Page 49 of Tribute Act

“It went really well,” Mum said, her voice cracking a little with emotion. “The doctor said she’s doing brilliantly.”

Rosie grinned, letting go of Mack to hug me too, before dragging Mack over to the sofa and pulling out her guitar. Within a couple of minutes, they were absorbed, leaving Mum and me to talk.

She gave me the lowdown on the appointment, talking me through everything the doctor had said and his final assurance that Rosie was recovering well.

“That’s brilliant,” I said.

“Isn’t it?” Mum said, her expression a little misty. “Just look at her: she’s like a new person.”

And she was. I hadn’t realised how badly Rosie had been affected by her condition until after the transplant. Seeing her well again, I was reminded of what a livewire she’d been when she was younger and how much she’d changed when she’d been ill.

I watched her and Mack, fascinated. With Rosie, he was different than he was with everyone else. More open, though in a painfully cautious way. Like always, I felt a weird mix of emotions seeing them together. My heart ached to see the wariness in Mack—that fear of letting others in—but the ache was lightened by fond amusement as I witnessed Rosie trampling all over his careful fences and Mack trying to deal with her oblivious trespassing. To my shame, there was still an element of envy in there, that Rosie could reach a part of Mack—hell, say it, his heart—that I couldn’t touch.

Mum must have seen something of my thoughts on my face, though she misinterpreted them.

“I know it’s hard to see the way Rosie is with Dylan,” she murmured beside me. “But it doesn’t mean she loves you any less. You’ll always be her big brother. It’s just that Dylan’s . . . well, he’s new and exciting.”

No arguments from me on that front.

I wondered what Mum would think if she knew that it was the tender, almost confused looks Mack was giving Rosie that I coveted. Her ability to step over that invisible line of his without being pushed back.

A couple of hours later, Mack and I were lounging side by side on the sofa watching TV. Rosie was on her phone as usual, and Mum had her nose in a book.

I stretched and yawned. “I’ll make us all a cuppa.”

I’d just stood up when the front door banged, and a moment later Derek rolled in, all merry after a few pints.

He saw me first and greeted me with a shoulder slap and a guy hug, ruffling my hair affectionately. He wasn’t much of a hugger, Derek, but he got a bit more that way after a few beers.

When we broke apart, he spied Mack on the sofa, and for an instant, he froze. It was only for an instant, but it might as well have been an hour. We all noticed, and I suspected we all knew why he paused. Having hugged me—something he rarely did—should he try to hug Mack too?

Eventually, he seemed to make a decision and stepped toward Mack, but Mack stayed where he was, his expression strained and almost panicky. Derek checked himself midstride, his hands curling into fists at his sides, his cheeks flushing.

“Good to see you, Dylan,” he said with awkward formality. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s only been a week,” Mack replied, his tone abrupt. And fair enough. Given how many years had passed without him seeing his dad at all, a week wasn’t worth mentioning.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“So, Derek,” I said, sitting myself down again. I’d decided a change of subject was in order. “I had the meeting with Fletchers’ Delis today.”

“Without me?” Derek turned to me, frowning.

“Mum said you couldn’t make it because of Rosie’s appointment.”

His frown deepened, and his voice was irritable when he replied. “Well, couldn’t you have rearranged the meeting? You knew I wanted to go!”

I suspected he was redirecting his angry embarrassment over what had just happened with Mack at me, but frankly, I was so fucked off, I didn’t care what the reason was. Since I’d started on my retail project, Derek had done nothing but bitch and complain, disagreeing with everything I’d suggested, yet insisting on being included every step of the way. And if he’d really wanted to be at the meeting, why hadn’t he asked me to rearrange it?

I opened my mouth to bite out a terse reply, but before I could say anything, to my shock, Mack blurted out, “Nathan was amazing—he had them eating out of his hand. You should be thanking him, not criticising him.”

Derek blinked at him. “You were there?”

“Yeah,” Mack said flatly, offering no explanation.

Derek’s gaze shifted between us.

“So, what did they say?” he asked at last, turning back to me. “Did you show them the packaging designs? What did they think?”