Page 36 of Bad for You (MacKenzie Scottish Crime Family 3)

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Camdyn

The gears in my brain whirl furiously on Monday evening. I’ve cut and seasoned raw potatoes, contemplating the spirited Willow and how she saluted me today at school.

“Add nuts to the tatties,” Eleven-year-old Rory says, side-eyeing Lachlan, who’s two years older and has a peanut allergy.

Standing next to the air fryer, I glare into his sparkling green eyes.

“Rory, stop tryna kill Lachlan, damn. You’re tiny and my blood, so how do I threaten you?”

The little shit snorts. “You don’t.”

“First of all, this is an afternoon snack, not a science experiment,” I wag a finger at Rory. He took science last year for the first time. Now, he’s out to kill everyone in a controlled environment.

“Second, next time Lach comes for you, I’ll watch you get that shiner you’ve been begging for.”

On the other side of the massive island, Rory plants his elbows onto the wooden slab countertop. “I’m gonna get Brody and Leith to beat your ass.” He mentions our adult brothers.

I click my tongue. “They’ve already tried, squirt.”

“Or Jamie.” He chuckles. “He had the bat that one time. He can finally kick ass.”

“Eh, doubtful.” Lachlan tosses a potato wedge at him.

I give Rory the eye. They know Jamie finally took his first life. Long after our father’s usual timeframe for teaching his seven sons how to defend themselves.

Lachlan just got his training. Jamie never did.

The sixteen-year-older is seated at the breakfast nook, head down like a pussy as usual. He never joins in our brotherly squabbles. I lift the potato wedges from the air fryer and sit next to him.

“Jamie, you good?”

“Yeah. Homework.”

“Homework will always be there. Why don’t you get . . .” I clear my throat. I can talk to any of my boys about pussy, not Jamie. Lachlan’s fingered girls in middle school. Nine-year-old Jake has seen a porno on YouTube. Jamie? I highly doubt it.

I try again. “Get you a cute face to look at sometimes.”

“I have one.”

An eyebrow lifted, I ask, “So, you weren’t going to tell your big bro you’re seeing someone?”

“We hardly met.” Jamie lifts his pencil. Discussion finished.

I was going to ask him about Willow. After sauntering toward me, growling she’s present and saluting me, she’d avoided me all day today. I wanted to see how she’s fairing in the class they share. Instead, I ask, “Your girl new?”

“She’s not my girl. She doesn’t belong to anyone. But no . . . I’ve known her a long time.”

His attention drops to the textbook on the table.

That doesn’t make sense at all. First, he had said they’d hardly met, yet he’s known her a long time?

We started DuPont at the beginning of the year. We changed schools strictly because my eldest brother, Brody, had some concerns about me. DuPont has been the best environment for Jamie. He’s a sophomore who will graduate high school with enough credits to satisfy an AA degree.

I wonder who the mystery girl is.

Is she real? Or is he losing it again?

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