Page 17 of One Weekend On Mackinac Island
“You’re right. I don’t know everything. For instance, I don’t know why you’d do the things you did.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she insisted with vehemence.
That’s when it dawned on me. She’d had help. “Ah, I see. You had your partner in crime do your dirty business.” My eyes shifted to Scott.
“You're just Kit the Nitwit, that's all you'll ever be,” Scott sneered, his voice dripping with scorn. The cruel words stung like a slap, each syllable a hammer blow against my heart. “Everybody here knows it. Including him,” he finished, his finger stabbing the air in Owen’s direction.
Nope.
Just no.
The anger inside me had finally boiled over. I wasn't going to take it anymore. I knew better. Hearing those words all those years ago, I should have recognized the truth behind them, but at the time, I was foolishly naïve. Those words had gnawed at me relentlessly. I hated that I’d let them have such a powerful hold on my emotions for so long.
“You know, after all this time, I'm still waiting for you to come up with something more clever,” I goaded. “They say with age comes wisdom. Guess ‘they’ never met you.” I could barely hear Tria's snickering, lost amidst the tension radiating from Scott’s blazing eyes, which burned with suppressed fury and made me feel a prickle of unease. He took a threatening step closer, his eyes narrowed, and the air crackled with tension. Owen, however, was faster, stepping between us, his body tense, like a shield against the gathering storm.
His eyes suddenly lit up with understanding. “Ah. I see how it is.” He turned his sneer on Owen. “Fucking the nitwit, huh? Your choice of partner isn't very bright, which doesn't say much about your own intelligence.”
Owen's body was rigid, his jaw locked tight, and the tension radiating from him made me uneasy about what might come next. I reached out and clasped his arm, hoping the touch of my hand would bring him some measure of calm. A sudden surge of energy flowed through his body, a fleeting tightening beneath my palm, before the tension dissipated imperceptibly.
Before either one of us could respond to Scott’s taunt, Todd stepped up. “Careful, Chambers. That’s my sister you’re talking about.”
“So? I recall you saying worse things about her.”
Todd rolled his eyes so hard that they practically disappeared into his head. “Yeah, when I was an asshole teenager. I grew out of my childish tendencies. What about you?”
“Fuck you, Larsen. You’re just as much of a loser as your sister.”
Okay. This was getting us nowhere. “Your words are just that . . . words. They mean nothing. Actions, on the other hand, speak volumes.”
Scott's confused rage, a sudden eruption of anger mixed with bewilderment, was directed at my brother and then, like a spark blown about by the wind, landed on me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“How much of what's happened the last few days is your doing?” Something flashed in his eyes. Was he so shocked by my comprehension of him that he could only respond with disbelief? “I’m thinking the slashed bike tires was your doing. There’s no way Stephanie would dirty her hand attempting it.”
“The tires were slashed?” Tria gasped.
“They were,” Owen said. “The rental place confirmed it.”
“But why?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” I acknowledged. “Care to offer an explanation, Scott? Or what about you, Stephanie?”
A hush fell over the crowd as everyone turned their attention to the blond woman, their eyes drawn to her striking presence. The black lace pants she had chosen were so revealing, they hardly concealed anything. The tight tube top, hugging her curves, was a striking contrast to the sleek black blazer she wore, emphasizing her feminine form. There was no doubt she was a beautiful woman, but it was all skin deep.
Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger lighting them, and I braced myself for her wrath. “You’re so full of yourself. Always think you’re better than everyone else,” Stephanie snapped. “Now you’re making up lies and turning everyone against me and my brother.”
“Pretty sure it’s the truth. Let’s see. Scott did the tires, that’s a given. I’m thinking he unplugged the refrigerator while you distracted the owner.” And the rings . . . that was you, of course.”
Tria groaned. “The flowers too. That was you?”
“And the rings . . . that was you, of course,” I continued, undaunted. A collective gasp rose from the crowd, its unity almost comical given the gravity of the situation.
“She's lying!” Stephanie cried, her voice shrill with panic as she frantically scanned the faces of the crowd, her eyes searching for someone, anyone, who might believe her. Then something dawned on her, and her expression changed from one of alarm to realization. “Is this payback for the kayak thing?”
“What kayak thing?” my dad wondered.
“Later, Dad,” Todd muttered. “This is getting good.”
“I’m not as malicious as you,” I said, answering Stephanie’s idiotic assumption.
