MAC
“It’s the cast,” I complain to Jake when I lose at another round of Deadliest Warrior, a video game I’m teaching him to play. After having had the plaster on for two weeks, I’m slowly losing the will to live. Who breaks their wrist in the middle of a heatwave? The combined itching and sweating has me on a rampage that no one, bar Jake, has been able to put up with. “It’s wrecking my co-ordination.”
A pathetic lie, but I’ve been playing this game forever and somehow Jake has beginner’s luck. I’ve learned from long ago never to admit defeat. Not in this house. It’s better to quit playing rather than risk losing another round, so I toss my controller on the sofa beside me and let my head loll back against the cushion.
“You don’t want another round?” he asks.
“I’d rather have a tooth pulled,” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that?” Jake’s eyes crinkle with amusement. He heard me.
“You mean does she want another thrashing?” Jared snorts from the recliner beside the sofa. He reaches across and snatches my abandoned controller. “Mac, you suck at this game.”
Straightening in my seat, I curl the fingers of my right hand around the cast and hold it up in a threat. “Come a bit closer and say that.”
Jared laughs and leans forward, within swinging distance. I know his plan is to pull back at the last minute so I’ll look lame hitting air, but Jake taught me a little something the other day about core strength and how it gives a punch more speed and power.
I tighten every muscle I have, plant my feet hard against the floor, and I jab with force. Sharp stabbing pain ricochets up my forearm, and Jared reels back. The controller clatters to the floor.
“Sonofabitch,” he hisses, holding a hand to his eye.
“Holy shit!” I cry out, shocked at making contact. I want to bust out a victory dance, but I’m in a world of hurt. White lights dance across my vision and a cold sweat breaks over my brow.
“Mac!” Jake tosses aside his own controller and half stands from his chair on my left. I throw out my good arm, warding him off. “I’m fine,” I bite out through gritted teeth as Jared flounders like a turtle on its back. “Just let me enjoy the moment.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he cautions.
Jake’s right. There’s no time for that. My brother is going to recover any second and launch a serious counterattack. “Let’s get out of here.”
We stumble over gaming console cords in our haste to leave the living area. “Mac!” Jared shouts at our rapidly retreating backs. “You are so fucked!”
“Jared!” Mum’s yell comes from the kitchen just moments after I slam the front door behind us.
“How’s your arm?” Jake asks, stepping off the patio behind me.
Throbbing like a bitch. “It’s fine. That punch though, it was awesome, right?”
“Very impressive. Just like we practiced.” He glances at me, a grin on his face and eyes squinting from the midday sun. “Remind me never to piss you off, ok?”
“You already do. Every day.” He doesn’t. “When are you leaving again?” I tease as we walk down the driveway. Our house is located in Balmain, an inner-west suburb of Sydney. It’s an expensive area, but we aren’t wealthy like most of the neighbours in our street. The house belonged to my grandparents. They passed away long before I arrived in the world, so it’s the only home I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine how Jake handles living in a bunch of different foster houses.
I glance across at him as we continue down the road, heading toward Mort Bay Park by the harbour. The grin has slipped from his face. The underlying reality is that Jake’s stay with us is temporary and not something we talk about. “I can leave now if my staying here bothers you.”
I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I was only joking.”
Jake stops right in the middle of the road. He looks me in the eye when I stop beside him. “I know, Mac, but I’ll be leaving as soon as another foster home becomes available anyway.”
My stomach sinks at hearing my fear verbalised. “Leaving where?”
“Wherever.” His eyes darken and I see weariness in their depths. “I don’t get to choose.”
“Maybe you can, Jake. Stay with us. Permanently. I’m sure Mum and Dad would consider—”
He cuts me off. “No.”
“No? Just like that? You won’t even ask?”
“No, Mac, I won’t. It’s not …” Jake’s lips press together. “I can’t ask them to do that.”
My brows draw together. Why won’t he even try? “Yes. You can.”
“You don’t get it, Princess.”
“What don’t I get?”
He glances down. I follow his gaze and see his palm held out in invitation. I slide my hand in his, shivering at the connection when his fingers tighten around mine. “That. How can I ask to stay when I feel this for you? It’s not right.”
I raise my head until our eyes meet and my heart skips a beat. He feels something for me? I have a sudden urgent need to know exactly what that is. “How do you feel?”
Jake pauses for a moment, his expression hard and intense. It makes him seem so much older than his fifteen years. “Like I belong to you, Mackenzie Valentine. That’s how I feel.”
JAKE
I take a step forward and lean in close. Mac tilts her head upward and before I can think about what I’m doing, I press my lips to hers. They’re softer than clouds and she smells so good, like a combination of sunshine and flowers. My head spins under the hot sun and my pulse skyrockets. I pull back quickly. I’ve never kissed a girl before, but kissing Mac is something I’ve thought about a million times—just not something I ever planned to do. It’s like the saying “don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” though in this instance it’s more a case of “don’t mess around with the daughter of the parents who house you.”
Mac stares up at me, seemingly speechless for once.
“I’m sorry,” I say on a rough breath.
