Chapter 12

Racing into the police station, I hold the door open for Fallon as she ushers A.J. through ahead of her, and we all hurry inside.

They’re not hurt. If they were hurt, they’d be in the hospital, not the police station.

After we make it through the second set of doors—heavy wooden ones—I spot Jared at the counter with Tate, while their son, James, sits on a black cushioned chair, playing with one of his parents’ phones.

“What happened?” I burst out, hoping he just leads with “they’re okay.”

Jared turns around, speaking to me but glaring at the cops behind the counter. “They won’t tell us,” he growls and then speaks directly to a female cop who’s rounding her desk. “I want my kid!”

“Jared, calm down,” she scolds, sticking a file folder in a tray on a desk. “She’s perfectly fine. As soon as Madoc and Jax get here, we’ll bring them out.”

He shoves at a piece of paper sitting on the counter, sending it floating to the floor, and scowls at her before walking away.

“Don’t make me remind you what the inside of my cells look like, boy!” a burly cop with a double chin and white hair barks at Jared from behind the woman.

Jared’s eyebrows come together and he folds his arms across his chest, but he shuts up. If I weren’t so worried, I’d laugh. After reading and learning what I have tonight, I realize what I don’t know about my brothers could probably fill a stadium.

Just then, Madoc and Jax storm through the door, Juliet right behind them, and everyone goes straight for the counter.

“Barry!” Madoc calls to the old cop who scolded Jared.

The man finishes talking to another officer and makes his way over to us. A.J. and James sit on the chairs, playing on the phone. The rest of us are crowded into the counter.

“The kids are fine. No one’s hurt, and you can take them home tonight.”

“What happened?” Jax speaks up.

“Kade happened,” Barry the Cop answers, arching an eyebrow. “Did Dylan have a scuffle at her race tonight?”

Jax nodded. “Yeah, some kid ran her off the track. He won’t be racing there again.”

“No, I doubt he will,” the officer rushes to agree, sounding sarcastic. “Your kids—and I imagine they had more help—dug a wide but shallow grave on Weston’s football field. They stole the kid’s car, drove it into the hole, and buried it. They even made a nice little tombstone for it.”

Snorts go off around the group, and I stifle laughter as Tate covers her amusement with her hand. Jared, Madoc, and Jax struggle not to smile.

Of course they’re proud. Of course.

“This isn’t funny,” the officer bites out.

“It’s a little funny,” Madoc mumbles, avoiding the officer’s eyes like a naughty child.

“Well,” Barry goes on, giving Madoc a sinister smile, “let’s see how you take this news then. When the boy found out, he and his friends chased them into town, and your kids offered a rematch right here on our city streets. Kade, Hawke, and Dylan, at least,” he specifies.

I imagine Hunter was only along to make sure Kade didn’t do anything that would get Dylan hurt.

“Things escalated,” he continues, “three cars were sideswiped, and your old Boss”—he looks at Jared—“is presently sitting in Ducane’s Ice Cream Shop after your daughter crashed it right through the huge bay window. “

“Oh, my God!” Tate bursts out, looking scared.

But the cop holds up a hand. “She’s fine,” he assures. “Thankfully, the shop was empty at the time, too, so no one got hurt.” And then he fixes his eyes on Madoc. “But I’ve got lots of angry parents calling, Madoc. There were people on those streets tonight.”

Madoc drops his eyes, his amusement gone. He, Jared, and Jax all look a little repentant, because they know the cop has a point. It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

Someone’s life could’ve been forever changed tonight, because Kade—and I have absolutely no doubt this was all his idea—thinks he’s untouchable.

“Now the boy’s dad is Kurt Rhomberg,” Officer Barry goes on, speaking to Madoc, “so he’s not pressing charges out of respect for you, but he will expect that you take care of the damages to his son’s car. As well as the estimated forty grand in other damages your kids caused tonight.”

He says the last piece to all of the parents, and Madoc digs his thumb and middle finger into his eyes, rubbing them, while Jared combs his hand through his hair.

