by Evie Harper
My tears finally fall and suddenly my knees can’t hold me up a second longer. My brother and I sink to the floor together. Rex still holding onto me tightly, as if trying to fuse himself to my body as if I’m somehow giving him strength or he’s hoping I can.
Rex breaks down. His painful cries tear my heart apart. His howls aren’t silent or controlled, they’re pure agony to hear.
I try to say something, but instead of words, a sob escapes. Staring down at the blood on my arms. I cry because my brother is in so much pain. I have tears because people we trusted and brought into our home have betrayed us. I’m heartbroken because the man I love had a part in ripping my family apart, but mostly I’m shattered from guilt because I can’t find it within myself to truly care that my father is dead.
Chapter Two
Present Day
Mackson
“Get your hands off me, Mack,” Lana seethes and yanks her arm out of my grasp. She peers around Della’s room, my guess looking for an exit, but she won’t find one. Only a window and a long fall to the ground.
Slater wants Lana here for the next seven days, so this is where she’s going to stay. Hopefully, Rex comes to his senses and values his sister’s life more than his revenge and he agrees to Slater’s terms of ending this war once and for all.
I stare down at Lana with potent hatred and extreme need. My fingers itch to get lost between her white, soft strands of hair and my body begs me to skim against hers, desperate to feel the heat of her skin… it’s been a long time.
She meets my stare, and for a moment, it’s as if taking a step back in time.
“Hey, Dove.” The words leave my mouth before I can catch them and the soft, sweet tone betrays my true hatred for her.
Anyone else would have missed the sharp inhale and a quick flash of shock which crosses her features. But not me, not the man who watched her so often as a boy, then a youth becoming a man, and falling in love with the wrong girl.
When I originally met Lana, the instant I saw her she reminded me of a dove. First because of her white, shiny hair and second, she looked too good for this place. If anyone was going to leave Portland and have a better life it was going to be her, or so I thought it would be. Apparently I was mistaken.
My eyes trail down her curvy frame. Five years and Lana hasn’t changed much at all. Her normally pale skin now lightly tanned, but her five-foot height still only reaches my nose. Her body continues to torment me with a pair of denim shorts, cupping her firm ass and leading down to a pair of sexy legs. My eyes roam over her green top and land on a gorgeous swell of tits.
Lana takes a step back suddenly, and the movement forces my stare to shift from her chest to her chocolate brown eyes, which used to hold my salvation. If it was possible, I’m sure her eyes would be spitting sparks from the fury vibrating around her.
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice is timid and breathless as if the wind was knocked out her. “Never again, Mackson. That time in our lives is over and done with.” Lana’s voice shocks me with the sudden fierceness in her tone.
I might have even felt hurt if I hadn’t been so surprised by her display of strength and confidence. It appears Lana has changed. The Lana I used to know was full of hesitation, she’d sooner turn her back on someone and stew on the problems than face the person head on. And she definitely never had a tone which went that low and angry.
Why do I care?
I don’t. However, her new defiance and show of courage sends a surprise jolt to my cock. Jesus. I need to get the fuck away from her as soon as possible or I’m going do something I will regret, something my shredded heart will hate me for later.
My stare turns cold making sure she understands exactly how I feel about her and then I leave the room without a word.
Not knowing where the hell Slater wants me to put Lana, I leave the woman from my past in Della’s room and slam the door. I lean against the wall, struggling to get my breathing under control. Lifting my right hand I place it over my chest, my heart jackhammering against my ribs, each thump a betrayal, my own body working against me.
I bend down and rest my hands on my thighs, breathing in and out slowly. “Fuck.” I shake my head, unable to believe after five fucking years she still affects me this way. Lana Scavello still owns my fucking heart, and that fact alone makes me hate her even more.
I stand up straight having finally calmed down. I gotta get out of here for a while. As soon as Slater gets back, I’m gone.
Pacer comes running upstairs with one of the dining room chairs. I stand back while he secures the top of the chair under the door handle, making it impossible for the handle to be turned. Pacer begins to speak, but I put a finger to my lips to silence him. I want to see if Lana will go for the door handle when she thinks we’ve gone downstairs or if she will be a good captive and sit down and wait her time out.
Lana from five years ago was full of doubts, she’d go inside of herself for hours thinking and stewing over everything before coming to a decision.
At the same time our heads whip around to the door when we hear our sister’s bedroom window being opened and a loud splintering sound.
No, she wouldn’t?
Both Pacer and I furiously start pulling the chair from the door when we hear the distinct sound of the fly screen window bouncing down the roof and off the ledge. Christ.
“Lana, don’t you dare climb out that window,” I shout. My heart threatens to explode with thoughts of her walking across our roof and possibly jumping.
No, she wouldn’t jump.
Not the Lana I remember.
“Screw you, Mack,” she yells back.
My lips tip up and my mouth itches to call back that I already have, but then a frown crosses my features as I remember where that screwing got me—a broken heart.
We finally get the door open and my eyes find two legs hanging inside the window.
“Shit,” my older brother whispers beside me.
