Babyjacked

by Sosie Frost

  I changed the subject.

  “Thanks for the offer,” I said. “But I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Oh. Is your girlfriend there?”

  “Cassi?”

  “Yeah.”

  I paused. “No.”

  Emma’s annoyed sigh was practically prophetic. “What the hell did you do this time?”

  The phone was getting annoying. There was a reason I hardly used it. My fingers ached while I clutched the damn thing. “I didn’t do anything.”

  And that was the biggest problem.

  “You already lost her once, jackass. Did you break up with her again?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Emma hooted. “Bullshit. You’re a goddamned coward.”

  I gritted my teeth, but I wasn’t about to cuss out my sister when she was only a couple months out of rehab. Supposed to be supportive and compassionate and not hope that she’d choke on her phone.

  “She’s dealing with shit with her family,” I said. “Marius got hurt overseas.”

  “Oh, no. He was so cute.”

  “Hopefully, you’ll find him cute with one less leg.”

  “…Probably.”

  “Cassi is helping her family now. Went home. We broke it off.”

  “Oh. Did you lose a leg?”

  I frowned. “No.”

  “So, you still got two functional ones?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then why don’t you march your skinny ass down to the farm and help her too. She’ll need it.”

  “Oh, Christ, Em—”

  “Don’t you take that tone with me, Remington. You know goddamned well what you’re doing, and I’m sick to death of it. At least my vice came in a little baggie. Yours is stuck between those lopsided ears.”

  “I did what I thought was right.”

  “You let her get away.”

  “I let her go.”

  “Oh, you are so freaking magnanimous.”

  Now my temper flared. The Marshalls had a family rule. Someone else starts it, you finish it. Probably why the rest of the town hated us.

  “Look, you know she’s better than me,” I said.

  “Says who?”

  “Says everyone.”

  Emma snorted. “And why would they say that?”

  “Because we’re trash, Emma. For Christ’s sake.”

  A steely silence. I regretted the words.

  “Are you calling my little girls trash?”

  I practically heaved. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Then you better take those words back right fucking now.”

  “Em, you know as well as I do that those girls are better than us. They deserve more than what we had. So does Cassi.”

  “And you think you can’t give that life to these kids or to Cassi without sitting up all alone on your mountain?” The realization hit her pretty quick. “Fuck, you’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great. So instead of telling that girl you love her, you’re going to run far away, never speak to us again, and pretend none of this exists.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “You’re such a selfish asshole.”

  Goddamn it. I flung the beer bottle at the wall. The glass shattered. I reached for a new beer, but my fingers grazed a jagged piece near my chair. Blood blossomed over my hand. I swore. A handkerchief caught most of the blood. The cut wasn’t bad, but it should’ve been worse, just to punish me.

  Emma sighed. “Is this about that ridiculous fire?”

  “Yes.”

  “You told me what happened back then, but I don’t know if it’s worth believing.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Because you never tell the truth, not when a lie means you could bask in your own worthlessness for a while longer.”

  “I’m not doing this for me. I’ve never done anything for myself.”

  “Except deliberately hurt yourself.” Emma snorted. “At least I used a drug, Rem. I never used other people.”

  “I’m protecting everyone else—especially the Paynes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they gave me a roof, food, and work when I needed it. And I don’t want to see anything destroy that family. I left before the truth came out.”

  Emma’s voice softened. “What about our family?”

  “We didn’t have a family.”

  “Yeah…” She hesitated before swearing once more. “But you had me.”

  “What?”

  “You know, I could have used my brother these last couple years. It’s been kinda rough, Rem.”

  “You didn’t need me. Christ, I’m the one who made you this way. Rehab did more for you than I ever did.”

  “But I needed you there. I needed you to tell me to get help.”

  Shit.

  I wobbled on my feet. Four beers in an hour with nothing on my stomach except shame. I gripped the timber frame and steadied myself.

  “Em, I’m…”

  “Don’t bother.” Her words slapped like a hand to my cheek. “Doesn’t matter now. I wouldn’t even know if you’re being sincere or not. You’d blame yourself for everyone else’s sins again.”

  “I’m trying to do what’s right.” Even I didn’t believe it. “I’m…trying to be a good man.”

  Emma’s voice layered thick with disappointment and resignation. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You want to be alone, fine. You want to pretend this is the only way. So be it. I’m glad you’re leaving. Glad you’re gonna get away from my kids.”

  “Emma—”

  “I’d hate to have them grow up and see their uncle for who he really is.” She grunted. “Or worse—get hurt by him.”

  “I would never—“

  “You already are. Don’t you see? Being alone doesn’t make you a good man.” Her words fell to a whisper. “Go live in your lies. No one will miss a selfish bastard if he’s living alone.”

  She ended the call.

  I didn’t blame her.

  My hand ached. I checked the handkerchief. Bloody, but not dangerous. Needed to be wrapped though. I pushed off the timber to head back to the house.

  Stopped.

  A streak of blood stained my newest project.

  And the sight sickened me.

