Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths #4)(41)
“It does seem like that sometimes, doesn’t it?” I’ve often asked myself that question. “I know I drive him nuts with the way I don’t hang my jacket up and how I leave coffee stains on the counter. I’m not sure if that’s just him being a neat freak or what.”
Ben chuckles. “Yeah, I love bugging the shit out of that guy. I go into his office and move all of his stuff around.”
“You’re the one doing that? He’s been blaming me for it for the last two weeks!” I reach out and smack the width of his bare stomach, just above his belt line. I swear, I’d believe he was waiting for it because the hand that was touching my back hooks around my side and pulls me back until I’m lying down, my head resting in the crook of his arm. He chuckles softly. “Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll tell my mama that you’re trying to sully me.”
“She won’t believe you,” I throw back, trying to squirm away. When I realize Ben’s not letting me go anywhere, I give in and nestle into the cushion of his chest. We lie in silence for a few long minutes as the sun beats down and the cicadas sing. I know a lot of people can’t stand those things, but I kind of like the melody they create.
“What about when you two were kids? Did you get along then?”
“Oh, he definitely hated me then,” I admit. “I remember the day we moved into Jack’s house. I had only met him a handful of times and he seemed really quiet. Stupid me—I thought things would be different. It was going to be cool to have a brother . . .” I smile at the memory of nine-year-old Mason, a scrawny kid with glasses and really messy black hair. Funny, all that’s changed is that he’s a man instead of a kid. “Jack said Mason was just mad at him for ‘replacing’ his mom—she died of a brain aneurysm a few years before that—and that’s why he was hiding in his room all the time.” I shrug, a strange sadness enveloping me as I recall the day I realized that Mason would never be like one of those older brothers you see on television, who gives bear hugs and chases all the mean kids away. “One morning when I was about eight, I decided to put all three of his Siamese fighting fish in one tank. I didn’t believe they’d actually kill each other. But when we came home from school and Mason went to his room, well . . . let’s just say he was down to one pet.”
“So you were one of those little kids.” I feel Ben’s head shake with disapproval but when I glance up, I see an amused smile.
Ducking back into his chest, I go on. “Mason was so mad at me that he went to school the next day and told Chase Butler, this loudmouth dickhead, that my daddy left me like a stray in a truck stop. Well, within ten seconds of walking into the cafeteria, Chase had the entire room chanting ‘Stray MacKay.’ I knew right away why. After that, I didn’t have much love for Mason either.” The nickname stuck all through middle school. Kids can be ass**les.
“Huh, so that’s what he was talking about . . .” Ben murmurs. “Is it true about your dad?”
I pause, picking my words carefully. This just isn’t something I talk to with anyone and if Ben were to start teasing me about it . . . “Yeah, I guess. I mean, my dad did leave me in a diner, but I don’t remember that day being scary or bad. I just remember taking a long ride in his truck, and chasing chickens and pigs around at some farm. And laughing a lot. The way Annabelle tells the story, though, it sounds like he was this awful man and I was in grave danger. Apparently they had a fight and he took off with me in his truck, saying he was leaving her and never bringing me back. So Annabelle called the police and reported me as kidnapped. My dad already had a record—some stupid bar fight that put a guy in the hospital—so adding a kidnapping charge was bad. I’ve always believed that’s why he left me there.” I add in a softer voice, more a confirmation to myself, “That’s the only thing that makes sense.” We fall into silence as I listen to Ben’s strong heartbeat next to my ear, letting the afternoon sun bathe my skin, hoping that it’ll scare away the gloom that always creeps in when I think about my father and how he just abandoned me, like I was a cat he didn’t want anymore.
“Well, I think you have a pretty good thing going with Jack right now,” Ben finally offers, his fingers trailing up and down my arm lightly.
I smile to myself. “Yeah, he’s great.” I always knew Jack was a good person, who without a doubt truly cared about me. I think that’s why it hurt so damn much when he turned his back on me all those years ago. It’s also how I knew that what Annabelle did must have hurt him terribly. It’s why my relationship with her went even farther downhill after their divorce.
“And Mason’s a good guy. I know he can come off as kind of weird, but he’s someone you can count on. Maybe now that he’s getting laid, he’ll relax a bit.”
I groan and then cringe. “I forgot about that until now. Thanks.” I roll into Ben’s chest, inhaling the scent of him—soap, laundry detergent, and a clean sweat from this heat—as I try to block the visual suddenly plaguing me. “Do you think he was a virgin before her?”
Ben chuckles. “No, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t pull up a chair and watch, but I think he got his dick wet at a party our first year.”
That earns a second cringe. “Jesus, Ben! Does Wilma know you talk to girls with that mouth?”