ARROGANT PLAYBOY (24 page)

“Mind if I get to bed?”
Heart-to-hearts wear me the fuck out. I’m not cut out for those kinds of talks.

“Do you forgive me, Jensen?”
Her eyes are round, her brows raised. “I need to know. And if you can’t forgive
me, is there any hope you might someday?”

I might be an asshole most of
the time, and I’m definitely a Mackey, but I’m not heartless. Plus, she’s
taking me in, which beats the hell out of some random foster home or halfway
house. Mercy told me I was old enough to be a ward of the state, but I wanted
to finish my last few weeks high school without worrying about how I was going
to provide for myself or where I’d be staying until my apprenticeship. This,
believe it or not, was the lesser of all evils.

I take a deep breath, consider
it, and release. “Sure…
Mom
.”

She smiles when I call her
that, and maybe it’s sort of worth it. I don’t tend to make a ton of people
smile these days. It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling like I used to get when I’d
break into the communion wine cabinet.

“One more thing.” Her smile
fades fast. “You’re going to meet the rest of your family tomorrow. Be ready by
seven. We’ll head over to the main house together.”

I rise from my chair,
immediately plunking back down from the force of the bomb she’s just dropped.
That explains the twelve chairs at the table.

“Wait… what?” I scratch just
above my brow. I could’ve sworn Mercy said Kath was a single mom. No one
mentioned a husband.

“Your stepfather’s name is
Mark,” she says slowly, her chin dipped low. “I’m his third wife. I have two sister
wives, and you have five other brothers and sisters.”

I lean back in my seat. There
were some polygamous communities in Arizona, but they mostly lived on
self-governed compounds. We rarely noticed them. They didn’t live on a street
with white-picket fences and manicured lawns. They didn’t wear jeans or look
like Kath.

“Mark’s first wife is—”

“Does Dad know?”

Kath pauses before nodding. “He
found out a few years ago. I’m not sure how, but I’d sent you a card on your
thirteenth birthday, and he sent a letter back threatening to out us all if I
tried contacting you again.”

I lean forward. “So you’re,
what, FLDS now? How’d that happen? We’re not—Dad’s not—Mormon.”

“Technically we’re not FLDS.
We’re AUB. Apostolic United Brethren.” She offers a dreamy smile, as if she’s
recalling the best thing that’s ever happened to her. “It’s nothing I went
searching for. It found me. I don’t know, Jensen. It just sort of happened. I
met Mark, and we hit it off. When he explained his situation, his beliefs, it
all sounded… perfect.”

“So you have no problem sharing
your husband with other women?” It’s none of my business, but this is crazier
than the damn snake charmers Dad brought to the church one summer. Plus, it’s
getting late. My brain isn’t firing on all cylinders and my filter has washed
up and gone to bed for the night. “So you left Dad and found someone even more
dysfunctional. Good for you.”

Her lips form a straight line
and she squints. “There are things I don’t expect you to understand, Jensen.”
She says my name a lot. Makes me wonder if she’s missed saying it over the
years. “There are certain burdens that come with being a woman. Being a
sister-wife, you share those burdens. And the love we share—”

“Okay, cool.” I slap my hand on
the table. Not a single ounce of me wants to carry on this conversation with
her, because I’ve already got a general idea of where it’s heading. I stand up
and stretch. “I need to get to bed, so…”

“Right.” She rises, and her
stare is heavy like it doesn’t want to let me go quite yet. She doesn’t have a
choice. I’m exhausted. Plus, I don’t give a shit about the dirty details of her
weird-ass plural-marriage. “See you at seven. Everyone’s looking forward to
meeting you.”

I hear her faintly call
“goodnight” as I trudge up the stairs. Rounding the corner to my new dinosaur
room, the one I share with the half-brother I never knew existed, I tumble into
bed, not bothering to crawl under the covers. Too many nights I’ve woken up
tangled and constricted by fucking sheets and blankets. I’d rather be cold than
overpowered by anyone or anything ever again.

Gideon— I think that’s
his name—is talking in his sleep. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but
he’s clearly not having a nightmare. Must be nice.

I rest my hands behind my head
and stare up at the green, glowing stars on the ceiling with half-open eyes.

Tomorrow I meet the rest of the
freaks.

WAVERLY

“Kath said he was beat up pretty badly.” My
older sister, Bellamy, whisks scrambled eggs over the stove as I’m stirring two
pitchers of orange juice. “Don’t stare, or anything.”