“Christ,” I hear someone growl under their breath.

Forty thousand dollars. Shit. Officer Barry just served a big, heaping dose of reality, and everyone is shutting up now.

“And out of respect for all of you,” he says, “I won’t take their licenses. But if there’s a next time, they’ll be riding the bus for the rest of their lives.”

Madoc nods, looking contrite, and asks, “Of course. Can we see them now?”

“We have them in a room. I’ll get them.”

“No,” Madoc shoots back. “Leave them there. We need to talk to them first.”

“Right now?” Fallon questions him.

But he just ignores her. All seven of us trail to the back of the station, A.J. and little James staying with a police officer, as we follow Barry. But when he stops and opens the door to one of the interview rooms, a flood of shouting and furniture scraping against the floor hits us, and all I can see is the cop and Madoc rushing into the room, pulling Hunter off Kade, who’s backed against the wall and bleeding from his mouth.

“Oh, my God,” Juliet breathes out.

She quickly pushes past me, into the room, and rushes for Hawke, who’s bending over with his hands on his knees and breathing hard like he was trying to break up the fight.

We all hurry in, and I close the door behind me as Tate and Jared rush for Dylan, who’s standing behind Hawke and looking like she’s about to cry while Jax picks up the chairs that have toppled over.

Hunter is panting and glaring at Kade as he tries to yank himself out of his father’s grasp. “She could’ve been killed! You’re a piece of shit!”

“Come on, you little bitch!” Kade holds out his arms, begging for more.

“Enough!” Madoc bellows, pulling tighter on Hunter. “What the hell is the matter with the both of you?”

Kade moves closer to his brother, threatening his space and unwilling to back down, but then Jared is there, staring down at Kade, walking into him and forcing him back again. Kade’s jaw flexes as he stares up at his uncle, but he finally drops his glare and stops.

Everyone is damn near hyperventilating, but slowly everything starts to calm down. Hunter stops fighting against his father’s hold, and Hawke is resting against the wall, looking exhausted.

When Madoc lets go of Hunter, he comes to stand between his sons and looks back and forth at both of them. “What the hell? You both realize that ‘mayor’ is an elected position, correct?”

The police officer chuckles, and I realize I haven’t even thought about that. Everything that happened tonight could hurt Madoc’s campaign—not that his career comes first, but it won’t look good when Madoc can’t even keep his children in line.

“I think we should just take them all home,” Tate says, Dylan’s face buried in her neck. “It’s late.”

“Yes, let’s sort through this tomorrow,” Fallon adds.

But Madoc just shakes his head. “No. Everyone over here.” He points in front of the table. “Now!”

I jump, noticing a vein on his temple and his face getting red. I’ve hardly ever heard Madoc get angry. I’ve seen him get frustrated in the garage or yell at Jared or Jax, but he rarely gets pissed like this.

Hawke, Kade, and Dylan round the table, standing in front of it, while Hunter lurks behind them, everyone silent.

Behind me, the police officer leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Madoc stares at the kids, shaking his head. “You know what? You’ve all had it made,” he tells them. “You’ve had the very best of what we could give you. Loving, supportive two-parent households, family vacations, phones, iPads, clothes, cars . . . You were spoiled!”

I glance at the others, my brothers and their wives, and see them all listening. No one has a problem that Madoc is yelling at their kids.

“And we knew,” Madoc went on. “We knew this would happen, but, for some reason, we couldn’t not give you those things. How were we supposed to withhold anything that made you happy? We just thought you’d learn some goddamn humility. We thought you’d learn how to be grateful for everything you have.”

Dylan and Hawke are avoiding his eyes, looking contrite, while Kade is still scowling, and Hunter’s fists are balled up, both of the twins looking angry.

But they’re quiet.

“And we were no better at your age,” Madoc continues. “But we did know that some things couldn’t be replaced. Not everything is disposable.” And then he looks over at Fallon, his voice growing quiet. “You only learn that lesson through loss, and that is something you kids have never known. Not one of you.”

