Page 62 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

Chapter thirty-eight

What Do You Mean?

" W hat the hell do you mean, Melody?" Isobel snaps, shifting her weight in the seat at the dining room table.

She smoothes her hand down the sleeve of her tan, cashmere sweater, playing with the tank watch Hendrix gifted her for their first anniversary before throwing an irritated look to Mason, then bringing her gaze back to mine. "You can't just quit school-"

"Yes I can!" I snap, slapping my hand on the table.

"Respecfully, Isobel, that's not your decision to make!" Mason backs me up, tossing back the rest of his whiskey.

I can't blame him, really. I love her, but Isobel's been more insufferable lately, and it's draining.

Even after an evening and night of pampering she still has that stick up her ass.

"Look, sis," I say, leaning forward and taking her hand in mine. "I love you, okay? You know I do. And I know you've been more like a mother to me than a sister for my whole life, but I need you to be my sister now. Please?"

Isobel presses her lips together and squirms uncomfortably, throwing a look to Hendrix, but he ignores her, his eyes keeping mine while he takes a deep breath with his arms folded over his chest as he takes a second to respond. Moreso soaking in the information than reacting to it.

"Isobel," Hendrix says quietly, turning his face to hers. A blossom of hope erupts in my chest at him siding with me, and I almost can't believe it. "It's time to take a backseat, little demon. They've got it."

Her mouth gapes open. "What?"

"You heard me. We have our own kids to raise, Izzy.

And besides, they need to bump their heads a little, make their own choices.

I think it's time we just chill out for a bit.

Because how we've been handling it is obviously not working.

" He arches a brow, turning to look at me.

"I believe you can find your own way, Mel, and I'm sorry if we got in the way of that.

We were wrong. You know that we'll always be here to support you though. Both of you. No matter what."

Isobel blinks rapidly, looking stunned.

I peek a look at Mason, not quite trusting it .

He looks just as stunned as she does, his fingers rotating his empty crystal glass over and over. Instinctively, I can tell he's not sure to trust it, either.

From our conversations, I've come to really see just how complex and off their family dynamic has been. The family secret that Richard won’t discuss has been weighing heavily on all of our minds, and I've heard Mason and Teresa on the phone late at night talking about it which lets me know it's got everyone in a whirlwind.

It's brought up a range of questions: about why Richard won't get close to the boys, and how he holds us girls so close, as well as how that might be affecting the men. I've paused mine and Richard's fencing practice, not feeling comfortable continuing while everything's so tense between us all.

I don't want to hurt Mason by flaunting the ease of Richard's and my relationship in his face, deciding instead to move forward as a unified front. Us against them, if you will.

I hate it has to be this way, but he's my husband first and foremost.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Isobel nods, tightening her lips. "Well, is there anything you're interested in besides running?" she asks softly, brushing her hand down her wavy, deep auburn hair. Another little blossom of hope sparks in my chest.

"Well…" I smile, looking over at Mason. "I've really been baking a lot lately. And Mason's suggested maybe opening a shop." I furrow my brow, taking a quick sip of my tea. "But I don't know about that. I have no clue how to start a business or-"

"Well, we do." Hendrix interrupts in an excited tone. "Whenever you're ready, that is…" he trails off, looking rather sheepish.

"But that's the thing," I huff a deep breath. "Even if I did, what does baking have to do with King Dynasty? My business would add no value to your company whatsoever. And I don't even know if I'm really good enough to-"

Mason holds up a hand. "Wait, stop. I'm going to pause you right there. You have the skill, butterfly. But I think what might be smart is to do it for awhile -with no pressure from any of us- and see if you think it's something you'd be comfortable with in the long run."

Hendrix nods, agreeing. "You're young. No one's going to deny you the time you need to figure it out. Deciding on a career is something no one should feel rushed into." He puts his eyes to Mason, who just slides a hand around my waist and presses a kiss to my temple.

I nod. "Well, thank you."

"No problem, sis. And besides, you could make that a part of the King Dynasty if you wanted to.

We have office buildings and conferences all over the world.

An in-house bakery business that caters to those events would be beneficial, and busy; if that's something you'd be interested in, that is.

Everyone loves a good cookie or croissant," Hendrix adds.

Chewing my lip I look over at Mason, who's staying quiet, letting me decide for myself. "I, uh… I think I'd feel better if I took my time. Let me see if this is something I can see myself really loving before I commit to anything."

"Sure."

Hendrix, Isobel, and Mason nod, and now it's my turn to squirm in my seat. "Henny," I say hesitantly, wetting my lips nervously as anxiety causes me to flush hot. "Can I tell you something?"

His brow lowers, getting a concerned look on his face as he leans forward, bracing his arms on the table top. "Sure, Mel. You know you can talk to me about anything."

My eyes fall to the empty plate in front of me. Tears well in my eyes as I let myself be vulnerable, realizing the four of us are turning a crucial point in our relationship and wanting to show them that I can change, too.

"These last few years have been really hard," I bite out in a thick voice, wiping a tear off my face with the back of my hand.

"I've been feeling really lost, I guess.

And hurt because I don't have a dad. And I just want to tell you how much I appreciate you stepping in and filling that role for me.

" I sniff. "I'm sorry for crying like this, but it's been so hard seeing your family deal with all of…

this. All the stuff that you all are dealing with, and it's been making me think more about our family situation a-and my father.

I wish I had a father to fight with, and he's d-dead.

" I sniff again, my fingers trembling. "So I just wish you all could figure this thing out, you know? Because fighting isn't worth it."