“What happened?” I ask,
replacing the lid on the pitchers and carrying them to the table. Going to
school every morning smelling like a restaurant is one of the worst things
about my life right now, but I could have childcare duty. I’d much rather smell
like bacon and eggs than spend all morning wiping snotty noses and getting the
kids dressed.

“We don’t know, and it’s none
of our concern,” Mom interjects. Her voice is hushed, which is her way of
telling us to stop talking about it. Summer—my dad’s second
wife—and her three kids shuffle in from the family room and take their
places at the table. One more year and our half-sister, Justice, will be old
enough to help out with meal prep. For now she gets the easy chores like
emptying trash cans and dusting blinds.

Those
were the days.

“You’re going to burn those,” I
tell Bellamy. “You know how Dad gets about his eggs not being fluffy.”

Bellamy sighs and clicks off
the burner. Ever since she took a job working at some financial corporation in
Salt Lake City, she’s been zoned out on autopilot. If I had to guess, I’d say
she’s met someone, but she won’t tell anyone anything. She’s secretive like
that. She scrapes the eggs into a ceramic serving bowl. There must be a dozen
scrambled eggs in there, all mixed in with her secret spice, which we all know
is really just dill.

We set the table and bring the
food over. Dad sits at the head of the table, reading the paper and squinting
hard. Mom tries to tell him to get his eyes checked out, but he refuses.
Everything has to be his idea or it’s not worth entertaining.

Four empty chairs take up the
space across from Bellamy and me. We had to make room for the fourth one. It’s
a tight squeeze, but we made it work. It just means the twins will have to sit
closer together, which should be fine because they’re pretty much inseparable.

“Sorry we’re late.” We all
glance up to the doorway where Kath ushers in her kids like a mother goose and
her goslings, only one of the goslings is dark and huge and stands out like a
sore thumb against the bland Americana we have going on in the Miller
household. “Everyone, this is Jensen.”

Summer’s kids, Justice, Honor,
and True, stare at him with blank faces. Mark folds his paper, Summer offers a
distracted “good morning,” and Mom welcomes him into the main house.

He doesn’t say anything, only
nods. His eyes are mildly swollen with dark purple rings underneath them.
There’s a gash on his cheek that’s begun to scab over. Even with his face all
mangled, it’s plain to see he’s attractive. I forget to breathe for a second
and snap myself out of it with a giant gulp of orange juice.

He takes a seat across from me,
his eyes traveling across the table and rising until they lock with mine. My
heart beats so hard I can’t think straight for a second. I don’t understand
what just happened or why my palms are suddenly sweaty.

I rub them against my jeans and
reach for my orange juice cup a second time. It’s empty. I look like an idiot.

Jensen reaches for a pitcher of
juice and pours some into my cup without saying a word. His lips are full and
arched, the corners seemingly drawn into a permanent smirk.

“Thank you.” I brush the
sandy-blonde hair from my face and take a sip.

He says nothing, releasing me
from his gaze as Kath begins to go around the table and introduce everyone. I’m
dying to know what’s going through his head right now. This would be a lot for
anyone to take in, but I’m hopeful I’ll get a chance to explain to him that
we’re a family just like any other, only we have a few more layers. I’m sure,
as time goes on, he’ll fit right in.

Though judging by the way he
wears his ripped up jeans and those faded t-shirts that cling to his body, I
don’t think he’s someone who cares too much about fitting in. Everything about
him says he’s comfortable being in a league of his own.

“Jensen, good to have you with
us.” Dad lifts his juice glass as if he’s making a toast. “You’re a part of the
family now. I plan to sit down with you after dinner tonight so we can lay down
some of the house rules.”

I’m rolling my eyes on the
inside. Jensen’s going to hate Dad’s house rules. Eight o’clock curfews. No
loud music after dinner. Mandatory, bi-weekly family meetings and Family Home
Nights. He’s going to swear him to secrecy about our lifestyle, too. We’ve
managed to blend in in this little Utah town, but if we were ever publicly
outed, it would destroy my dad’s pharmacy business—our only means of
survival—in two seconds flat.

Jensen still hasn’t said a
single word.

“We won’t send you to school
until the bruising on your face goes away,” Dad says. “I know it’s hard enough
being the new kid.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t care.

“As soon as you’re ready,
Waverly here will take you under her wing.” Dad sips his juice and smiles at
me. I was the first baby of the family until he married Summer. I was six years
old. I hardly remember what life was like when it was just us four. “You two
are both seniors. How about that? Got any big plans for this fall? Got your
sights set on any particular colleges?”

I glance at Kath, who’s cutting
up pancakes for the twins. Something about her is a bit more radiant today. Her
shoulders are more relaxed. She’s less twitchy.

