Just Her Luck (37 page)

"Ephraim!" I hissed, slapping at him from underneath the table when his folks remained otherwise occupied.

"What?" He was oblivious, his brown brows raised questioningly as he stopped chewing and glanced up at me.

"Shut up!" Thatcher and I both barked at him.

"Shut up about what?" Reeve asked gruffly, sitting down, plate loaded with his second helping.

Ephraim glanced at me and kissed me quickly, then shoved a mouthful of waffle down his yapper, giving Reeve a shrug as if to say 'Sorry, bro'.

Sawyer, who was still trying to digest what he'd just learned, turned all stony faced and gave Thatcher an appraising look.

"No wonder she slapped you in the balls, you moron! You deserved it!"

"Who slapped who in the balls?" Jep asked curiously, catching on to the whole drama unfolding before us.

Can't we just have one normal breakfast?

Just one?

I must have voiced that out loud, because a moment later Bowen chuckled from his seat.

"Sorry, girly, not us," he laughed.

"Oh, sweet pea, you'll find there's nothin' truly
normal
about
this
family," Barb tittered gaily, amused at the very idea.

"Oh, yeah?!" Thatcher finally recovered, pointing his forkful of waffle at Sawyer, "I didn't have to drag her into a pond to get a kiss, now did I?"

"Nope," Ephraim added helpfully, "she wouldn't even kiss you then."

Thatcher’s face reddened and his grip tightened on his fork, waffle splatting onto the table cloth, dribbling syrup everywhere.

Ephraim was grinning from ear to ear, loving Thatch's discomfort.

"I don't think this is..." I started to say, uncomfortable with the current conversation.

"So! Doesn't mean a thing! Just because you got lucky, doesn't mean you can keep her! She'll get sick of you soon enough. Then who are you gonna share strawberries with,
stuttering Stanley?
Hmmm?"

"Bull! I love her and she loves me. She aint said it yet, but I know it and she aint goin' nowhere, so you can just shut up! Besides, she's already promised to marry me if the baby's mine!"

I choked gasp squawked out of me and my eyes widened so big, I'm surprised they didn't fall right out of my head and plop onto my plate.

Everyone turned to stare at me then and I froze, completely put on the spot.

My fork clinked from my numb fingers and hit my plate.

"A baby!" Reeve shouted, nearly knocking over the table, "What baby?"

"No…" I stammered and tried to protest.

"You got her pregnant?" Thatcher glared at Ephraim accusingly, "Were you having sex with her when she was having fun with Reeve? How long has this been going on?"

"She isn't pregnant," Bowen cut in, voice carrying above the others.

I looked over at him gratefully and he winked.

"She isn't?" Thatcher asked hopefully, settling down a bit.

He looked to me for confirmation and I shook my head 'no'.

"Oh, good," his shoulders relaxed, relieved, "then there's still time."

"Time for what?!!" I shouted, alarmed, "I'm not a drive thru! What are you gonna do, cupcake? Wait to put in your order?!!"

Thatcher opened his mouth to respond, but my death glare shut him up.

His mouth closed with a sound clack.

"When
did
you and Genevieve start seeing each other?" Reeve snapped at Ephraim.

"That is none of your..." I growled.

"Ephraim scurried his ass out there when I told him I was seeing Genevieve," Bowen gestured to Thatcher and Sawyer, "I gave him a chance to woo her before one of you two assholes tried to cock block him."

"
Gave
me a chance?
Gave?
I don't need your help with..." Ephraim grumbled, voices all drowning out one another's as they fought for dominance.

So much for me being grateful to Bowen for being of sound mind in this madness…

I felt the blood rush to my ears, thundering in my head as my mouth dried right up.

They all need to hush right about now.

"This isn't making me feel any better about all this," I said loudly, "Can we just change the subject please?"

There was a desperation in my voice I wouldn’t normally let show, but the situation was getting the better of me, and could quite easily get out of hand.

"Cock block him? You mean show her what a real man is like," Thatcher snickered.

"Like hell, you..." Ephraim growled.

"I wouldn't cock block him," Sawyer interrupted defensively.

Bowen just raised a brow at him.

"I wouldn't have
on purpose
, anyways..."

"I'm sitting right here!" I growled louder, feeling very much like a side of beef.

"Hey! I got her fair and square!" Ephraim grumbled, "If you don't like it, tough shit!"

"Hello? Excuse me!" I called louder, flushing when I saw their parents all watching us, eyes bouncing around avidly, taking it all in.

Oh, god, this is getting bad quick.

Reeve's comments about me causing problems raced through my mind and a wash of guilt dropped down on me like a ton of bricks, bringing the true reality of this whole situation to light, smacking me square in the face.

He's right.

My stomach dropped.

I am
causing problems.

My eyes scanned the room helplessly and I felt the weight of it closing in on me, boxing me in.

Just look at this shit!

I'm pitting them against one another and I don't even have to try...

What the hell was I thinking? Thinking this could ever work!

If they’re all this bad now...

God!

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

What the fuck was I thinking?

This has to end
now.

Standing up, I picked up my plate and slammed it down to get their attention, accidentally cracking it in two.

"Excuse me!" I bellowed above the din, silencing them all.