"Oh, Melly," Isobel's chin quivers as tears fill her own eyes, but she doesn't come to me to smother me like she normally does.

Hendrix's eyes widen, and a look of shock crosses his face before he carefully conceals it behind his everyday mask. Everyone goes quiet, and Mason's fingers tighten on my shoulder as he, too, stays silent.

"You know it's my pleasure, Mel," he says in a soft voice. "I love you, sweetheart." A tear falls down my cheek, and he stands up, rounding the table and pulling me in for a hug. "Come here."

I squeeze him back, taking the familiar scent of him in. However, for the hundredth time I wonder what my actual dad smells like. What would he sound like.

He reaches forward and clasps Mason hard on the shoulder, and they share a long look that I can't decipher.

Hendrix returns to his seat, and we switch the conversation to other things. Catching up on the day to day stuff. Mason and Hendrix's relationship seems easier and a lot less forced, as is mine and Isobel's. Though I can tell she's not happy with me quitting college .

But I feel heard. And, most of all, respected.

"You're doing a bit much today, aren't you?" I glance at my mom, who's busy doing bicep curls in the mirror of her in-home workout gym.

"Well, I gotta do something to work off that honey cake you brought over, Mel," she huffs through a curl that looks unnecessarily painful. "Your sweets are wayyy too luscious for me to let sit on my hips like that."

"So, what exactly is Isobel being honored with at this wedding?" I ask, running on the treadmill next her.

Physical fitness is about the only thing I think mom and I have in common. Though I love her to death, we're not exactly close because of her absence when I was growing up due to her working under the table for money so we wouldn't be discovered by Isobel's father.

Isobel took over mothering me because mom was gone so much until I was about fourteen when Isobel was able to help with money from her interior decorating business. And even though I lived with mom after Isobel moved in with Christopher, Isobel only really disappeared when we worked out.

She was there to take me shopping for clothes, only relenting to mom's outfit restrictions. Was there for every parent teacher conference right alongside mom as if she was the second parent and came to every track meeting. She only missed one time when she had the stomach flu.

Mom's eyes flit to mine in the mirror .

"Apparently with the wedding alliance between Amelia Scognamiglio and Joaquin Baluducci, she and the King family are being granted protection from both the East and West coast mafia.

It's a very big deal because it includes protection from the other mafia families within the states. A tall order, if you ask me."

"That's nice." I hit the button upping my speed, and clocking the disturbed look on her face.

Mom disdains the mafia. I'm shocked she's even going.

Mom nods, putting the weights down and taking a drink of her protein shake, wiping her face with a towel.

I eye her well-defined body, wondering for the first time why she feels the need to keep herself toned like this.

Just like she always needed everything neat and orderly.

When she was around when I was growing up, she didn't leave much room for spontaneity.

Everything in our home had a place, and we didn't have much. Hardly any art on the walls. We never really went out to do much of anything fun. Our free time together was spent doing physical exercise because I ran a lot for school. So, that's how we ultimately bonded.

"She needs it, because they're going to forever be a target," she gasps, wiping the back of her hand to her mouth and then bending to grab her curling bar.

I think my arms would fall clean off if I did even half of what she puts her arms through. She won't stop after the curls either. She'll step over to the pull up bar and put her security man to shame with the amount of pull-ups she can do.

I'm impressed she's not bulky, though; she's toned and lithe like an arrow. But don't let her punch you. She broke Hendrix's guard's nose one day when they'd playfully made a wager that her arms were all show, and she couldn't actually hit.

She can .

"So, how's it going with Mason?" she asks, failing to hide the hurt in her voice.

I run for a few seconds, watching her arms contract and flex before answering, fighting the guilt that I just don't feel close to her no matter how hard I try.

I come here every other week to workout, I call once a week to check in, but I can't feel close to her for some reason, and it really bothers me.

"It's nice."

"It's nice," she parrots back, almost to herself. And I hear her asking herself in her head why I won't give her more. It makes me sad because I don't think I'm capable of giving more. But I try anyway, though it makes me uncomfortable to do so.

"Yeah, it's nice. We've decided to not have kids."

Her brows raise. "No?"

"No. We don't want them in this life like this," I explain. "With all these expectations of kids and stuff."

"Ah. I get that, I think."

"I quit school."

Her eyes fly to mine. "Really? What happened?"

"It's just not for me."

"Oh. What did Izzy have to say about that?" Her voice is hesitant.

Her eyes tighten, and I see it for the first time, maybe a hint of jealousy that Isobel took her spot? Is that it?

Does she resent Isobel?

I have so many questions, but don't dare bring it up.

"She didn't like it, but she took it in stride."

Mom bends, setting down the bar and then stepping over to where I'm running, patting me on the arm. "Well, you'll find your way, love."

As expected, she moves to the pull-up bar on the other side of the room, effectively ending that conversation. Despite my effort, we fall into silence, focusing on our workout routine, not having much else to talk about.

A minute later it hits me like a ton of bricks. It's not that she doesn't want to talk. It's because she doesn't have a life to talk about.

I hit the button to stop the treadmill three miles short of my goal and step off, stretching my hamstrings. "Mom," I call out, watching her pull herself up effortlessly on the bar.

"Yeah, honey?" she huffs.

"Get off that thing and let's go find something fun to get into."

She jumps down, turning around and smiling brightly. "Yeah?"

Her excitement makes me feel bad for a moment, seeing she just wanted an invitation. It's when it also hits me that my mother has respected Mason's wishes and has done what she can to not meddle, to give us space, making me melt even more.

"Yeah." I smile, linking my arm with hers and giggle as we make our way out of the room. "Let's get out of here for a while."