Taking Charge (Meet the McIntyres Book 1) Page 5

  I wanted to argue. At least a part of me did. The part that wasn’t yawning. But I was the oldest. Dealing with Dad’s bullshit should be my responsibility, not Connor’s. I should be the one sorting this mess out. After all, that’s why I came home.

  Unbuckling my seat belt, Connor grabbed my hand before I could kill the engine. “No. Not tonight. Let me deal with him.”

  “But…” I started to object. Half-heartedly. Connor must have sensed my lack of conviction, but he didn’t call me on it. Thankfully.

  “I’ll catch you up in the morning. Right now it’s late. I stink and I’m tired. Let me get him back in bed and I’ll crash in the house. Take my bed. Tomorrow we’ll figure it out.”

  I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. I don’t know what grated on me more. The fact that things had gotten this bad, or that Connor was right. Now was not the time to hash out the family sob story. There’d be plenty of time for that. It wouldn’t do any of us any good to try and deal with it right now. We were too tired to deal with emotional bullshit, especially the heavy stuff. By the looks of it, this was as heavy as it could get.

  Reluctantly, I nodded. I wasn’t happy about it and I wasn’t about to pretend to be, but for now, I’d bite my tongue. Without a sound, Connor slipped from the ute and strode across the dead lawn. I didn’t move. Not an inch. I don’t remember blinking, and I couldn’t be sure I took a breath. It took what felt like a lifetime as I watched on like a creeper in the dark as Connor crouched down beside the shell of the man I once knew and shook him awake.

  A second later, Dad was on his feet, his arm swinging in a wide arc. It scared the shit out of me, to be honest. He was shaky but standing, screaming obscenities at Connor in the same motion as he threw wild punches in his direction. That wasn’t even the worst part. What destroyed me, what made me almost choke on the guilt, was Connor’s reaction. There was none. He barely batted an eyelid. Instead he shuffled back half a step and froze. He didn’t speak, well, not that I could hear, and he definitely didn’t retaliate. He just stood there and took the abuse. I wished the window was up. I wish I didn’t hear the things I did. I wish I could unhear them. I knew I couldn’t, yet I’ve never wanted anything more. Although his words slurred, his meaning was crystal clear.

  Just as I was about to jump out and go and back Connor up, all the fight left the old man. It was like watching a balloon deflate. One minute he was full of hot air and ranting, the next he was hunched forward, bathing the flower beds with the contents of his stomach. A moment later, Connor helped him straighten up and stumble inside. As they passed through the screen door, both Dad and Connor looked over at me where I sat, stunned.

  When my eyes locked with Dad’s, something went through my body. Something I didn’t understand. It felt like my worst nightmare. Then he turned away and spat. The asshole spat in my direction. What sort of prick did that to his own son? Oh that’s right. My father. God, I was a lucky bastard sometimes.

  Connor ushered him inside before throwing me a half-hearted wave. I knew he felt sorry for me, I’d seen that look too many times to mistake it. I waited until they vanished from sight before easing off the brake and heading towards the pillow calling my name. I needed sleep and I needed it now.

  Ten minutes later, with my smoke-scented clothes kicked out the door, I collapsed into Connor’s bed and willed sleep to come. Morning would be here soon enough and tomorrow was already shaping up to be a tsunami coming straight at me. This shit would end and end now. If nothing else, there was one thing I was going to make happen tomorrow, Dad was apologising to Connor. No son ever deserved to be wished away as a stain on the sheets.

  The sun was barely up, but I’d been awake for hours. Actually, I don’t think I’d slept a wink after all the drama. I might be awake, but that didn’t mean I was ready to deal with the day. I had no idea what happened next. Truthfully, I wasn’t ready to consider it. So instead I did what I did best when stress was involved, I baked.

