nothing to do with any of this.”
“I know,” I agreed as I retreated from the kitchen. “But I’m still sorry.”
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT when Rourke walked into my bedroom and threw himself down on my bed next to me. I had been sitting up playing a crummy game of Snake on my phone, but the moment he laid down beside me, I completely forgot about the game.
“Rourke?”
Folding his arms behind his head, Rourke settled on his back, our bodies aligned. “She was beautiful.”
Dropping my phone on the floor, I laid down beside him. “Your mom?”
He moved his head.
“I’m sorry, Rourke,” I whispered, knowing there was nothing else I could say.
“She deserved better,” he grunted, eyes locked on the ceiling. “It was no way to go.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
“I’m still mad.” He let out a harsh laugh. “You’d think that after fifteen years the anger would have simmered down, but nope.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m fucking burning with it most days.”
“It’s understandable.”
“Is it?” He turned to face me then, his blue eyes burning holes into mine. “Maybe I’m broken inside.”
“I haven’t lost a parent like you have,” I replied, eyes locked on his. I only had one. “So, I won’t tell you I know how you feel. But I understand the feeling of being powerless. I can imagine what that does to you.”
“Why are being like this?” he asked after a pause.
“Like what?”
“Understanding,” he muttered. “Kind?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m a little broken, too.”
“Maybe,” he whispered, blue eyes piercing me. “Are you?”
“Am I what – broken?”
He nodded.
Facing the ceiling again, I exhaled a heavy sigh. “Probably.”
Rourke was quiet for the longest moment before asking, “What broke you, Six?”
You… “A long list of things,” I replied instead.
“Care to share?”
“And give you more ammunition to use against me?” I laughed harshly. “No thanks.”
“I deserve that,” Rourke replied with a sigh.
He did.
Another minute passed before he said, “My father thinks I need therapy.”
“What do you think?”
He looked back to the ceiling and exhaled heavily. “I think…” He sprang up without finishing his sentence and climbed off my bed. He looked down at me then and that cruel smirk was back. “I think he needs to stop bringing home new wives and their fucking strays.”
Ouch.
Turning back to face the ceiling, I closed my eyes and swallowed deeply.
The sound of my bedroom door clicking shut did little to ease my racing heart. I wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight.
Rourke
SHE WAS FUCKING WITH my head real bad. Goddamn, I couldn’t concentrate worth a shit on anything but Six.
Christ, we started back at school soon. I would have to look at her every damn day. I wouldn’t be able to avoid her there like I had been managing to do at home. She would be a senior like me, and I knew full fucking well my father would pull some shit and have her put in my classes. It was a given.
Goddamn, why’d she have to go and be all nice to me tonight?
It was so much easier to hate her when she was a bitch.
And why the hell did Millie tell her about my mother?
I didn’t want Six knowing about my momma.
She was sacred to me.
My memories were all I had left of her and I didn’t want anyone fucking with those.
Laying in complete darkness, I reached into my nightstand drawer and pulled out the old journal. Remaining perfectly still, I held it to my chest and exhaled a heavy sigh. This damn traveler’s notebook had given me more comfort than any blanket or pacifier ever had. It still did.
The notes and letters it contained, I had read thousands of times. I knew each page by heart, but the ink on the pages was her marking. Her words. Her touch. I cherished it.
Looking up at the ceiling, I pictured my momma’s face in my mind. I invented a voice I wasn’t sure had ever existed to go with the face.
When I had the picture just right, and when I’d pretended to hear her whisper she loved me, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
Mercedes
AFTER OUR TALK, it didn’t take Rourke long to return to his normal asshole self.
That flicker of vulnerability I had seen for the briefest of moments the other night was well and truly gone now – replaced with an impenetrable wall of sarcasm and wit.
He clashed happily with me on absolutely everything and was never more content then when he was making me feel unwelcome. Dick.
It was my day off from work the following Tuesday and I planned on spending it going over a bundle of notebooks and old test papers that Amelia had managed to snag from Rourke’s room.
It was inevitable that Rourke and I would be in at least some of the same classes when school started and I wanted to compare the lesson plans from his teachers to my old ones.
Laying on my stomach on the rug in the living room, I splayed several books, sheets, and papers out on th
e floor and concentrated.
Rourke’s notes and test papers irritated me much more than they should. Because he was smart. Like seriously, high IQ level intelligent.