  The crib was meant to be something transitional for Tabby. When she got bigger, I’d take it apart and turn it into a “big-girl” bed that she’d love. Something beautiful and perfect and the only thing that I ever thought I could offer such a sweet little girl.

  Not a hug. Not a cuddle. Not a song when her tummy ached or a quick tidal wave in the tub.

  I wasn’t the guy who’d ever be good enough to kiss a boo-boo, hold her hand at the bus stop, or chase away the first boys who’d start hanging around her or Mellie.

  But I could do this.

  I could make them something they needed. Something they could use. Something sturdy and strong that would last them forever.

  It wasn’t enough.

  I ignored my bleeding hand and collapsed to the floor, my back to the crib.

  A lie was a lie.

  Alone was alone.

  And nothing I did would ever change what had been done.

  I’d punished myself for those past deeds, and I’d tried to protect everyone else by closing off.

  It worked. Too well.

  I didn’t want to hurt anyone.

  But I didn’t want to be so goddamned alone.

  20

  Cassi

  My suitcase still didn’t close.

  Duct tape would do the trick until I got another set of luggage.

  Until I had a place to go. Somewhere I could run where it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

  Too bad I couldn’t go back in time.

  At least my brothers had learned to politely rap on the door before barging into my room. All it took was one late-night intrusion while my hands were busy under the blankets, and my humiliation awarded me priv
acy. Still wasn’t able to look Tidus in the eyes though.

  Tidus entered first. Reluctantly, he made way for Jules too.

  I didn’t have much to say to either of them. They talked anyway.

  “Doctors called.” Jules sat on my bed, grimaced, then stood and gestured to the bed as if asking permission. A step in the right direction. Now if he’d stop using my conditioner, we’d be set. “Marius is moving out of the ICU tomorrow. Transferring to a different wing in the hospital.”

  “I know.” I set my suitcase near the door. “I talked to Marius this morning.”

  “Oh.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “And when was the last time you talked to Marius?”

  Jules shrugged. Tidus cleared his throat.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Well, I’m glad you heard it from the doctors instead of your brother.”

  Jules rubbed his face. Exhaustion marred my eldest brother’s features. The grey in his temples had started to spread. Not much, but more than had been there before he’d started calculating the cost of the equipment we needed to get the farm operational.

  “Marius and I aren’t…” Jules must have hoped that I’d finish his thought. Nope. I wasn’t covering for their petty fights anymore. “It was easier when he was still unconscious.”

  “Yeah, forgiveness is a bitch,” I said.

  Tidus glanced at the suitcase. He read my mind, as usual. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re your brothers. We’re supposed to be miserable. But I don’t like seeing my sister upset.”

  I crossed my arms. “I’m not upset.”

  Jules frowned. “Liar.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Tidus agreed. “Liar.”

  “What do you want from me?” I gestured to my old room, my bed, my own corner of Butterpond where nothing ever changed, people never forgave each other, and the water tasted a little oily. “I’m fine.”

  “Where’s Rem?” Jules asked.

  Oh, he wanted to open that can of worms? “Since when do you care?”

  “Since you started to care about him.”

  My turn. “Liar.”

  “Well,” Tidus swore. “Guess we’re all big sacks of shit lying to each other, aren’t we?”

  Jules nodded. “Guess so.”

  “Well, what happened?” Tidus awkwardly asked the questions neither of them wanted to be answered. “I thought…things were going well.”

  Was that before or after the entire town berated Rem? “It was going good until you accused him of taking advantage of me. You remember…when you insulted him in front of the family and the little girls he was raising?” The words ached. I gave up. “Doesn’t matter. You were right. Happy now?”

  “If you think I’m happy that you’re upset—"

  “Forget it.” I batted Jules and his dusty feet away from my area rug and leaned against the window. “I knew he was bad news five years ago.”

  “And now?” Jules asked.

  “He’s even worse.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Jules smirked. “Well, yeah. But I always thought he was one paycheck short of becoming a criminal and one cigarette too many to be a choir boy.” He paused. “But you never believed that.”

  Tidus teased me, his voice pitched chipmunk high. “He’s changed, guys. He’s different now.” I pitched a water bottle at his head. He caught it with a grin. “What do you really think, Sassy?”

  If I spoke it out loud I’d need a pint of Ben and Jerry’s to get through the conversation and then another to wash down the bitterness.

  “I think he’s a good man and a complete idiot,” I said.

  Jules didn’t argue. “There it is.”

  “I’m serious. He’s hellbent on living this life of isolation, like he’s ashamed of himself or what he’s done. He doesn’t think he’s a good influence on the girls—he won’t even go over to Emma’s and visit them. He’s constantly lying to hide what happened in the past…”

  I stared outside, over the farm, admiring the landscaping and hedge work Jules had done. It looked nice. Neat. Like how Dad used to have it. When life was simpler, and I had all the time in the world to let myself get hurt.

  “He’s more of an idiot now than he was five years ago,” I said. “Like he has a reason to act so selfishly.”

  Tidus tossed the water bottle to me. I took a quick swig. It didn’t stop the inopportune hiccups.