  I was in the middle of Mia and Derek’s kitchen wearing a pair of Derek’s worn grey tracksuit pants and an old football jersey he’d lent me. I couldn’t thank Mia enough for everything she’d done in the last couple of hours. When the shit hit the fan, or in my case, when the smoke filled my apartment, Mia had taken control. While I stood there with my hands in my hair wondering how the hell I was supposed to survive this, she’d taken life by the proverbial balls. I’d sunk everything I had into the bakery. Financially. Emotionally. Physically. It was my blood, sweat, and tears which revamped it and got it going again. It was all I had. It was my life. Now, it was off limits.

  Although we didn’t have details, which Derek promised would come this morning, it didn’t take a genius to know I couldn’t go back yet. At least a couple of days, they told me. Every time I thought about my dream coming crashing down on my head, my chest tightened and breathing became a struggle. They’d tried to bundle me up and whisk me away to get checked out at the hospital, but I was fine. Shaken, but fine. Freaking the fuck out, but fine. I’d survived everything else, what was one more disaster? After all, when you lead a clusterfuck life like mine, I should be used to it. I wasn’t, but I should be.

  Sliding the tray into the oven, I set the timer and flicked on the kettle. When the shops opened, I needed to replace everything I’d used. Derek and Mia had vanished into their room not long after we’d gotten in and I hadn’t heard a peep yet. While they slept, I baked. The whole kitchen was covered in muffins, pastries, and even some savoury concoctions I’d conjured up while I stood in front of their extremely well-appointed pantry.

  The worst part about my baking binge was the eating. The constant, piggish way I was stuffing my face. I’d pull a tray out of the oven, and before it even had a chance to cool, I’d swallowed a cookie. I knew I was doing it, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted to, I really did. I just…I couldn’t.

  The timer pinged, and as quickly as I could, I darted towards the oven to silence it. The last thing I wanted to do was wake everyone. They’d done enough for me. Stopping the timer, I grabbed the tea towel from the bench and pulled open the door. I have many, many flaws, I was well aware, but one thing I did better than anybody else I knew was bake my favourite cinnamon scrolls. They were my absolute favourite, and because of that fact alone, it was what came out of the oven perfect every single time. No recipe needed.

  “Smells great in here.”

  The deep, raspy voice broke the silence and scared the shit out of me. Stepping back quickly, too quickly, my foot caught on the too long track pants and I slipped on my ass. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, on my less than graceful way to the ground, I bashed my knee on the oven door, causing a wave of expletives to burst from my lips.

  “Shit, Payton! Are you okay?”

  My ass hurt. My knee throbbed. And my shame was total. But I was alive. For now at least. Thank god humiliation wasn’t deadly. My clumsiness may be, but mortification? Nah, it made sure you lived through that shit.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  Scrambling to my feet, I brushed off my hands and set the tray of scrolls on the counter. I’m not exactly sure how they survived my trip, but they hadn’t even been knocked around. At least one thing was going my way.

  “So, what have we here?” Derek asked as he dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen counter and snagged a hot scroll before breaking off a piece and popping it in his mouth.

  I don’t know why I found it so fascinating to watch him eat my food, I just couldn’t help myself. His eyes closed and a low moan escaped his lips. It was completely weird and hypnotic at the same time. Forcing myself to do something other than stare at him, I grabbed mugs from the sink.

  “Coffee?”

  “Mmmm,” he mumbled through a mouthful.

  I loved watching people enjoying food. And it was even better when it was my food. Giving someone pleasure like that, seeing their faces as they appreciated something I’d made just made me feel good about myself. Something I wouldn’t giv
e up for anyone.

  “Something smells yummy,” Mia added as she floated into the room.

  Envy coursed through my veins as she slipped onto the stool beside Derek before snagging the corner from his scroll. It was still early, way too early to be looking like she did. Even though I knew it wasn’t true, Mia looked like she’d just stepped off a photoshoot. Her short hair had the sexy crumpled look happening and her eyes were so alert they were distracting. If that wasn’t enough, the tiny boy shorts and tight pink camisole top she wore would have been enough to turn me, if I was that way inclined.

