Mercedes
TWO WEEKS INTO my new job at Madame Jory’s and I was grinning all the way to the bank – well, to the spot under my mattress.
I’d made almost ninety dollars in tips during Thursday and Friday’s shifts alone and another fifty bucks earlier in the week.
Feeling like a splurge, I stopped off at the convenience store on the way home from work and bought my weight in candy bars.
Was it bad for me?
Without a doubt.
Was it worth it?
Every damn piece.
When Amelia walked into the living room late Saturday night and found me sprawled out on the huge sectional couch, I was one candy bar away from a sugar coma.
“Hey, Mercy,” she said sweetly. “Mind if I join you?”
“Oh hey, Amelia. Sure.” I waved her over, though she’d have to sit on the other couch. There was no way I could move. Goddamn, why had I done this to myself? “Want one?” I offered, holding up my paper bag towards her.
There wasn’t much of a selection left to choose from, but still, it would have been rude not to offer. She shook her head, politely declining, before curling up on the couch opposite me. “So, how’s the job going?”
“Good, though I’ve just eaten my entire salary.”
Amelia giggled. “I like having you here.”
She did? I cocked a brow. “Why?”
Sitting cross-legged, she rested her elbows on her legs and smiled. “You’re so…different to who we were expecting.”
Oh? “And who were you expecting?” And who’s we?
“Well...” Nervously, she tugged on one of her long golden curls. “You’re funny, for one. And you don’t take Rourke’s crap. That’s surprising. The others, they… I don’t know, they didn’t take him on like you do. It’s weirdly refreshing. You know, you’re the sixth step sibling we’ve had?”
“Yeah.” I scrunched my nose up. “Rourke filled me in on that little giblet of information.” Grabbing another candy bar, I ripped off the wrapper and took a bite. I was so full. “He christened me Six, remember?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, red-faced. “It’s nothing personal. Truly.” She re-tucked the hair she had just tucked behind her ears again – an obvious nervous trait. “He does that to all of them.”
I cocked a brow. “All of them?”
“All of our father’s wives’ children.” She blushed bright red again. “There’s been a Five, a Four, and a Three before you. The two previous to that were twins belonging to wife number two; Ellery and Edward.” Amelia sighed heavily. “Rourke just referred to them as Thing one and Thing two.”
“Aw,” I muttered sarcastically. “And here I was thinking I was all special.”
The door of the living room flew open then and I heard Rourke call out, “Hey, Mills, you hungry?” in a weirdly soft voice. “I’ve made your favorite. Mac and Cheese.”
The moment Rourke’s eyes landed on my face, the shutters closed down and that tiny fleck of gentleness he’d revealed while speaking to his sister was gone.
“Yeah, I’m starving,” Amelia chirped as she looked at me and smiled, “You hungry, Mercy?”
I opened my mouth to tell her no, I had almost killed myself with candy bars, but Rourke got there first. “There’s only enough for two.”
“Rourke,” Amelia scolded, red-faced. “Be nice.”
“It’s fine,” I replied, flipping him the bird. “I’m sure your Mac and Cheese sucks ass anyway.”
“I’ll plate up,” Rourke bit out before leaving the room.
Amelia waited until Rourke had closed the door behind him before saying, “I know my brother hasn’t exactly been welcoming to you, but I promise it’s nothing personal.”
Nothing personal? I scoffed. “It sure feels personal, Amelia.”
“He hates what you represent,” she whispered, tone low and hushed. “Not who you are as a person.”
“Why?” Pulling myself into a sitting position, I leveled her with an even stare. “What’s his problem?” I didn’t want to be here either. I wasn’t happy about our parents shacking up. But I wasn’t going around threatening to make his life a living hell.
Amelia exhaled a heavy sigh. “It’s complicated.”
I cocked a brow. “Complicated?” Pathetic.
“In Rourke’s eyes, you’re a threat to our lives,” she whispered again. “A problem. He needs control, it’s how he copes with the screwed-up way Dad has raised us.” She looked at me with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. “You and your mom arriving was out of the blue. Your mom getting pregnant was unexpected. Rourke hates this. He feels like his world is being intruded on so he reacts in the only way he knows how.” She shrugged helplessly. “He attacks.”
“But I’m not the enemy here!” I threw my hands up in frustration, forcing myself to lower my tone when I noticed her grimace. “And my mom’s not either. Yeah, she’s a flake and likes shiny things, but she’s harmless.”
“I know that,” Amelia replied softly. “But Rourke?” She shook her head. “Not so much. He’s on a permanent witch hunt. He has some really bad trust issues and sees everyone new as a threat to his family.”
“Why?”
“He has his reasons,” was all she replied. “And… issues. Many of which stem from losing his mother so young.”
“What happened to his mom?” I asked then. “I know your mother lives in the south of France.” Gabe had mentioned how Amelia visited her mother during the holidays every year, but he never mentioned Rourke’s mother.
“Camille?”
“Yeah.” I nodded in affirmation. “Is she –”
“Dead?” Amelia offered before nodding. “She passed when Rourke was a little under three.”
“God,” I whispered.
“He’s never been the same since,” Amelia added. “At least that’s what our father says. Of course, I’ve never known him to be any other way than he is now, but I guess that sort of trauma affects a child.”
“I bet.”
“Rourke blames himself for so many things; especially his mom’s passing.”
“Why?”
“Shortly after Camille got pregnant with Rourke, she was diagnosed with an extremely aggressive form of cervical cancer,” Amelia explained. “The doctors treating her were confident if she started treatment right away they could save her. But starting treatment meant…”
“Getting rid of the baby,” I whispered.
Amelia nodded. “She continued with her pregnancy, choosing to keep her baby. By the time Rourke was born, the only thing the doctors could do was give Camille time and keep her comfortable.”
“That’s horrendous.” Pain speared through me. “Surely he has to know that he’s not to blame for any of that?”
“I was born three weeks before Camille passed,” Amelia added with a grimace. “A product of an affair our father had while struggling to cope with the impending death of the love of his life.” Shrugging, she smiled. “At least that’s what my mother told me.”
“So, your mom and Gabe weren’t–”
“Married?” Amelia shook her head. “God no. Mom was just a shoulder for Dad to cry on.” She scrunched her nose up at the thought. “My mother is a retired dancer. Back then, she was doing a tour of the East coast with the dance company she worked for and met Dad. It was a fling that had been fueled by alcohol and grief, lasted some three weeks, and resulted in her getting pregnant.”
“Damn,” I muttered, unsure of what else to say.
Amelia nodded. “When I was born, Mom came back here, to Ocean Bay, and looked my father up. By then, Camille’s fight was coming to an end. She’d fought the cancer as best as she could but she was weak and hooked up on a morphine pump right here in this house.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “My mother wasn’t in the position to care for me, the life of a dancer no place for a baby, so she gave me to my father.”
WTF? “She just handed you off to him?”
“Uh-huh.” Amelia half sniffled, half laughed. “At first, Rourke hated me. He struggled a lot after his mom passed and took it out on me. He even tried to blind me with a flashlight once, and another day he took me out of my basinet and put me on the neighbor’s doorstep.” She grinned. “Of course, they brought me home – much to his dismay.”
“What changed?” I whispered. Something had to. They were close now. Rourke loved his sister. He adored her. It was as obvious as the nose on his face.
“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.