  “Look, Cas, there’s a lot you don’t know about Rem.” Tidus cracked his knuckles. Nervous. Looked like he’d wanted a smoke, but Quint had stuffed his cigarettes down the garbage disposal in the heat of a fight. “He is a good guy—he really is. Deep down. I know Jules doesn’t believe it, but I wouldn’t be the man I am today without him.”

  I believed him.

  I wanted to believe Tidus.

  But what good did it do now?

  “It doesn’t matter.” I puffed a lock of hair out of my face. “Who can even remember five years ago?”

  Jules raised his hand. Tidus smacked his shoulder.

  “He doesn’t want to change,” I said. “He doesn’t want to make this work. He says he’s running to protect us, but he won’t say from what. So fine. I won’t make him stay. I put my life on hold for him once. I can’t do it again.”

  Jules nodded to the suitcase against the wall. “So you’re leaving too?”

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “There’s a farm here that could use some work.”

  “I’ve been working the farm, Jules. Maybe not cutting back the trees and tilling any dirt, but…” God, why did the tears have to come now? Everything was always so much easier if I didn’t talk about it. Maybe Rem had it right. “I took care of Dad day in and day out. I made his meals. I helped him shower. I gave him his medicine. I was with him when he died. Maybe I didn’t plant corn, but I held this farm together for as long as I could.” My throat tightened. “And none of you were here to help.”

  Tidus looked away, but, for the first time, Jules didn’t. He took my hand, tugged me close, and kissed my forehead.

  “We’re here now, Cas,” he said.

  And it made it better.

  And worse.

  And so much harder.

  Jules still gave me the option. “What will you do?”

  I sucked in a reluctant breath. “Why would I stay? Dad’s gone. Every day is a struggle. No one is happy, and I’m trapped in the middle. Don’t I deserve a chance to have a life too?”

  Tidus was better with a fist-to-jaw than a heart-to-heart. “That’s our fault, Sassy. We can make it better for you. Make the effort.”

  “You wouldn’t just leave, would you?” Jules remained stoic, but I heard the worry. “You’re the only one who knows where Dad kept anything. Without you, I wouldn’t have found the five-grand taped under the mattress.”

  Tidus scowled. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You found five grand? Where is it?”

  “I put it in the tax fund.”

  “What tax fund?”

  Jules lost his patience. “You like this house?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You like the land?”

  “I’ve seen better.”

  “Well, right now it’s all you got, and if you don’t want Sawyer County to own all of it, yeah. We need a tax fund.”

  Tidus without a cigarette in his mouth tended to talk more than he should. “We don’t got a working hot water heater that can handle six people in a house, but that’s just fine. We’ll freeze our dicks off while you hoard money.”

  I groaned. “Tidus.”

  “Sorry. Freeze our asses. Gender-fucking-neutral.”

  “This is what I mean!” I meant to redo my pony tail. Nearly ripped my hair out instead. “This constant bickering. All the time. Can you blame me for wanting to leave? For needing to get away from this negativity? If this keeps up, every fruit and vegetable we grow will be ju
st as bitter as all of you!”

  “So that’s it?” Jules crossed his arms. “You’re gonna look us in the eye, bitch about Rem taking off, and then follow his example.”

  “Why not?”

  Jules tightened his jaw. “One word. Marius.”

  Son of a bitch. I knew he’d throw that in my face. Just like Rem. Just like them all.

  They assumed I’d just drop everything to take care of the family.

  No fights. No protest. Not even a simple question asked in honest and good faith—Hey, Cassi, do you think you could help Marius while he recovers?

  I’d done it before, so I must have wanted to do it again. I must have wanted to sacrifice and scrimp and save and put everything on hold for a family that refused to stay together.

  They wouldn’t talk unless I locked them in a room. They wouldn’t work together unless they meant to destroy my relationship with the only man I’d ever loved. They wouldn’t even pray together over their injured brother, suffering in the hospital with a devastating prognosis.

  Something had to change.

  And it started now.

  I grabbed my suitcase and tossed it at Jules.

  He ducked, but the luggage bounced off his side and rattled to the ground. The tape didn’t hold. It popped open.

  Empty.

  “I’m not going anywhere, you jackasses.” I met both of their stunned gazes. “But I’m not taking care of Marius.”

  The silence crackled. I let it pass with a single, steady breath.

  “We are going to take care of Marius,” I said. “Together. Not just me, but everyone. We’re a goddamned family. We might hate each other, but for Christ’s sake, we’re not going to abandon one and other.”

  Tidus didn’t hesitate. He swept me into a hug and swore.

  “Thank Christ,” he said. “Now I don’t have to stalk you through Ironfield.”

  Jules wasn’t good with anything emotional, but he gave me a smile. “You’re right. We should all pitch in. Take care of Marius…and take care of you.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “I know what you want to do.”

  “Create a schedule for the showers?” I smirked. “Claim my own shelf in the pantry?”

  Jules frowned. “You want to stop Rem.”

  The room suddenly felt a little too tight. I hardly had room to pace, let alone bare my soul.