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.
CHAPTER 3
“Waverly, would you mind passing me some of those gender rolls, please?” There’s a smirk on my face as I reach across the table at dinner Monday night. I’ve just been given an all-access, VIP backstage pass to the greatest fucking circus on earth. All these wives and kids and systems and checklists, and nobody wears a goddamned smile or shows a hint of rebellion. They go about their daily routines like micromanaged employees.
Waverly places a white bowl of warm, buttered rolls into my hand and pinches her face. I take a one and bite into it, chewing slowly like a kid in a crescent roll commercial.
“Mm, mm. These gender rolls are delicious.”
She kicks me under the table, hard, but I don’t flinch. I’m not sure how I ended up sitting across from her at the table again, but here I am. Mark is at the head of the table yammering on about some boring pharmaceutical legislation. Waverly flashes me a look as if to warn me not to mock him, but I won’t be ordered around by some angel-faced goody-two-shoes who lives and breathes to make Daddy happy.