The Complete Arrogant Series (2 page)

Her hand slides across the table,
covering mine. She’s not shaking anymore. I drag my eyes toward hers, and for
the first time in a long time, I don’t completely hate her.

“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.