Mark (Next Generation Carter Brother #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Mark

A rhythmic explosion of drums, cow bells and horns echo through the air. Masses of women and men parade down the street, dancing and singing, whilst a few are blowing fire from out of their enclosed fists.

Most of my family are on the beach, partaking in the maypole ribbon dance. I take Freya’s hand, swinging her around as we dance through the crowd. This is the happiest I’ve seen her sober since we both arrived on the cruise.

“Let’s sit down for five,” she yells over the music.

I spot a bench under the shade of a palm tree across the narrow road. “Come on,” I call back, tugging her hand.

We both take a seat, sipping on our cocktails.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Freya breathes in awe.

I glance around, seeing the residents of this island all in their element. Each one of them has a smile, and all are in high spirits as the festivities continue on.

“I could definitely see myself coming back here,” I muse, placing my ankle over my knee as I lean back.

“Even with the eight-hour flight?” she teases.

My eyebrows dip down as I put my arm around the back of her. “Why would you bring up a traumatic experience of mine?”

“Why are you scared of flying?”

I arch a brow. “Are you really wanting a list, because I have a million reasons, so we could be here awhile.”

She rolls her eyes, her attention going back to the dancers. “Then recognise common sense makes no sense.”

I draw back, repeating the words in my head, over and over. Until… “ That makes no sense.”

Snorting, she twists in her seat until she’s facing me. “Anxiety tricks the brain. It tricks common sense. It makes you think you are in danger when in fact, you are utterly safe. If you listen to that gut feeling every time, all you are doing is reinforcing the fear that is stemmed from anxiety,” she replies before taking a breath. “Have you ever done bungie jumping, or gone on a tight rope, or a scary ride?”

“Yeah, lots of times,” I answer.

“When you’re up there, you fight against the fear because the adrenaline is always pumping, right?”

“You could put it that way, yeah.”

“So do the same with the plane. Fight against what your anxiety is telling you to do and just embrace the discomfort.”

“It’s that easy?”

“It’s that easy. Mind over matter,” she replies, her reply so sure and confident. “Plus, you drive, and statistically speaking, you are more likely to get in a car crash than a plane crash.” She holds her hands up when I glare. “Just saying.”

“You should have been a counsellor,” I tell her.

“I wouldn’t be able to handle everyone else’s problems. I believe something like that would shred my soul. I’d probably end up balling like a baby. It would be a disservice to those who need help.” A twinkle sparkles in her eyes. “Plus, if a woman was discussing an ex, I would want to see a picture. I’m that nosey.”

I snort because that is something I would do too. “Do you like teaching?”

“I love it. I got introduced to the children I will be teaching before term ended, and they are amazing. I can’t wait to spend more time with them.”

“So what made you learn sign language?”

“I had a friend at university who had a hearing impairment, so she would teach me. Then because I hate not knowing something fluently, I took a class in the evenings. I hated how sad she would get not being able to join in during conversations at lunch.”

“I’ve been to the classes and I’m still not picking it up. There have only been a few times where I’ve really needed it, but I hate that I’m not getting as good as the others.”

“For Bailey, right?”

“Yes. She was basically a shut in for years because of cruel bullies. When we went to court with her, it made me realise how alone she felt not being able to hear. She was present, but she was alone. Do you know, she would lip read instead of telling people she was deaf?”

“I did. She told me how her and Aiden met,” she admits. “She doesn’t seem to like the hearing aids.”

“She doesn’t, but I can understand why. She spent so long not hearing that it must be unsettling to be able hear every little noise. It would be like a blind person being able to see for the first time. They’d have to learn to read, understand what the signs mean. They’d have to learn a whole other life.”

“She has a fantastic support system though. She will get there. And so will you with your sign language.”

“Fingers crossed,” I reply.

I’m about to ask more about her conversation with her sister, but her attention is drawn to the crowd, her eyes wide. “Oh my god,” she whispers.

I turn in the direction she’s looking and my jaw drops. Max is making his way through the parade wearing an abundance of bright colours matching those in the parade. Instead of wearing a mask, they have painted his face. He’s currently shaking some maracas, twerking his hips side to side to the beat of the music.