I jump into action and grab Lana’s ankle just as it’s about to disappear out the window.
Lana screams and starts kicking her leg around crazily.
“Lana, get the hell back in here before you fall and fucking kill yourself,” I growl.
Lana stills for a split second and then her sandaled foot kicks straight into my dick and I grunt in pain, bending trying to catch my breath from the surprise hit. Pacer grimaces and laughs at the same time.
“Bitch,” I whisper.
“I heard that, Mackson,” Lana yells.
“Don’t fucking kick me then. Jesus, Lana, you got thick wedges on those shoes, it’s not a fucking walk in the park having one of them shoved into my goddamned dick.”
Lana is using a lot of strength trying to pull her leg from me and she has her other foot on the roof on an incline. She must have hold of something, probably the bars that sit on top of the windows that are bolted to the roof.
“Pacer, grab her other foot and pull it in.”
Hearing my words, Lana begins to kick her leg outwards in all different directions and then something catches my eye on her thigh just above where her denim shorts sit.
It’s a tattoo… a tattoo of a key.
Without thinking, I drop her leg, and Lana squeals loudly and Pacer curses while quickly stretching out his arms ready to catch her.
I take a step back from the window. Memories assaulting me, sending me back to a time that I desperately don’t want to be dragged back to.
“I want you to get a key to my lock. I want that and so much more with you.”
There’s a loud grunt and I blink, my eyes clearing the fog I’ve gotten lost in. Pacer is still struggling with Lana’s legs, trying to get her back inside the house.
Not even thinking I stalk toward the window and climb up onto the ledge. “Let Lana’s legs go, I’m going up to get her,” I explain to Pacer on my way out the window.
“Thank fuck,” my brother replies as he carefully places her feet on the ledge.
&
nbsp; I grab the edge of the window on the outside and pull my body up to standing. First, I’m hit with a warm breeze and next an icy stare from a breathless and flushed Lana.
“Mackson, let me go or I’m climbing down this roof and if that ends in me with a broken leg or arm then so be it. I refuse to be a pawn in Rex and Slater’s stupid games.”
She reaches down, unstraps her sandals and throws her shoes off the roof. I don’t give a fuck about her words or her shoes. I need an answer and I need it now.
I take one hand from the window and grasp the top of her arm. I know my grip is tighter than I would normally use on a woman. And that’s confirmed when Lana’s head swings to me, and for the first time I see real fear in her eyes, panic that I may hurt her.
“You got my key,” I accuse in a harsh tone.
Her eyebrows squish together and she frowns. “Your key?”
“Tattoo,” I growl.
Lana’s whole body visually tenses. She quickly glances down to her leg and then back up to me.
“Yeah, I saw it, and now I want to know why the fuck you got my tattoo on your body.”
“It’s not what you think.” Her words are rushed and her voice is soft. The first sign of the Lana I used to know, the anxiety in her tone throws my mood off balance and my anger begins to recede.
My grip loosens on her arm and I demand, “Get back in the house, Lana. Now.”
Lana looks left to right; her hair blowing in the wind. She’s searching for an escape that isn’t there, the only way off this roof is by falling off it.
“Pacer,” I shout, and then quickly, I kick my right foot out and into the back of Lana’s calves.
She squeals as her legs are taken out from below her, but it’s enough of a shock that she finally lets go of the metal railing and I’m able to catch and lower her to Pacer. I jump through the window and land easily on my feet, finding Pacer by the closed door and Lana on the other side of the room pacing like a caged animal.
I pin Lana with a stare while talking to my brother. “Pacer give us a minute.”
“Okay.” He drags out the word and I can feel his stare on me as he leaves. Through the now closed door I hear him say, “This day is getting weirder and weirder by the fucking hour.”
“No games, Lana. I want to know why you have that specific tattoo on your body, and I want to know right fucking now.”
“Games Mack? That’s your form of entertainment, not mine.”
What the fuck?
“You know what that…” I point to her thigh, the tattoo still hidden under her denim shorts “…meant to me. It was meant for the woman I loved, the woman who stood by me, a strong woman.”
Lana pales at my words and my chest physically aches from seeing the hurt on her face, knowing it was me who put it there. All these years, all the pain I’ve felt because of her, it’s all coming to the forefront. I look to the ground and run a hand through my hair while trying to figure out a way to apologize to the woman who shattered my heart, who should be the one saying sorry to me.
“I pity the woman who ends up with you, Mackson King,” Lana seethes. And there goes any apology I may have had on the tip of my tongue. “Yes, I got the key tattoo. But I got it as a reminder, so I would never forget that words are cheap, lies are everywhere, and trust is for fools.”
Lana lifts up one side of her shorts and shows me the tattoo clearly. It’s beautiful. The bow of the key has an intricate design that flows all the way to the tip, where six cuts are made into buildings. They appear to be drawn to look like castles and beneath the key in calligraphy are the words, ‘Once Upon A Time.’
“Love is just that… a fairytale. Stories, which came from someone’s imagination and not from our world because it’s not real.”
Hearing Lana’s unemotional voice, I force my eyes away from the tattoo and to her face.
