Page 12 of Rage's Heart

It was seriously time to start thinking about getting my own place. I loved my bestie, but I wasn’t going to put up with Chad’s crap in my own home.

But first… I yanked back the shower curtain and started the shower. I needed to get ready for dinner with my family.

The moment I walked through Mom’s front door, the smell of roasted chicken and fresh-baked bread wrapped around me like a warm hug.

My stomach rumbled in appreciation, but before I could take another step, the thunder of small feet barreling down the stairs stopped me in my tracks.

“Auntie Mac!”

I barely had time to brace myself before Emma and Brooklyn slammed into me at full speed, their tiny arms wrapping tight around my waist.

“Oof!” I laughed, staggering back a step. “Well, hey there, little monsters. Miss me?”

Emma leaned back and grinned up at me. At eight years old, she looked more and more like Chelsea every day, with the same caramel-colored hair and big green eyes. “Duh. It’s been forever!”

“It’s been seven days.”

“That’s basically forever!”

Brooklyn, who was hanging onto me like a spider monkey, lifted her face from my stomach and smiled that big, goofy grin of hers. “Are we still gonna make cookies later?”

I smoothed a hand over her curls, shooting her a playful smirk. “Are you kidding? I’d never break a cookie promise.”

“Yesss!” She pumped her little fist in the air before squirming out of my grasp, grabbing her sister’s hand, and tugging her back toward the stairs. “C’mon, Ems! We gots to finish the stuffy parade before it’s time to eat!”

Emma huffed, but let her little sister drag her away. “We’re not calling it that.”

“Yes, we are!” Brooklyn insisted.

The two disappeared from sight, bickering the entire way. Shaking my head, I made my way down the hall to the kitchen.

Mom was pulling a casserole dish from the oven, her cheeks pink from the heat, while Chelsea stood at the stove stirring something that smelled amazing. Jack, my ever-pissy older brother, was parked at the kitchen island nursing a beer, watching them like work.

“Hey, everyone,” I greeted, stepping further inside.

Chelsea glanced over her shoulder and flashed me a bright smile. “Hey Mac! Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” I admitted, grabbing the stool next to Jack.

“How was your shift last night, honey?” Mom asked, carefully setting the hot dish on a cooling rack. Her blue eyes met mine, always perceptive, always knowing when I had something on my mind.

I took a deep breath, unable to stop the small grin that crept in as I thought about Rage and Diesel. “It was… interesting.”

Chelsea shot me an intrigued look. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, drumming my fingers against the counter. “I helped this really hot guy rescue a dog last night.”

“At the hospital?” Mom and Chelsea both turned to me with mild surprise.

“No. It was after my shift when I was headed home. I saw the guy down in the ditch and at first I thought something had happened to him so I pulled over. But once I got out of my car, I saw the dog.”

“What?” Jack’s brows pulled together. “That’s fucking dangerous, McKenzie.”

I explained quickly, careful to keep my tone light. “I couldn’t just leave them on the side of the road, Jack?—”

“You pulled over in the middle of the damn night?” His tone went from confused to flat-out scolding. “Jesus, Mac. I thought you had more sense than that.”

And, here we go.

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