He draws in a deep breath and crosses his arms over his chest. “I think it’s time you all start learning that lesson. You have two choices,” he bites out. “You’re too destructive together. Hawke graduates in a year, so let him and Dylan stay put, but my boys can switch schools—”

“What?!” Hawke bursts out.

“No—” Dylan follows, standing up straight and looking suddenly worried.

“That’s crazy!” I hear Tate say.

“Or . . . ,” Madoc interjects, because he’s not done. “You all can take your punishment and build some goddamn character if you want to stay together.”

“Yes,” Dylan answers quickly. “Don’t send them away.”

Madoc can’t tell Jared and Jax what to do with their own kids, but nonetheless, Dylan and Hawke aren’t toxic together anyway. They don’t need to be separated.

But I’m sure that, even though Hunter and Kade are destructive together, he doesn’t want them separated. They’re brothers, after all. And maybe, just maybe, he figures taking them out of Shelburne Falls and away from certain “distractions” will solve their problems.

Ideally, though, that’s a last resort. This is everyone’s home, and we all belong together.

“You all owe about forty grand in damages, so what are you going to do?” Madoc asks.

Dylan speaks up. “We’ll pay it.”

“Oh, you’ll pay it,” Jared repeats in a humorous tone. “Will that be Visa or MasterCard?”

“We’ll pay it out of our college funds and then we’ll work to put the money back,” she clarifies.

Madoc nods. “What else?”

“Curfew by ten?” Kade offers.

But Madoc just laughs, his chest shaking as he turns to Jared. “That’s cute,” he tells him. “They actually think they’re allowed outside of the house besides work and school.” And then he turns to face Kade. “Grounded. The entire summer.”

Kade’s chest visibly caves, but Hunter remains silent.

“What else?” Juliet joins in.

“Extra chores?” her son suggests.

“Keep going,” I hear Tate say, looking at Dylan.

“We’ll volunteer at the hospital a few hours a week,” her daughter adds.

“And?” Jax folds his arms over his chest.

“And we’ll work for free at the summer camp as soon as school lets out,” Kade grumbles as the consequences get heavier and heavier.

“And?” Madoc keeps going, looking at Hunter.

But it’s Dylan who speaks up. “We’ll write letters of apology to the people whose property we damaged and to the city.”

“And?” Tate says.

“And we will earn back your trust,” Dylan adds. “We’re so sorry.”

Madoc steps up to Kade, glowering down at his son who doesn’t look sorry at all. Just pissed that he got caught.

“Are you?” he questions in a hard voice. “Are you sorry? Because if it’s not fair, I can enroll you at Weston on Monday.”

Kade looks like he bit into a lemon, but he finally nods, mumbling, “It’s fair. We’ll do it.”

“Not me,” another voice speaks up, and Madoc raises his head to look at Hunter.

I pinch my eyebrows together in confusion and shock. What?

“I’ll pay for the damages and work to replace the money out of my college fund,” his son says, “but I’m taking option A.”

“What?” Fallon moves forward.

“Hunter, no,” I hear Dylan demand, her frightened eyes on him.

Madoc’s entire body tenses, and he doesn’t say anything as he stares at his son.

Hunter wants to leave. Switch schools. He actually wants to go?

“We’ll talk about this at home,” Madoc says, turning away.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Hunter insists. “You said it was an option.”

Kade, who’d been silent, finally turns his head to look at his brother, something I can’t place going on in his eyes. “You want to leave?”

For all the arguing and the fighting, Kade doesn’t sound happy.

Hunter locks eyes with his dad, his demeanor eerily calm. “I was thinking St. Matthew’s.”

“That’s our biggest rival,” Hawke blurts out. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Hey!” Jax barks at his son’s language.

Hawke looks back down, shutting up.

“I could stay with Grandpa Monday through Friday,” Hunter tells Madoc. “It’s only an hour away from here. I’ll be home on weekends.”

But Madoc shakes his head. “You are not living . . . with him.”

“So you were bluffing?” Hunter throws back.

Oh, boy.