He spots us and his smile morphs into a bigger one. “This is the best holiday ever. I’ve met my people.”

The man beside him hears and hollers whilst banging his maracas to his chest. “Let’s go to the beach before he tries forcing us to join him.”

Having learned her lesson to listen to warnings about Max, Freya gets to her feet quickly.

“Come on, join me,” Max yells, whacking the maracas in the air.

“I can hear Mum calling me,” I yell, and help Freya over the small wall that separates the path and the beach. “Bye.”

“Has he ever been tested for ADHD?” Freya asks, concerned when two men pick Max up and place him on their shoulders.

“Apparently our granddad tried when he was a teenager but he somehow managed to get removed from each and every doctors service. It became too much for my granddad so he left it.”

We walk along the beach, and I find myself taking her hand. It’s something I find myself doing a lot, and I find I like it. I like her close.

“Mark,” Lily calls out, waving to us from where she’s sitting under a tree with Jaxon, Mum, Dad and Charlotte.

“What happened to your face?” I ask Charlotte when I see blood dripping down her nose.

Mum winces, holding Charlotte’s head back with a tissue pressed against her nose. “She got smacked with the volleyball,” she mutters.

My eyes widen, my gaze shooting straight to Charlotte. “You weren’t playing, were you?” I question.

Everyone knows not to let Charlotte anywhere near sport activities. She has a habit of getting hurt.

“I wasn’t playing. I was watching Drew,” she mumbles through the tissue.

“Hayden accidentally whacked the ball too hard and it hit her in the face. Drew has gone to get some ice.”

Myles comes rushing over, out of breath. “I can’t find Max anywhere. I think he might actually be on the rubber dinghy in the middle of the ocean.”

“He’s in the parade,” Freya rushes out as she takes a seat next to Lily and Rose.

“In the parade?”

I wince. “ In the parade. Evidently, they like him so much they made him a part of it.”

Mum’s eyes widen. “Someone go and find him. The parade ends in a part of the island not open to the public.”

“That doesn’t sound like a problem,” Dad replies.

Mum glares at him. “He will never make it back to the boat.”

“Again, I don’t see the problem,” he mutters.

She sighs and glances at Myles. “We will never hear the end of it if we leave him on this island.”

Myles scrubs the back of his neck as he glances at Dad. “He already has abandonment issues.”

Dad growls low. “I’m going to kill him. He has kids. He has a wife. A respectful job. Yet even twenty-five years later, I’m still parenting him.”

Mum arches a brow. “Then why did you cry when the twins finished school? I’m pretty sure you said, ‘they don’t need me anymore and I don’t know who I am if I’m not watching over them’. Your words, babe. Your words.”

“I take it back. I take it all back,” he growls, wiping sand off his shorts.

“Dad, you know if you don’t, he’ll act worse than he does when someone is pregnant,” Lily reminds him.

“I’m going. Come on,” he orders Myles.

“Mum, do you have the towels?” I ask.

“I do,” she states, handing me a bag. “There’s also some water in the ice bag.”

“Thank you,”I reply, and reach down to Freya. “Come on. We are going to sit somewhere else.”

She takes my hand and glances over at Lily. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun!” Lily calls out.

“Why aren’t we sitting with your family?”

“Because they monopolise your time, and I want to spend some alone time with you,” I admit.

She stops, pulling on my hand to bring me to a stop. “Careful, you don’t want to be catching feelings,” she warns.

“Puh-lease, you will be the one falling head over heels for me.”

She snorts, continuing down the beach. “You wish.”

“It will happen. I mean, I bet you’re even picturing our wedding and the children.”

“Yes, because all women picture those things because that’s all there is to life.”

“Wait; you don’t want to get married or have children?” I ask, spinning to face her.

Why?

How?

She’s a teacher, for Christ’s sake. She’d be a great mum. I’ve not tasted her cooking so I can’t really comment on the wife thing, but she is phenomenal in bed, and to me, that seems like the most important part of marriage.

She arches a brow. “No.”

“No to marriage or children?”

“Both.”

