Page 6 of Pretty Threats

Yeah, fourteen with a couple months till she turns fifteen. A year and some change younger than me. Which means we’re in the same grade.

Even though the schools figured out later I have a genius IQ, at first they didn’t know what was up with me. When I moved in with my dad and Marianne, my mom hadn’t been sending me to school, so I was behind.

Yeah, Mom was a human car crash, all screeching tires and mangled bodies. She was so messed up at the end, I had to fend for myself most of the time, scrounging whatever food I could find in the back of the cupboards. I ate powdered cheese right out of the envelopes in the navy blue Mac and Cheese boxes.

My first week in the Callahan house, I tore through packages in the pantry like a hungry raccoon. I remember my dad yelling at me about the mess and complaining to Marianne. “What the fuck? The kid’s practically feral.” I didn’t know what feral meant, but I could tell it wasn’t good. My dad’s disgusted reaction to me is a vivid memory from that time. One of the few.

Our relationship didn’t improve much over the few years we lived in the same house. When the old man dropped dead of a heart attack when I was eleven, I couldn’t have cared less.

I did worry I might get shoved into foster care. After all, I wasn’t Marianne’s blood. She didn’t put me out, though. I guess she never thought of it. The only thing that changed as I got older was that, when I got in trouble, my half brother Liam would come talk to me and say I needed to watch my step. Or what? I always wondered.

We’re from a neighborhood where beat downs were a regular thing, and my older half brothers were all tough guys who got in plenty of fights while I was still the scrawny embodiment of their father’s cheating. Yet no matter how many times Liam had to come by and talk to me over the years, he never hit me.

Marianne and the girl backtrack up the stairs.

I lean my head against the couch cushion and stare at the ceiling. I’m not going up there. I don’t care about cake or making small talk with Peter the geek.

More importantly, if I wait, Raine may come back down alone.

4

5 Years Ago

RAINE

Catholic churches smell like smoky incense, which I’m getting used to from all the visits we’ve made to this one while preparing for the wedding. Light diffuses through the stained-glass windows but isn’t strong enough to bring the bright sunshine indoors. Instead, I’m sitting in the cool shadows on a smooth wood bench in the front row near the altar.

Across the aisle, Marianne’s sons are so huge they look like pro football players. They’re lined up in the adjacent front pew.

Sitting alone on our side—the groom’s side—I feel super small. At least my rented Selene floral dress slays. It’s cool that couture dresses can be rented online now.

Liam Callahan, who looks like Thor, stands and leans over to say something to his brothers. Killian, who’s sitting on the opposite end of the row in a black suit, stands. He’s a lot younger than his brothers but he’s just as tall.

Killian exits the row and strides around front of the bride’s section. As Liam and Killian walk toward my dad’s side of the church, Liam pauses in front of the altar. He turns his shoulders to face forward and respectfully makes the cross sign. Killian does not. He strolls past the altar like it’s just another table, causing Liam to frown at his back.

Liam comes to stand at the end of my row on the right side, and at his nod, I slide over so he can sit nearest to the aisle.

It’s really sweet of Liam to decide he doesn’t want me sitting all alone, but it’s only fair to tell him I won’t be that way the entire time.

“My aunt is coming,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says but stays seated.

Killian walks to the opposite end of the row and enters from the left side. When he reaches us, he drops onto the bench next to me.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve learned a little about the Callahans. Marianne has three biological sons, Liam, Luke and Aiden. Liam and Aiden are businessmen and work together. Liam has blond hair and blue eyes, while Aiden has auburn hair with streaks of copper and is even more huge than his tall, muscular brothers. Luke’s in the military. Today, he’s wearing his uniform and looks very stern. Killian most resembles Luke because of his coloring, square jaw and the small cleft in his chin.

Killian is a Callahan son, but he was Mr. Callahan’s son by a mistress. I learned this when Killian called himself a “literal bastard” and I asked him what he meant. Bastard is such a rough word. Most people wouldn’t refer to themselves that way. But Killian isn’t most people. His words are brutally honest, emphasis on brutal.

He often points out he’s only a half brother to the others. No one else ever puts qualifiers on anything. I guess it is weird that Marianne acts like he’s just another one of her sons, but I think it’s nice. Better to feel included than not. For Marianne, it can’t have been easy to be kind and inclusive of Killian when he’s the byproduct of an affair. Killian’s school smart, so I would think he’d realize that, but socially he’s not very attuned to other people.

The shift in music pulls my attention back to the event.

My own dad doesn’t have a big family, and we’ve been living in Boston for a short time, so we only have about twenty-five people on our side of the church. The other side is so full some bride’s people have overflowed to our side.

My aunt finally arrives looking a little frazzled. Her flight got delayed, so she had to rush to the hotel and then here. I hold up a hand to wave at her. Liam rises and steps out of the aisle to let her slip in next to me. Killian doesn’t move as quickly, so I bump into him as I make room.

Giving him a sideways glance, I say, “Want to slide down?”

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