Yeah, Hunter could enroll at Weston and still live at home, but if he wanted to go to St. Matt’s, he wouldn’t be able to make that commute every day. He’d have to live with Ciaran, Fallon’s father, in Chicago.

And despite the fact that Madoc and Ciaran get along semi-well, Madoc still doesn’t want his son living with an ex-gangster.

Hunter pushes off from the table and walks up to his father, dropping his voice. “I need to get out of here,” he tells him in a near whisper. “I need something of my own. Please.”

My heart goes out to him, because I know what he’s feeling. Kade rules the school. He’s always the one everyone notices and the life of the party. He feeds off being the center of attention, and Hunter doesn’t ever seem to be able to carve out his own niche. He feels out of place and invisible.

I can’t see Madoc’s face, but I can tell he’s staring at his son, not saying anything, probably because he doesn’t want him to go, but he also doesn’t know how to fix everything that’s making Hunter unhappy.

“Fine with me.” Kade finally breaks the silence, the hint of pain in his voice that I heard earlier now gone. “Maybe now he’ll stop touching my shit.”

I close my eyes for a split second. Jesus. He’s talking about Dylan. I know he is.

She’s the wedge between them.

Hunter’s eyes turn dark, and a loaded smirk I’ve never seen before curls his lips. He turns around, and I’m afraid he’s going to hit Kade again, but he simply walks up to his brother, calm and confident.

“I’ll see you on the field in the fall,” he says, tossing it out like a threat.

Kade straightens, both brothers the same five foot eleven as they glare at each other. “Damn right you will.”

Madoc and Fallon say nothing, but I can see their heavy breathing as if they’re struggling for air.

I know Fallon and how she thinks.

She’ll get the boys home. Talk to them. Everything will calm down and all of this will pass. Hunter will see reason.

Madoc, on the other hand, has a plan for every contingency, but if he’s silent, then this was a twist he didn’t plan for. He was bluffing about switching schools, and Hunter called him on it. He’s not sure what to do, or how to fix it. Not yet.

As we leave the police station, I finally understand how hard it is to be a parent. To watch your kids make mistakes.

They won’t learn until they learn, and I know Madoc is struggling. But maybe sometimes the hardest part isn’t what to say and when, but rather, when to say nothing at all.

And how to know when it’s that time.

I reach down and clutch the bottom of my bag, feeling the book and diary inside.

Talking isn’t always the answer.

There are many other ways to teach your kids their lessons, after all.

•   •   •

I’m making my way through house, toward the kitchen, when I hear the clock chime midnight, and my eyes burn with exhaustion. Today’s soccer game feels like so long ago.

Passing the photos in the hallway, I see the ones from my parents’ wedding—a charming, small, and candlelit ceremony in a rustic barn north of here—Jared and Tate’s wedding—which seems even more special to me now that I know more about their past—Fallon and Madoc—who have no photos from their wedding but instead a great shot of her on his shoulders at the top of Mount Fuji on their honeymoon, arms spread wide and smiles on their faces with the clouds below them . . .

And Jax and Juliet, who finally gave my mother the big family wedding she’d wanted for at least one of her kids.

I hear voices coming from the kitchen, and I head there, knowing I’ll find my mother.

“We spent how much in New York?” my father asks, sounding shocked. “Jesus, we didn’t go to Paris! What the hell?”

I snort, seeing him leaning over my mother as she sits in her little desk along the wall, both of them studying the screen of the laptop. She’s no doubt doing the family bookkeeping, and I hear my dad having the same meltdown every month.

“Don’t look at me,” my mom says. “I bought one pair of shoes. You spend more money on Fifth Avenue than I do, Pretty Boy.”

“Pretty Boy?” he blurts outs. And then he reaches for her, squeezing her cheeks as he leans in and kisses her.

She laughs, trying to twist away from him. “Stop it!”

I take a minute to lean my shoulder into the door frame, watching them.

And I see it. I see Jase and Kat, their playfulness and flirting, the ease and comfort they have in each other. My father and how much he loves her and my mother and how she resembles that girl in the garage, working on his car. The way they complement each other and know when to bend. All of these things I never noticed before.