“Jensen, care to tell us a
little about yourself?” Dad stares down his nose at Jensen, saying his words in
a huff. I can tell he’s growing tired of Jensen’s quietude. It’s a sign of
disrespect, and my father does not tolerate that kind of behavior in his house.
My fingers cross under the table. I hope he’ll give Jensen a break, especially
since he’s been through a lot.

Jensen shrugs, pushing the food
around on his plate. “Not much to say.”

Kath flashes a look toward Dad,
as if to ask him to leave him alone this once.

Dad inhales his final bite of
breakfast and stands up, jingling his keys in his pocket like he always does to
signal his departure. He makes his way around the table, kissing the little
kids on the tops of their heads and kissing the cheeks of his three wives. When
he gets to Bellamy and me, he kisses our foreheads. He’s always had a way of
making each of us feel special, which means a lot when there are so many of us.

Bellamy eyes the clock. She has
to leave for work soon. I have to go to school. The good thing about weekday
breakfasts is we get out of cleaning up. Usually two wives will clean up while
the third runs the little kids to school after Bellamy and I leave.

I wonder what Jensen’s chores
will be. True was the first boy to come along and he’s only eight. The hardest
part of his day is remembering to put his dirty clothes in his hamper each
night.

“I’m leaving,” I announce.

“Enjoy your day, Waverly,” Mom
says. “We’ll see you tonight. Don’t forget, you’re giving Honor her piano
lesson before dinner.”

I’m shuffling about, grabbing
my car keys and backpack and making sure my homework is in there. I swear I
feel his eyes on me, though it could easily be my imagination. The room feels
weightier with him in it, or maybe there’s an electrical charge. Something’s
off today.

My stomach grumbles. In the
midst of everything, I’d hardly touched my breakfast. Anything I did eat, I
certainly didn’t taste.

I remind myself Jensen is my
stepbrother, and that any curious thoughts I might have are an inappropriate
waste of time and energy, and I sling my bag across my chest. My hair gets
caught beneath the strap and I yank it out. By the time I look up, Jensen has
risen from the table and is carrying his plate in my direction.

My heart jolts and my breath
quickens. He’s charging at me, the corners of his lips curled up and his golden
eyes holding mine. Jensen nods toward the sink behind me and lifts his plate.

“Oh,” I say, “you can just
leave that at the table. Whoever’s on clean up duty today will take care of
it.”

“I can’t take my dish to the
sink?” His dark brows arch. His shower-fresh scent invades the close space
between us. “My legs aren’t broken.”

“Yeah, but,” I start to say,
“in this house, the men don’t work in the kitchen.”

I realize how dated I sound to
someone from the outside, and maybe it seems ridiculous, but it’s always how
it’s been in our house. It just works. Besides, it’s very important that we all
walk a straight line here. Every day is a struggle to balance the equilibrium.

He ignores my warning and
reaches behind me, his arm grazing mine as he sets his plate in the sink.

Just like that he defies me,
our house, and our family rules. Like it’s nothing. Like he’s above us. All I
want is to leave for college in the fall, and that won’t happen if I step out
of line or upset the peace. Jensen’s going to make things difficult for me. I
can feel it already. I’ve known him thirty minutes and he’s already testing my
patience.

“Next time, please leave your
dish at the table. Someone will take care of it for you.” I lift my head high.
I’m not sure who he thinks he is. “We thank you for your cooperation.”

He snickers. “What is this,
some kind of restaurant? Do you even hear yourself?”

“Rules are rules.” It’s the
best comeback I can muster given the fact that the way he looks at me turns my
brains into mush. “We have a system. It works.”

“Are we really making this a
thing right now?”

“It’s only a thing because
you’re making it a thing.”

Jensen reaches around me again,
taking his plate and walking it over to the table, returning it to his place
setting. When he returns, he bows down, rolling his wrist as if I’m royalty.

“That was rude,” I mutter under
my breath, my eyes darting into the dining room to make sure my father didn’t
hear me. I’m supposed to be sweet and kind, void of opinions and allergic to
conflict. I’m not that way, so I have to pretend.

He leans forward, bringing his
lips to my ear. “I can already tell I’m going to have a
lot
of fun with you.”

I release the breath I didn’t
know I was holding. My cheeks burn red, caused a confusing blend of unfamiliar
sensations. I push past him, my hands tightening around the straps of my bag,
and rush out the door.

I have no idea what just
happened in there. All I know is I met Jensen Mackey today, and my world tilted
on its axis.