Chapter Two

Mackenzie

What’s wrong with his face? All I can see are Jake’s panicked eyes staring at me.

“It’s not my leg.” His voice is hushed, and an uneasy shiver skates over my arms. It’s not that I’m squeamish—how ridiculous would that be for someone going into medicine? But obviously, there’s more going on here than a broken leg. I just can’t figure out why Baz didn’t tell Lucas. Or Will and me when we arrived, if it comes to that.

“Let me take a look.” I’m surprised how calm I sound. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

I hope.

Will hovers beside me, and by his grim expression, he’s expecting the worst. But no matter how bad Jake’s injuries are, they’ll be bandaged. I have the insane urge to reassure Will of this, but then I come to my senses.

“Jesus, Jake,” Rafe grinds out, but when Will and I look at him, he hunches his shoulders, scowls, and turns to glare out the window.

Jake takes a shuddering breath, and his fingers clench around the towel before he slowly tugs it off his face. It’s like watching a climactic scene in a movie, and I can’t help holding my breath. He’s obsessively proud of his pretty boy looks, but despite the derision slung at Atomic Fire from some sections of the media, he has an amazing voice, and their original work is bloody brilliant. Scarred or not, the band could go nuclear—as long as Jake’s voice isn’t damaged.

The towel drops to his shoulders. I blink, disbelieving, and Will leans in so close his breath brushes my cheek. Whoa. Too distracting. I edge away before all my good intentions to treat him like any other of my brother’s friends turn rogue.

“Huh.” He straightens, and his voice snaps me back to the present. What am I doing thinking about him, anyway? I shove the hypnotic scent of his cologne to the back of my mind, ignore the treacherous surge of animal lust from my libido, and concentrate on Jake.

There’s a massive bruise along his cheekbone, and a couple of cuts mar his otherwise unblemished skin. Despite myself, I lean closer to examine them. They don’t even have stitches.

This is what the big emergency is about? I fight to keep my thoughts from showing. He’s only eighteen.

I was only eighteen during my gap year, when I volunteered for three months in a village in Africa. We got worse cuts than this on a daily basis just by living.

“I know. It’s hard to even look at.” He grabs his towel and pins it to his face again. I resist the urge to glance at his brother. At least now I understand Rafe’s frustration.

“I’ve seen worse,” Will states.

I shoot him a glance, secretly impressed by how reassuring he sounds. “It doesn’t look too bad at all,” I add, with what I hope is an encouraging smile.

“That’s right,” Will agrees. “You look fucking fantastic.”

Hold on. Wasn’t that my line? Our gazes clash, and he gives me an apologetic half shrug, which for some insane reason makes me want to laugh.

“What if I’m scarred for life?” Jake clenches the towel, and it’s far harder than it should be to drag my attention from Will.

Remember why you’re here. Too many kids will be disappointed if I can’t persuade Jake to change his mind.

“You know what?” I sit on the edge of the bed and wait until he gives me his full attention. “Girls think scars are so sexy. Bad boy dangerous.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “My fans love my face just the way it is.”

“Of course, they do. And in a couple of weeks, you won’t even have a bruise.” I manage not to glance at his leg. If he isn’t freaked out about broken bones, I’m definitely not drawing his attention to it.

He drops the towel and tentatively touches his face with a finger. “For real? I mean, you know about this kind of shit, Mac.”

I keep on smiling, even though my face aches. There’s no doubt the top consultants in the field are treating him, and they’d have reassured him right from the start that his facial injuries are superficial. But sure, if he wants to take the word of a not-quite-third-year med student over the best in the business, why not?

Twenty minutes later, I’ve managed to extract a promise from him that he won’t announce his imminent retirement on all platforms, and he’s prepared to give it a week or so to see how his face heals before making any long-term decisions. As I stand up to leave, he’s posting a photo on Instagram of his plastered leg.

If that’s not a sign he’s on the road to recovery, I don’t know what is. The tension constricting my chest eases, and I exhale a silent breath of relief.

Baz follows us out of the room. “Cheers, Mac. He’s not been this positive since he came ’round from the anesthetic.”

I can’t stop myself. “He does know he’ll be in a wheelchair for a couple of months, doesn’t he?”