My dad releases her and starts studying the spreadsheet again. “Well, can we deduct some of this? We talked about work while we were there, right? Just claim the trip as a business expense.”

“No!” she protests and swats his hand away from the mouse. “Go away. I don’t mess with your case files. Stay away from my numbers. They’re all organized.”

He smiles and stands up straight.

“Hey,” I say when his eyes fall on me. “How’s it going?”

He sighs. “Fine. Your mother’s a good woman,” he muses, heading to the refrigerator. “She keeps me out of jail by talking me out of tax fraud.”

“Damn right,” Mom adds. “You make enough. You can pay your taxes, cheapskate.”

I watch them, smiling, and wonder what would’ve happened if my mom had never gotten help. If my dad had never gotten a divorce from Madeline or Patricia. If they’d never stopped trying to hold each other up.

I realize that now.

No one else can make you happy, and putting that expectation on the other person will doom both of you. You don’t look at someone and say “you can make my life better.” You look at them and say “I can make your life better.” Be a blessing, not a burden.

I clear my throat. “May I talk to Mom for a few minutes?”

My dad pauses mid-sip, staring at me. “Um, sure.” He nods, his eyes shooting to my mom. “You’ll tell me everything she says later, right?”

“Ha-ha,” she mocks. “She keeps my secrets. I’ll keep hers.”

“That better not be true.” He gives her a scowl, but I can see his grin as he heads out of the room. “I’ll be in my office.”

Mom types quickly on the computer, pounding the final key with some extra punch, and then turns to me, waiting.

Inhaling a deep breath, I reach in my bag and pull out the book, setting it on her desk, right in front of her.

Her eyes fall on the cover and stay there, no surprise registering on her face at all.

“You had Pasha mail me the book?”

She hesitates, but finally gives a small nod. “I knew you’d figure it out.”

Pasha lives in Toronto, setting up Jared’s production line, and my mother didn’t want me to see the book postmarked from Shelburne Falls. I guess she wanted me to read it before I started hunting down who sent it?

Occam’s razor.

Reaching back into my bag, I pull out the diary from her closet and plop it down on top of the novel. “Well, whoever wrote it had to have access to this. You, right?”

I couldn’t believe she’d trust anyone else with all those intimate details.

“Yes,” my mom admits, turning her swivel chair to face me completely. “Juliet helped me. She didn’t want to lie to you, but I asked her to hold the truth, if you came to her, until you were finished with the book. I wanted you to read it first.”

The strange look from Juliet makes sense now. She didn’t technically write it, but she did know about it.

“You could’ve told me all of this,” I chided. “Did you think I’d hate you? Or Dad?”

“No,” she rushes out, leaning over to take my hand as I sit down in the chair at the table. “When I found out I was having a daughter, Quinn, I honestly wasn’t happy. I was worried. I was so afraid I’d have another version of me, making the same mistakes, crying over the same types of men, and making bad decision after bad decision to make someone else happy. Someone who doesn’t deserve her.”

I’m not sure if she’s talking about Jared’s dad or mine, but I keep quiet and listen, anyway.

“That’s the hardest thing about being a parent,” she explains. “Living through heartache, bearing your struggles, learning the hard lessons the hard way, and enduring years of climbing a wall only to fall back down and have to start all over again . . .” She holds my eyes, and her voice is weighted with sadness. “The tears, the waiting, the zero sense of who the hell you are, and then one day . . .” Her voice grows lighter and she looks happy. “You wake up, and finally you’re exactly the person you’ve always wanted to be. Strong, decisive, resolute, kind, brave . . . But then you also look in the mirror and you’re fifty-eight.”

An ache hits my chest, and I can imagine a fraction of what she’s talking about. All those years, all the wasted time . . . She finally grew but at a huge expense.