“How can you not want children?” I ask, but then I see the mirth in her eyes before she masks it. That little minx. “What about the children we spoke of? Do you not want them now? How could you do this to us? And why wouldn’t you want to be married to me? I worship the ground you walk on.”

Sunbathers stop to listen to our conversation. She glances around before turning to me, her cheeks reddening, and not from the sun. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m your sister. I don’t want to marry you or have your babies,” she cries.

Gasps echo around us and heat rises in my cheeks. I race to catch up with her, picking her up. “That was mean,” I scold.

She throws her arms around my neck, laughing. “You deserved it. Despite what society says, not all women need children to build a life and a home. It’s the same as a woman can be a mum and still have a career.”

My brows pinch together. “I didn’t say they couldn’t or that women needed children.”

“You literally said and I quote ‘I bet you’re even picturing our wedding and the children’, insinuating that’s all women think of. Believe me, as a teen, I wasn’t picturing my wedding or thinking of what to call the kids. I was thinking of the day I could go to Ibiza, or if I could blag my mum to let me out to a party on the weekend.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It was a joke. You’ve met the females in my family. Do you think they’d let any of us get away with talking like that?”

She runs her finger down the crease between my eyes. “So serious,” she whispers. “Sorry I took what you said wrong.”

“No, I’m sorry I made it sound serious. I was just teasing.”

“You can put me down now,” she orders, smiling. I do, but then retake her hand. “What about you? Do you want kids and marriage?”

“Hell yes. I want at least one before I’m thirty.”

“Seriously?” she asks. “Or are you pulling my leg?”

“Dead serious. We always knew our family was different. Our great grandparents were our grandparents. My nan, she’s actually my aunt Harlow’s nan. Granddad, my dad, and uncles lived next door to them. They got together, then married. Dad said nan adopted them into her family way before then though. She would always cook them meals or pop round. My aunt Kayla’s dad was there for us, but their relationship wasn’t like ours with our parents. No one would ever talk about why. We called Denny’s dad Granddad, but he passed away far too soon so we didn’t have him long. Our uncle Liam isn’t biologically our uncle either. He’s a family friend Uncle Max and Myles grew up with. But our dads, they only had my granddad and nan. They had no parents, no uncles or aunts. Our kids though, they’ll have grandparents, they’ll have cousins, aunts and uncles,” I explain, taking a breath. “So yeah, I want kids. I want marriage. I want my parents to see, to be there. If you think Lily’s story was bad, my dad and uncles’ is much worse. So us kids agreed that we would make their life full, just like they made ours. We want them to be able to look around at the end and say, look what we did. Look at our family. Because they only had each other and our granddad for so long.”

“That’s… that’s beautiful. You’re lucky to have them. I bet hearing me moan about mine drives them up the wall.”

“Never. They aren’t the sort of people who think people should be happy because they had it worse. They’ve never been like, back in my day…”

“I’m pretty sure your uncle Max told that teenage girl on the boat that she was lucky her mum only smacked her hand because he would have gotten the belt in his day.”

“He doesn’t count,” I reply, dropping the towels. “This is as good a spot as any.”

I help her down on the towel before dropping down next to her. “You mean it’s far enough away from where your family are.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Screams echo in the distance and both Freya and I sit back up, looking in the direction we just came from. “What is that?” she asks, shielding her eyes from the sun.

My jaw drops. “I think that’s my uncle Max.”

“Is he… is he being chased?”

The screaming continues, but this time, we can make out words. “I will not be your man-bride,” Max roars.

“Oh my god,” Freya whispers.

Two women are chasing him, barely concealing their bodies as the fabric of their costumes shift from the running. Behind them are over a dozen police officers.

“Max, you made a pledge,” the woman cries. “We are your people. You have the jewels.”

“You want to use me for my sperm,” he roars. “I won’t go with you.”

I see Dad and Myles running behind the police, trying to catch up.

Max spots us and his eyes widen. “Run. They will come for you next!” he yells as he runs past.

“I think we should go back to the boat,” Freya whispers, gathering the towels. “I’m not going to risk being injured or arrested because of your uncle.”

“Let’s go!”