  Feeling frumpy and embarrassed, I tugged the hem of Derek’s shirt down. He was much bigger than I was, taller, broader across the shoulders, but his clothes just didn’t fit me the way I wished they did. I was a sucker. A sap. A hopeless romantic. One of those pathetic women who could be brought to tears by a cute puppy playing with toilet paper on an ad, or even a well-written line in a book. Even a few simple song lyrics could reduce me to a puddle. So when I’d pulled on a guy’s clothes, I wanted to look like everyone else. I wanted the shirt to hang to mid-thigh and only be tight around my boobs. At least that was the dream. The damn image in my head I couldn’t let go of, no matter how much I wished I could. Instead, there I stood in Derek’s kitchen wearing his clothes which were too long, too tight around my huge boobs, and more than a little snug around my pudgy waist, while his fiancée was perched beside him eating a hot cinnamon scroll looking like a freaking yoga instructor.

  “Payton?”

  “Huh?”

  I’d been lost in my own head. Again. I did that way too often to be normal. It was a bad habit I’d been called out on a million times before, but one I couldn’t shake.

  “I asked how you were feeling?”

  How was I feeling? How the hell was I supposed to know? I’d been doing everything I could to not feel anything. “I’m okay.”

  Mia quirked her eyebrow at me. I could read the disbelief all over her perky little face. The urge to punch her was overwhelming.

  “Will you be staying here today?”

  Derek asked. That’s all he did. He asked a straightforward, honest, innocent question and it broke me. Shattered me into a million pieces. I watched as my pain was reflected in his eyes. We both knew it a second before it happened, but we were powerless to stop it.

  “I…I…” the sobbing swallowed me.

  Up until that moment I hadn’t cried. I hadn’t freaked out. I hadn’t worried about what the future would hold. What would happen to me now. At least, not really. I’d been able to push all thoughts aside and focus on the bowl in front of me. All it took was one measly little question to crumble my already unstable resolve.

  “Derek!” I heard Mia scold him a second before her arm wrapped around my shoulders as she led me out of the kitchen and deposited me on the sofa. After covering me in a blanket, Mia perched herself at the opposite end and held my hand in hers.

  Although it felt strange and I felt like an imposter in their house, I was grateful for the human contact. Right now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive without it.

  “You’re fine, Payton. Let it out. You need to let it all out.”

  Mia’s words opened the flood gates.

  I cried like a baby. I didn’t mean to, and it surprised the hell out of me how hard and how fast the tears came. It felt like it took forever for them to dry on my cheeks and to get my pathetic sobbing under control. Even when I did, it then took another couple of minutes before Derek grew brave enough to show his face. Typical. Guys and tears were not a great combination.

  After handing me a steaming mug of coffee, Derek sank into the recliner opposite. “Right, now we survived that, here’s what’s going to happen.” This was a side of Derek I’d never seen before. It was strong, dominating, and full of authority. And it was sexy as fuck. Mia was one lucky woman. “Before you go all hysterical on me, crazy woman, hear me out. You’re staying here until this is sorted. I’m going back over there this morning to check out what’s going on and see if we can figure out what happened. I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything out. Depending on how things are will determine whether or not you can go home and get some stuff.”

  “Is there anything you need?” Mia interrupted, clearly not miffed with Derek’s take charge persona.

  “Umm.”

  “Spit it out.”

  I felt bad. I didn’t have my wallet. I had no clean clothes, let alone clean underwear, but the one thing I wanted more than anything else was a toothbrush. Everything else I could deal with. The disgusting, furry feeling coating my teeth, on the other hand, was gross.

  Feeling sheepish, I admitted it. “A toothbrush. I’d love a toothbrush.” Mia and Derek exchanged what I could only guess to be amused glances before they both cracked up.

  “Under the sink you’ll find a toothbrush, Payton,” Mia explained.

  “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

  Although I didn’t see anything funny about it, something was obviously comical about my situation. Maybe once I got some sleep and cleaned my fuzzy teeth, I’d be able to see it. But right now, right now I couldn’t see anything to laugh about.