“Sorry?” Her eyes drop to my lips before rising again. “Sorry for what?”
“For kissing you.”
“I’m not,” she says boldly. “Do it again.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Kiss me again, Jake. I liked it.”
She liked it? Mac liked me kissing her? I apologised because I figured she’d be mad for taking liberties, but if she wants me to do it again, I’m not even going to hesitate.
I put my hands on her hips and Mac puts hers on my shoulders, waiting. It’s awkward, but it’s also the sweetest, hottest moment of my entire life and I never want it to end.
My lips find hers again, and her hands skim over my shoulders, twining around my neck as her fingers trail through the ends of my hair.
I could stand here all day, but we’re on the road. Even though it’s a quiet street, it’s possible we could get mowed down at any moment. The thought of putting Mac in the hospital a second time is enough incentive to have me pulling back.
“Don’t leave,” she tells me, her lips swollen and eyes unfocused in a way I’ve never seen before. Her slender fingers tighten their hold on me. “Stay.”
I stare down at her and realise she doesn’t mean right now in this moment, she means permanently. In the Valentine household. I want it so much I can taste it, but she’s asking the impossible. She’s asking me to do what I know is the wrong thing.
“I can’t.”
Mac lifts her chin. Frustration lines her brow. “You can.”
“But I won’t. I told you before, it’s not right.”
“Screw what’s right.” She steps back, anger flaring. “What about me? About us? What if they move you so far away I never see you again?”
I hesitate, my lungs squeezing at the thought. “They won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re right, I don’t, but you don’t have to think the worst.”
“Expecting the worst means never being disappointed.”
“That’s not true. Just because you know something bad is coming doesn’t make it hurt any less when it happens. Trust me, Princess.”
“Don’t lecture me,” Mac snaps.
She turns, heading back toward the house. My eyes follow her as she stalks her way up the street. “You’re just going to stomp off in a hissy fit?”
Mac spins around and walks backward. “Hissy fit? Screw you, Jake Romero.”
“You still haven’t grown up, have you, Mac?”
An angry growl escapes her throat, but she doesn’t say anything. She just turns back around and keeps walking, leaving me standing by the side of the road.
“Well that went well,” I mutter, coming to the realisation that kissing Mackenzie Valentine was stupid as fuck.
MAC
“Mac?” my mum calls out when the front door slams behind me. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” I call back, heading straight for my room. I need a minute to process that kiss. That kiss. Oh my god.
She walks out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Is Jake with you?”
Taking in her serious expression, I pause on the first stair. She’s relaxed her rule of late on the “getting attached” issue, but I think it’s mostly because I don’t listen and she’s tired of mentioning it. “No, why?”
“I just need to talk to him.” She smiles reassuringly, an unconscious action she sometimes does to pretend everything is fine when it isn’t. “Have you had lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” I mutter, hearing her sigh behind me as I jog up the stairs. It’s the truth. There’s a lump in my throat because Jake is going to leave and there’s nothing I can do to stop it happening.
An hour later I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, trying to focus on a book, but I can’t. Instead, I feel Jake’s lips on mine. The warmth of them. The softness. The heat that licked fire through my insides. I set the paperback aside when a tap comes at my open door. My eyes lift. Jake stands there, his expression passive. That’s how I know and hurt rises swiftly in my chest.
“You’re leaving.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not,” I mutter like a sullen child.
Jake walks into my room. The bed dips when he sits down on the edge in front of me. “I don’t want to leave.”
“When are you going?”
“In the morning. They have a foster home for me in Melbourne.”
“Melbourne?”
I fight back the urge to cry. Melbourne isn’t exactly a quick walk to the park. The city is a nine-hour drive south of here, and right now it’s so far away it may as well be Narnia.
“Well, it’s probably for the best,” I tell him.
Jake pulls back a little in surprise. “It is?”
“It’ll give me the opportunity to find someone who kisses better than you.”
God, you are such a bitch, Mackenzie. First making him feel guilty for something he has no control over and now trying to make him jealous. What the hell is wrong with you?
I don’t know! I tell the voice in my head. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel like shit. And if I’m feeling like shit, I want to make sure he is too. I want to know I’m not alone in this.
“The hell you will,” Jake growls at me.
You like him, that’s what’s wrong with you.
NO! I don’t want to. Not if he’s leaving.
“The hell I won’t,” I growl back.
“You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because the thought makes me feel sick.”
I try picturing an image of Jake kissing another girl, but my mind pushes it away before it fully forms like some kind of self-protection mechanism.
“I think …”
“You think?” he prompts when I trail off.
“I think I might feel the same.” Goddammit. Because where does that leave us?
Jake exhales deeply as if my response gives him some kind of relief.
“But what does it even matter?” I ask. “You’re leaving.”
“We can keep in touch.”
He doesn’t mean it because the smile forming on his lips doesn’t reach his eyes. Jake is my partner in crime. He’s the boy that makes me feel like I can do anything, and I’m losing him.
“Sure we can,” I reply, but my voice is flat, and he knows I don’t mean it either.