My hands shook so I fisted them on the table, on either side of my mess.

The fact that Reeve was watching me now, knowing what he'd said about all this before and how right he'd possibly been, ate at me and stung all the more.

"I am not a piece of meat you all can fight over! I am a human being. I have feelings. I... I matter." My voice tapered off towards the end, breaking a little, and I cleared my throat a couple of times into the awkward silence that followed.

I picked up the two broken pieces of plate and stood up.

This is all your fault... your fault,
Reeve's voice taunted in my head.
You're like poison.

Good grief. If you switched out the masculine voice for my mother's the words were almost the same.

Well, the meaning was... definitely got the tone down pat too.

'You're worthless, Genevieve. You make me crazy, child! Go do something else and get outta my hair! I can't stand to look at you! You're just another expense on me! I swear! God damn worthless brat is sucking the life outta me!'
My mother's words played right along with his, echoing in my head.

'You make me crazy!
' he'd said.
'You're poison!'

"I won't be fought over." I glanced at Reeve, who was still staring at me, minus the glare on his usually surly face.

Oh, I can't do this!

I bit my lip and chewed it worriedly.

I won't be this to them
- the reason they all fight-
a wedge between them all.

I refuse.

What the hell do they want to fight over me for anyway?

I’m nothing special.

"I... uh...” I shook as I stared down at the fragmented pieces of my dinner plate, “I'm sorry. I can't do this." I shook my head and backed away from the table, not meeting any of their eyes. "I thought I could, but I can't. I won't be the reason any of you fight," I said vehemently, shaking my head vigorously "I won't."

Whirling around before anyone could respond or try to stop me, I fled the room.

Running into the kitchen, I ignored Bowen and Ephraim calling after me.

Hurriedly, I went to dispose of the plate and jerked, grabbing a hand towel when the broken ceramic dug into my left hand, slicing it wide open.

"Shit!" I hissed, face scrunching up at the pain.

"Genevieve?" I heard from the dining room.

I closed my eyes, tears pricking them at the hurt and confusion in that voice.

It hurt twice as much as the stupid cut on my hand, jabbing at my heart.

But I still couldn’t bring myself to change what I’d just done.

It’s better this way.

I just… can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

My jaw clenched as I kept silent, refusing to be the thing that ruins what they’ve all got going here-
ruins them.

I won’t.

Decision made, mind set, I walked to the back door and silently slipped out, hurrying towards the clothes line so no one would see me.

Hurt and a bit confused, with them and with myself, I kept going once I cleared the lines, buying myself some time until I had to head back to finish my chores and slap lunch together.

Maybe my stupid hand will stop bleeding by then
, I thought despondently, glaring at my throbbing palm.

****

I slipped back in through the back door a few hours later and came face to face with Reeve.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

I sighed and shoved past him, giving him my back.

"Not right now, Reeve."

"We've been lookin' all over for you. Where have you been?" he asked again, following me towards the fridge.

I didn’t answer.

"Ephraim called Barry and asked where you were," he continued, "Barry asked Ruthie and Ruthie didn't know. Bowen said you weren't answering your cell phone or your house phone."

He picked my cell phone up from where I usually keep it when I'm cooking, on the kitchen counter, and waved it at me.

"Would have known if you'd have brought
this
,” he waggled it at me, “You forgot it."

I started pulling things out one-handedly, trying not to draw attention to my hand.

Juggling a container leftovers in my arm, I set the chicken I'd made the other night onto the counter and took off the container lid, then pulled out the fixings for tacos.

"Is there a point to this conversation, Reeve?" I snapped, putting my hands on my hips.

I winced when my towel wrapped hand's fingers spread, quickly turning back to hide my expression.

Curling my digits around the cut and the cloth, I gave him an annoyed, exasperated look from over my shoulder.

"Bowen just got back. He drove all the way out to check your house, driving like a bat out of hell to get both there and back, and Ruthie's here."

I froze and turned slowly.

"She is?!" I blurted, "You guys got her all worked up?"

A knot twisted my gut and I felt sick.

They called her!

No!

He frowned down at me and gripped my wrist. "What happened to you?"

I jerked in his grasp, grunting as I tried to pull away.

"Hey, let go!"

I tried to twist my wrist out of his hold, but he held firm.

"What happened?" he asked again, trying to get a good look.

"It's fine!" I insisted, "Now, let go!"

He untied the knots I'd put in the material and carefully unraveled it, unconcerned with my wriggling.

"Hold still so I can...,” his eyes widened and he looked sharply at me before his head whipped back around to examine his handy work.

He set the soiled towel down on the counter beside us, shaking his head as he stared at it, “Jesus! This towel is covered in blood!"

"Its fine now,” I said stubbornly, “It stopped bleeding a while ago. Now get your paws off me! I have to see Ruthie. I don't want her all worried."

"She'll keep." He grunted and dragged me over to the sink, "And you're the one that got her all worried, not me, sweet tha..."

"Don't you dare finish that, pervert," I growled, "I will never be your or anybody else’s
sweet thang
, got it?"

I stomped on his foot and pulled my hand free as he grunted and yelped, distracted.

Sharp pain shot through my palm when I closed my hand over it reflexively.