“And when you have a child,” she goes on, “it’s like watching yourself start all . . . over . . . again. You want them to make the most of every moment and be the type of person you’ve finally become, but that’s the cruel joke of youth.” She smiles sadly. “No matter what I tell you or share with you or try to teach you from everything I’ve learned, it won’t hit home for you until you’ve lived it. You won’t really know what I’m talking about until you’ve made those mistakes and learned from them on your own.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “And unfortunately, that could take years.”

I slide my bag off my shoulder, absently dropping it on the floor. My mom may have been happy with her life and proud of what she’d survived, but her regrets don’t end with her.

She worries for me, too.

“I wasn’t sure I would ever let you read it,” she tells me, looking embarrassed. “Obviously, some of the scenes I wrote would be uncomfortable for you to read.”

Uh, yeah. I’ll try not to think about the episode in my dad’s office the next time I swing by his work.

“But I wrote it when you were little, and I included your dad’s side in the story, using his thoughts from some of his old letters to me that I’ve kept over the years, because I felt his side was important, too. I’ve just been concerned about you for a long time. I finally decided that if I could show you some things in a way where you could feel them for yourself, then maybe you would learn something from him and me, and what we went through, after all. The book was a way for you to live vicariously—go through the experiences without the costs and consequences.”

“Why do you worry about me?”

She leans back in her chair, shaking her head. “Maybe your dad is right. Jared was so difficult, and it was my fault, of course, but raising you has been such an easier experience that maybe I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Her eyes flash with something, like she’s practically lost in thought, and I know she’s thinking about my brother.

“Jared was just such an open book,” she muses. “If he didn’t like something, you knew. If he wanted something, he’d take it. If he wasn’t happy, he didn’t act like he was.” And then her eyes narrow so she can study me. “What do you want, Quinn? What makes you happy?” She leans forward, taking my hand. “Whatever it is, don’t wait on anyone else to give it to you. Don’t wait for it to just happen. Go get it.”

I frown, and it’s like I’m standing on a cliff, looking down onto a waterfall and everyone else has jumped—laughing and calling to me to follow—but I’m afraid of the drop.

“It’s kind of scary,” I choke out. “What if I love you all too much, and I’m afraid of disappointing you?”

“I know you love us,” she assures. “We all know, and we love you, too. That will never change.” She leans in, trying to catch my eyes. “But does it make you feel good? Sacrificing your own happiness to please others? Honey, if our love is that brittle, then we don’t deserve you. A strong person realizes that the only love you truly need in this life is the love you have for yourself. If you have that, it’s like armor. No one can stop you. No one else matters.”

“So that’s why you decided to let me read it,” I ask, looking up.

She nods.

“But why did you write it in the first place?”

“To learn about myself. To try to make sense out of everything Jason and I went through. Everything we put Madoc and Jared through.” She pauses and then continues. “We could say we were young and stupid, but that excuse only lasts so long before you realize that you were selfish and just really big assholes.”

I laugh to myself, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest. “Did you learn anything else?”

A smirk crosses her face, and she reaches behind her to dig in the desk drawer.

Pulling out a small forest green booklet, she hands it to me, and I open it up.

I see several transactions printed, and I can tell it’s a bankbook. I widen my eyes, spotting the balance on the bookmarked page. “Oh, my God.”

“I learned that it’s okay to love and to feel vulnerable and to make mistakes,” she says, “but it’s not okay to live a trapped life. Never give up your control to someone else.”

“Where did this money come from?”

“After I finished the book, I realized a woman should always protect herself. So I gave Jax some of the money I had saved, and the smart investor he is, he multiplied it.” She laughs. “Many times.”

Oh, my God.

I shoot my eyes back up to her. “Was this your security? In case you and my dad broke up?”

“No,” she answers. “It’s yours. I didn’t really need the savings when I married your dad, so I let Jax create an account, and it’s been collecting interest ever since.”

“It’s mine?” I can’t take this. What if she needs it some day?

“As long as you remember, Quinn . . . when you fall in love, take care of him,” she explains, “but take care of yourself, too. Make yourself happy. Spend it. Save it. Give it away. Your choice. Your life.”