In the dozen or more papers I had in front of me, the lowest my stepbrother had received was a 92. It pissed me off. And he could draw. The doodles and random sketches of buildings on the inside of his textbooks and copies were insane. So he was beautiful, rich, good at sports, smart, and he could draw? Ugh. The best I could do was a match stick man.
Glum, I forced myself to ignore that pesky inferior feeling trying to swallow me up and focused on Rourke’s English Lit notes. It wasn’t easy though, not when my eyes kept returning to those damn doodles.
Admitting defeat, I gave up on Shakespeare and grabbed the A4 sized note pad. As I flicked through page after page of building sketches, my jaw fell more and more open. He was good. He was really good. I turned another page then and froze when my eyes lands on a graphically detailed sketch of a naked woman. The woman he’d sketched sort of reminded me of a cartoon version of Jessica Rabbit.
She had long locks with sultry eyes and big pouty lips. She was sitting down against a blank backdrop with her legs spread open in an extremely provocative pose.
Of course, she had the standard over inflated breasts teenage boys seemed to be obsessed with.
What really caught my eye though, was his accuracy in her…lower area.
Oh, my freaking god.
As I gaped at the sketch, I had a burning urge to run upstairs to my room, ditch my clothes, and grab a mirror. The boy had drawn the most realistic vagina I had ever freaking seen. If it wasn’t for Rourke’s impressive attention to detail, I would have hurled. Actually, I still might.
“Having fun?” Gabe’s voice came from behind me and I slammed the book closed, feeling like I’d just been caught watching porn or something.
“Just reading up on some of Rourke’s…uh… notes for school,” I replied, red-faced and mortified. Scrambling onto my knees, I quickly piled all of the notes and books on top of one another.
If Gabe knew what I’d been looking at then he hid it well. “Really?” His brows rose in surprise. “I’m surprised Rourke shared those with you. He’s usually so...” His voice trailed out and he shook his head and smiled at me before saying, “Never mind.”
Okay! Climbing to my feet, I grabbed the stack of books and held them to my chest. “I better get these back to him.” Or back to his room before he realizes they’re gone…
“Before you go, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Gabe called after me.
Reluctantly, I paused in the doorway and turned back to him. “Oh yeah?”
“I wanted to organize a family meal in the next week or so, before your mother and I leave.”
Another family meal? “Why?”
Gabe smiled. “Because we’re family now, Mercedes. And your mother and I want to lay down the house rules while we’re gone on our trip.”
“Fine.” Ugh. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Well…” Gabe said, trailing off. “I was hoping you could talk to Rourke – try and convince him to attend.”
“Me?” I squeaked. Was he blind or something? “Gabe, your son hates me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
I raised a brow. Who was he kidding?
“Fine,” Gabe sighed, admitting defeat. “I’ll level with you. My son’s behavior has left your mother feeling a little…unwelcome.”
Made her feel unwelcome? I rolled my eyes. My Mom was such a drama queen. “And you’re telling me this because?”
“Amelia has tried speaking to him about it, but it went straight over his head,” Gabe explained in a weary tone. “And Rourke hasn’t listened to a thing I’ve said since he was a boy.” He smiled at me with a hopeful expression. “So… I was thinking maybe if you had a word with him and explained how his behavior is making your mother feel uncomfortable, he might listen?”
“No,” I choked out. Was he for real? “No way. I’m not getting involved.” Especially when I was the one who spent most of the time on the receiving end of Rourke’s anger.
“Oh well. You can’t blame a guy for trying,” Gabe muttered sullenly.
I didn’t bother answering, choosing to take the staircase two steps at a time in my rush to get Rourke’s books back in his room before he found out I’d had them.
Rourke
SIX WAS SITTING on the edge of my bed when I got home from football practice. She was wearing a plain gray tee-shirt and jeans, and didn’t have a smidgen of makeup on her face. She didn’t need it. She was beautiful just as she was.
Anger coursed through me then; my brain finally catching up to the realization that she was in my room.
What the fuck was she doing in my room?
She didn’t even look up at me when I walked into my room; she was too engrossed in the book in her hands. For a moment, my heart stopped dead in my chest.
It quickly kick-started again when I recognized the old sketch book and I felt myself sag in relief.
For a moment there, I had thought Six was reading my mother’s book to me. If she had have been, I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted. I had a feeling the answer would be not well.