  “All right then. I’m going to go shower and head out. Payton, get some rest. You look like you could use it. And Mia, stay out of trouble. And the kitchen. You’ll burn the bloody place to the ground if you try and bake.” Derek bent down and placed a soft kiss on Mia’s cheek, winked at me, and headed out of the room. He’d almost made it too. Mia though, she wasn’t about to let him get away with that comment, not that I expected her to. Before I knew what was going on, Mia grabbed a magazine from the pile on the table in front of her and tossed it at Derek’s retreating ass. Hitting him square in the centre of his lower back, Mia dissolved in a fit of giggles while I covered my mouth, trying to hold back my own.

  This was what I wanted. From the outside it looked dysfunctional and chaotic, inside however was another story altogether. It was something that if you didn’t know what to look for, you’d miss every time. It was the way the insults were tossed back and forth, always tongue in cheek. It was the way that an argument was always said with eyes filled with love and admiration. It was the soft, innocent kisses or the disgustingly adorable touches they shared. Tiny things that weren’t done for show, but done to show how much they loved one another.

  I’d had that.

  Once.

  Another lifetime ago now.

  I’d fucked it up.

  I don’t know how. Even to this day, I was clueless.

  All I knew was, I’d lost it.

  It was my fault.

  It was over.

  He’d walked away.

  He was gone.

  I was alone.

  Again.

  I’d had my happily ever after in the palm of my hand and I’d lost it. My chance was done. Now, now I had to move on and build a life on my own. One that didn’t rely on anyone else. It sucked. Unfortunately though, for me, this was the shitty hand I’d been dealt. All I could do was make the best of it. Something that started right now. With a tube of minty toothpaste. A fresh start.

  Summoning all my tenacity, I bounded to my feet and headed back to the kitchen. Turning on the taps, I filled the sink quickly with bubbles and started the process of cleaning up my mess. There was a tiny piece of charred food stuck to the pan that stubbornly refused to come off. Swearing at the offending item, I barely noticed when Mia slipped up beside me, tea towel in hand, and started drying. It caught me off guard. I wasn’t used to it.

  “You don’t have to do that. I made the mess…”

  “And I intend to help you get rid of it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Gee, Payton, you’re a bit slow on the uptake this morning. Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet?” Mia teased, dropping a baking tray to the ground, sending the bubbles floating into the air.

  “Guess not,” I sighed as I bent down and picked up the tray before rewashing it.

  “Don’t swea
t it. Finish up here and go back to bed for a couple of hours. You look like you could probably use the sleep.”

  “Do I really look that bad?” Forgetting what I was doing, I swiped my hand across my forehead, pushing back my crazy ass hair. It was wild at the best of times, and right now, I was just thankful I couldn’t see it.

  “I’ll be honest. It’s not good.”

  “Ugh!”

  Speeding up, I scrubbed harder and splashed more dirty water on me than remained in the sink. With each and every spoon, my eyelids drooped a little more. When the tumbler I was holding slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor, just inches from my bare toes, I almost lost it. Almost. The moment I bent down to scoop up my mess however, Mia’s tiny grip wrapped around my slippery hand.

  “Stop. Put down the cloth.” I did as she asked without argument, which judging by the look on her face, surprised her as much as it did me. Taking my hands in hers, Mia reached over and wiped my hands dry with the red and white checked tea towel. “Right. Carefully, get out of my kitchen and get your tired, cranky ass back into bed. I will see you in a couple of hours.” Mia pointed towards the door.

  I felt like shit. Sure I was tired and grouchy, but I’d just broken her glass and then was about to walk away and leave her to clean up my mess. And the kitchen, shit! It was still covered in canisters I’d hadn’t yet put away; dirty cake pans; measuring cups, and even the odd hunk of egg shell. “Let me just…”

  “Nope. Bed, missy. Now!”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”

  “I tell her all the time. She never listens though.” Derek chuckled from somewhere behind me, causing me to squeak like a mouse and jump a little.

  This was too much. Too many things going wrong at once. Feeling like I was about to crack into a million pieces, I gave up. Maybe Mia was right. Maybe I did just need some sleep, then everything wouldn’t seem as daunting. As hopeless. Nodding my agreement, I turned and stumbled from the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. “Thanks, guys. You know, for, I guess for everything.”