“You had love, real love and then you fucked it up, Lana. You weren’t strong enough to hold onto it,” I say the last part gently because no matter how much anger I have for her, her insecurities back then weren’t her fault. They were her father’s, but as much as I’d love to lay all the blame on Jae, he didn’t force Lana into bed with another man.
A sarcastic laugh bursts from Lana’s mouth. “Real love? Well, Mack, if you had have told me five years ago that real love was killing my father, disappearing and never coming back, then fuck I would’ve held tight to that love.”
“I came back for you,” I reply sharply.
How fucking dare she blame me for us falling apart?
I’m no goddamned saint, but I’m not the one who decided we were done.
Lana’s whole body locks up at my words. “You did not,” she says quickly.
“Yeah, I did. Right, when I saw just how weak you were. When you took Corey fucking Lowe to your bed.”
Lana stumbles a few steps and grabs hold of the bed frame. “You came back?”
Chapter Three
Lana
He came back? It’s strange, a heart I thought dead long ago begins to skip a beat.
My mouth dries instantly and suddenly my chest refuses to inhale or exhale. The day my father died was the last time I saw Mackson King. He never called, he at no time wrote, and he never came back. His betrayal was like a knife being twisted in my spine. Slow twists—the first was to gain my attention, the second to get me to care, the third when he had me fall in love with him. And the last—the most fatal twist of all—was when he had me believing in myself.
And now he’s saying he did return, and at the worst possible time too. He’d not answered one of my calls, returned any of my text messages, and Slater had admitted to killing my father. I begged Mack for a reason; I told him I’d understand. All I needed to know was why. An answer to my question, it was something I deserved.
It was two months later when Rex finally told me Slater’s reasoning for killing my father. A reason my brother fervently denied could ever be true. I didn’t know what to believe, but I would at no time stand up for my father whether he was innocent or not. He never earned that right from me.
But Mack gave me nothing, not a single word back to give me hope that I hadn’t just been fooled in the worst possible way. I was shattered, my brother broken and promising revenge on the one who killed our father and their entire family, one of those men I loved deeply.
It had been three weeks, with no word from Mack, and Corey was just there. Right time, wrong frame of mind. Corey had been there my entire life and he’d cared for me long before I knew it.
I never could see past Mackson King.
It was a moment of weakness, one of many in my life. It’s taken me close to five years to build up what my father stripped away from me. I didn’t have confidence instilled in me from birth like my friends. I never had a parent tell me that time passes and hurts would fade. My positive experiences all boiled down to seconds, minutes and hours with Mackson, and he broke my heart into a million pieces.
“I knew Jae messed with your mind, but to do that to me? I made promises to you Lana, I gave you all of me, opened up and told you about my past, my nightmares, about my hopes and dreams for what’s to come. A future I wanted with you, and still that wasn’t good enough for you. Three goddamn weeks and you were in bed with another man. Weak, that’s all you are.”
Mack’s words sting, their truths the sharp points digging into my skin. I nod, agreeing with him. His eyes narrow and he closes his mouth tight, no doubt wondering what game I’m playing.
After my father had passed, I had a lot to learn and I did it all the hard way. I had to find out who I was without my father putting me down or slamming shut every open door in my path. I had to respect myself before anyone else could. And that took me learning hard lessons about myself, and a lot of stumbling on my part. Real friends, fake friends, bad boyfriends and good guys, who I just couldn’t fall for.
“I can’t imagine how it must’ve felt to walk in on that, Mack.” My voice trembles as I imagine the reverse, i
f I had to see him with another woman. That would have rocked me to the core, destroyed everything inside me.
Mack huffs, pain etched into his features. He places his right hand over his heart, his hand curling into a fist, grasping his shirt fiercely. “You have no fucking idea what it took for me to walk away. To not storm into your room, kill Corey and to show you the evidence of how badly you destroyed me that day.”
Five years of searching every thought and feeling for who I am, making mistakes and also making right decisions, didn’t lead me to become a walkover anymore. I grew into a woman, who learned what I do and don’t deserve in this life, and there isn’t much I don’t deserve. I’m a good person who had crappy parents and I’m proud of who I am today, who I’ve become. Those low moments and massive highs of finding myself didn’t lead me to stand here and take shit from Mackson King. In my eyes he’s still the man who left me when my father died, he’s still the man who didn’t have the decency to talk to me. He wants to talk about being destroyed, bring it on.
“Was your mobile phone broken?” Mack’s head jerks back at my question. “Did you lose your voice?” This time his eyes narrow as he sees where I’m going with this. “Were your fingers broken?” Mack’s stance changes as he readies himself to reply. “Were your legs broken?”
“I. Came. Back.” He says each word clearly.
“Three weeks, Mackson,” I point out bitterly.
Mack’s head jolts back and his body stiffens from my sudden burst of anger. In any other moment, I might care about my appearance, knowing my veins are close to popping and my eyes are wide. I must look insane, but my rage is in control now. I will not take all the blame for us falling apart. I had a part, yes, but I’m not completely to blame.
