Page 5 of Boundaries

“And why would I want to do that? Being mean to you is much more fun,” he grunted, shooting a glance toward his eyesore of a house which loomed in the distance like a huge mistake.

They had built their mansionbrand new over the last few years and it wasn’t in keeping with the other properties in the area. Ostentatious didn’t touch the sides. It was an improvement on their last house, however. The one I used to hide beneath as a child, until some clever fucker had torched the place. And no, contrary to what the McKenna’s believed, the Taylor-Joy’s hadnothingto do with that. The police had fully investigated the incident, and the results had been inconclusive. There had been a few properties in the area around that time that had also suffered from fire. Eventually, arsonhadbeen a suggestion, but there had never been any proof.

I’d been almost thirteen at the time, and had photographed the aftermath with one of my cameras. A Canon F1 that my dad had given me. It was vintage and took camera film. That had been the year that my parents had fed my hobby and had turned one of the cellars in our farmhouse into a darkroom.

I still had the photographs, but I was the only person that had ever seen them. I was proud of what I had captured, the shots were raw and quite poignant, but had never told anyone I was there. How could I? My family had already been suspects initially, and I didn’t want to give any extra weight to those accusations.

Pushing thoughts of the past aside, I attempted the olive branch thing, “Look, I’ve done nothing to you recently.” I had of course done loads in the past. Proper nasty shit growing up, but we were adults now. Wasn’t it time to move the fuck on?

“Your family has done enough and their blood runs through your veins so sorry, but purely by association alone, you’re on my shit list.”

I wafted a fly away from my face and scratched my neck with my fingertips. It was a warm day, and the sun felt angry on my skin. Or was it Mason’s pissed-off expression that was responsible for that burning sensation?

He was watching me with penetrative eyes. They were sly eyes that missed nothing. Sometimes I felt like he could read my thoughts and of course, I was happy for him to do that, then he’d know just how low my opinion was of him. He was a tool of the worst kind.

“Fine. Whatever. I didn’t come here to trade insults with you.”

“No?” Mason questioned with a twist of his lips.

My shoulders dropped. Now, I’d have to explain the reason for my visit, “No. I came to see Boyd, actually. We have a little business to discuss.”

He didn’t like that and his large body stiffened. A tell-tale sign of an approaching man tantrum. Mason McKenna had a short fuse and it wasn’t wise to be the one to light it.

“And what business would you have to discuss with my little brother?”

Little? I almost cracked a smile at that one. Boyd McKenna wasn’t that shy of Mason’s height. All the McKenna children were tall and well-built and without an ounce of fat on their ridiculously toned torsos.

I folded my arms across my chest again and stepped forward. Hooking my chin toward him, attempting to appear unintimidated. If you showed weakness in front of this guy, he tore you a new one.

I shuffled even closer, what I had to say needed to be kept as private as possible. “Spoiler alert but he isn’t so little anymore. It turns out, he’s growing up real fast,” I explained, attempting to reference sexual maturity rather than height.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mason blasted. Jesus, he was wired.

My tone dipped. “I have some bad news I’m afraid. I heard Boyd and Chrissy were getting off with each other at the village car boot last weekend.”

A strange expression flickered over his features before he turned away, showing me his broad back, starting to root around under the bonnet of his car like I wasn’t even there.

“Here we go.” His words were quiet, almost like he was talking to himself. My arms fell to my hips and I planted them there, now in full attack mode. I hated being ignored.

It was a breezy summer afternoon in July and I could have spent my morning sunbathing but no, I’d put myself out with the intention of giving one of the McKenna boys a word of warning. To stay away from my sister. Mason could have been more accommodating. Just by being there, I was putting my neck on the line. As I said before, if my father knew I was there, he would turn me into fertiliser and use me in one of his fields.

Refusing to be snubbed, I changed my stance and shifted to the side of the beat-up piece of shit he was working on. No wonder he had the bonnet up, the thing was probably older than me.

He glanced up, his eyes briefly tangling with mine and I raised my eyebrows before I gave him my sources.

“Betty and James told me, and so I want to know if your player of a brother is trying it on with our Chrissy?” If he was affected by my words, he didn’t show it. His face was totally blank.

Boyd was eighteen and my sister was sixteen and although the age gap was slight, it was their surnames that created the real distance.

Mason pushed himself off the truck with one hand and straightened, gracing me with his attention again.

“So, you’re worried that there’s more to it and Boyd is doing your sister?” Mason stated, shooting me a look of impatience as he grabbed an oil-stained rag and wiped his fingers. I noticed a muscle in his jaw ticked, the only sign that my news had ruffled him. He too would be upset about any more messed-up unions between our siblings, just as much as me. And I say any more unions, as my older sister Jenna was unfortunately, still married to Mason’s older prick of a brother, Nixon.

I batted off that unpalatable fact, “Well, I’m praying they’re not at that stage yet. Just a kiss I heard. Unless you know something, I don’t?” I delivered, dashing a hand across my mouth. Boyd McKenna’s name on my lips made them feel as if they were infected. He was a proper little shit. We were the same age, but I was way more mature and interesting. Boyd’s brain was only big enough to have one thing on his mind at a time, and that was usually what girls kept in their jeans. And no, I didn’t mean lipstick!

Mason moved closer to me and I took a step back. He was one of those, in-your-face types of guys and I certainly didn’t want to share the same air with him.

He perched his hip against the side of the car like he was posing for a photo shoot and crossed his huge arms over his chest. He wore his usual outfit, baggy jeans that sat low on his hips, a checked shirt with the sleeves rolled back, revealing his muscular forearms and work boots. Ones with steel toe caps. I knew that having once come a cropper during an altercation with him which had led to me stomping on his foot. My actions in turn, had led to a broken toe, a visit to the hospital and my tail between my legs. In every fight we’d had in the past, Mason McKenna was the one who came out on top. I never won.

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