Dropping my gym bag by the door, I walked over to where she was sitting and folded my arms across my chest. I owed her for being a dick the other night. The shitty way I spoke to her when she tried to console me over my mom was the reason I wasn’t tossing her ass out.
Of course, the moment Six noticed me standing over her, she screamed and dropped the book on the floor. “Omigod,” she panted, breathless. “Rourke, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Hey.” Holding my hands up, I teased, “It aint my fault you were too busy snooping around in my shit to realize I was here.”
“I wasn’t snooping,” she shot back, red-faced, spring up from the mattress. “I was…admiring.”
“Are you a lesbian?” I asked with a smirk when I noticed what page of my drawings had gotten Six’s attention.
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. And no, I’m not a lesbian,” she added with a pout, glaring. “I was just…” Her voice trailed off and she look down at her feet before back up at my face. “Those drawings are good, Rourke.”
“I know,” I shot back with a wink.
She folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a breath. “Cocky much?”
“Just stating facts, Six.” Bending over, I grabbed the book off the floor and returned it to my desk. “But apparently, your memory isn’t worth shit.”
She looked at me in confusion.
I smirked. “I told you to stay out of my room?”
Awareness dawned on Six’s features. She blushed, but she didn’t offer up an explanation, and weirdly, I liked it. She wasn’t afraid of me, not really, and she was more than willing to go head to head with me. I reluctantly had to admit that her take no bullshit attitude was really fucking attractive to me.
“Did you…” Pausing, she clasped her hands together. “Um, the girl in the drawing.” She sat back down on my bed. “Did you draw her…I mean, was she…ugh!” Groaning, Six shook her head.
“Did I what, Six?” I asked, thoroughly enjoying how uncomfortable she clearly was.
“Is she a real person?” Six blurted out, looking angry at herself. “The girl in the drawing. The one with the ugh…piercing on her…”
“Clit?” I offered, smothering a laugh.
“Yeah. Um, her.” Six cringed. “Did you draw her in real life?” She puffed her cheeks and shifted uncomfortably. “If not, you have one hell of an accurate imagination.”
I almost choked on my laughter. Of course I didn’t draw her in real life. It was Jessica Rabbit for fuck’s sake. “It’s just a sketch I did one night when I was bored and horny.”
Six looked up at me with a pained expression. “Dear god,” she muttered with a shake of her head. “Why are we even having this conversation?”
&
nbsp; Walking over to my bed, I sank down beside her and grinned. “Why are you blushing?”
“I’m not blushing, asshole,” she growled.
“Yeah, you fucking are.” Unable to stop myself, I reached over and tipped her chin upwards. Big grey eyes greeted me. “See.” I stroked my thumb over her burning cheek. “Blush.”
I expected Six to hit me for touching her, she was unpredictable as fuck, but she didn’t. She didn’t move away either. She surprised the hell out of me by leaving into my touch, so much so that I ended up cupping her cheek.
“Why are you touching me?” she whispered, eyes locked on mine.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, unable to respond to a question I wasn’t too entirely sure of the answer to. “Why aren’t you pushing me away?”
She shrugged, but didn’t pull away from me. “I don’t know.”
What the hell was this?
What was happening here?
“Mercy! There you are?” Cassidy’s voice came from my doorway, breaking the weird tension between us, and causing Six to jerk away from me.
“Mom.” Flushed, Six turned her attention to her mother. Biting back the urge to growl, I turned and glared at my father’s wife. “What’s up?”
“I was planning on heading into town to do some shopping,” Cassidy announced, looking from Six’s face to mine with curious eyes. “Wanna come?” Her eyes landed on mine again. “Hello, Rourke.”
Jaw clenched, I forced a nod. That was all she was getting from me and she was lucky to get that.
“No,” Six replied with a sigh. She glanced nervously at me before standing up. “I’m broke until Thursday.”
Cassidy sighed impatiently. “I told you,” she began, pouting. “Money is not an issue.”
No. It wasn’t an issue, because it was my fucking money.
Goddammit.
“Mom!” Six looked back at me, clearly embarrassed, but I was too pissed to care.
“Mind discussing your shopping trip somewhere else?” I sneered, thoroughly fucking disgusted.
“Rourke –”
“In the future, stay the fuck out of my room, Six,” I shot back, my voice laced with disgust. I was disgusted with myself. For a minute there, I’d almost forgotten about what that girl was all about. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
