Page 27 of Broken
The large brick house almost taunts my old truck and worn clothes as I walk up to it. When I left that day the only things I took were the money I earned while working and the clothes on my back. I left the new car and all the pretentious clothes they tried to force me into. I didn’t want them to think I owed them anything because I had taken something they had given me.
I knock on the door, not walking right in like I used to. This isn’t my home anymore. One of my father’s assistants opens the door. I don’t know this one but that’s not a surprise. He’s an asshole and goes through assistants at a ridiculous rate.
“Can I help you?” She takes in my clothes and then looks past me to the out of place truck sitting in the driveway.
“Max!” I hear my sister yell.
I push past the snob and walk over to my sister, giving her a hug. “Happy birthday, little sis.”
“You got a vest? Let me see!” She grabs onto my leather.
“It’s called a cut and this isn’t the real thing yet. I haven’t been patched in yet.”
“Whatever, it looks badass.” She laughs and then grabs my hand, pulling me through the house to the backyard. We sit down on the couches outside. “So, tell me what’s been going on. How have things been?”
“They’ve been fine. Same old shit.” My phone buzzes and I pull it out to see another text from Izzy.
Okay. Have fun. Maybe you can stop by when you get back.
Fuck, she’s making it hard to stick to my guns.
“Who’s that?” Mallory is looking at me.
“No one, just club stuff.” I give her a short answer, hoping that it will hold off any other questions.
“Nope. I know that look. Was it a girl?” No such luck. “Have you finally found someone who meets your standards?” She laughs.
“That’s not even fair.”
“Totally is. Every girl around here used to throw themselves at you and none of them were good enough.” Her eyes roll.
I want to tell her it’s because all her friends are self-centered stuck-up bitches, but I don’t. It’s her birthday and I told myself I won’t do anything to ruin it. I’m about to ask her how things are for her when the door to the house opens and my mother comes strutting out.
Her eyes assess me, the disappointment evident. “Maximillian, I’m surprised that you came.”
I hate that goddamn name. “Promised Mallory I would.”
“I see. Do you need an outfit for dinner tonight?” She scrunches her nose at me, obviously unimpressed with what I have on.
I knew coming here in jeans and a T-shirt would piss her off, but I couldn’t care less. “Nah, I’m set.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why you insist on dressing like you’re homeless and poor is beside me.”
I stand up. “Why you insist on trying to force me into this family’s fucked up mold is beside me.”
Mallory stands, laying her hand on my chest. Her eyes plead up at me, begging me to calm down and swallow the shit like I told her I would.
My mother huffs and turns on her heel, going back into the house.
Mallory sits down and looks over at me. “You knew coming here dressed like that would piss her off.”
“That’s the thing that you don’t get, sis. I don’t care. I gave up trying to live up to their idea of what I should be a long time ago.”
Her teeth gnaw at her bottom lip. “I know. I guess I don’t understand why. I miss you being here.” Mallory is a senior in high school. We have always been close even though we are six years apart. Unlike me she’s let our parents plan her whole life. She is even going to the college they chose for her.
“I miss you too, but I was drowning here. I get that you don’t understand it, but I just couldn’t stay. After losing Trent—”
“Stop. Don’t go there. I don’t want to get into all that.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “It’s my birthday. Let’s just have a good time.”
I respect her wishes, knowing that just for today all she wants is to pretend that our family is whole.
The truth is, though, that it hasn’t been for a while.