Baz shrugs. “As long as his face is okay, he doesn’t care.”

“Keep us posted,” Will says.

“Sure. But I think it’s safe to say we won’t be pulling out of the fundraiser.”

Baz goes back into the room, and Will and I make our way along the corridor. We don’t speak, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. I sneak a sideways peek at him, which is probably not my best idea, as he’s so hot I hyperventilate.

Get a grip, Mac.

Once outside, I take a deep breath of the early September air and catch a grin on his face. “What’s so funny?”

“Girls think scars are so sexy.” He throws my words back at me. “Is that right?”

Yours are.

I did not just think that.

“Depends entirely on the guy and the scars.”

As we walk back to the car, he snorts with laughter. “I’ve never seen Jake as bad boy dangerous.”

No, but you are.

For fuck’s sake. Stop going there.

“You’d be surprised. His twelve-year-old fans think he’s a real hard arse.”

Will gives a disbelieving grunt. “Spare me.”

“At least he’s not still freaking out that he looks like Frankenstein’s monster.” Before I can stop myself, I bump his arm the way I used to. Except back then, it never sent electric shocks zapping through my body, or a needy throb between my thighs.

Talk about a bad move. I’ve no idea where to look, but since there’s no way he can possibly guess my hypothalamus is massively flooding me with sex hormones, I brazen it out and continue smiling at him like a total twat.

I’ll tell him I’ll get the bus home.

…

Will

I’d forgotten how much I missed Mac’s easy teasing. We used to be good mates, and even when she turned eighteen and something shifted in the way I saw her, it didn’t change anything. Okay, so we might’ve flirted with each other, making it a game, but that’s all it ever was.

A game.

As Lucas’s sister, she was always in the don’t-touch zone.

Then I met Jenna at Uni and thought we had something special.

Yeah, more fool me. When I needed her the most, she didn’t want to know. Don’t think about her. I fell hard, and that one time three years ago was enough. Because I sure as hell never make the same mistake twice.

I try to ignore Mac’s gorgeous eyes, but it’s like we’ve slipped back to that time when things were so good between us. What’s changed? I’ve no idea.

I need to take her back home, stat.

Don’t you dare fucking ask her.

“You want to get something to eat while we’re out?” I fucking asked her.

Her smile freezes. Should’ve quit while I was ahead.

A couple of agonizing seconds pass before she gives a careless shrug. “Sure, why not? I’ll just call Brook and let her know I can’t meet her for lunch.”

She’s going to bail on her best friend to have lunch with me? “Okay.”

We reach the car and she ends her call. “What do you reckon our chances are that Jake won’t change his mind again?” she says.

I open the car door for her. Although I want to tell her everything’s going to be fine, I’m not convinced. “Zero to none.”

She sighs. “I’ve a horrible feeling you could be right.”

I pull into the road and navigate the nightmarish London traffic. “If he’s still not fully committed in a week, we’ll need to think about restructuring the fundraiser.” Sure, this is her project, and I only lend a hand when Lucas needs extra help, but there’s no way I’m letting her deal with this potential shitstorm on her own.

She frowns in that cute way she has when she’s thinking.

Don’t link “cute” and “Mac” together. Been there, done that, lived to regret it.

You don’t regret it as much as you should.

“You know what?” She turns to look at me. “I’ve just had a really devious idea.”

“Who, you?” I shoot her a mocking grin. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Hey, with two older brothers and you, I’ve had great role models.”

“I’m not devious.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

Did she really just Princess Bride me? It brings back way too many memories, but I can’t stop myself. “Inconceivable.”

Her laugh sounds so good. It’s been way too long since anything I said made her laugh. Why did I let things go so bad between us?

“Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, back to my evil plan. Rafe’s voice is just as great as Jake’s.”

I can’t argue with that. “And?”

“What do you think he’d do if he thought Atomic Fire could carry on without him if Rafe took his place as lead vocalist?”

“Cry?”

Her smile vanishes. “Shit, I never thought of that. I just want to give him a nudge, not push him over the edge. Huh. Maybe I better rethink that idea.”

“You know what? He might be fine.” I have my doubts, but stranger things have happened.

“Hmm.” She doesn’t sound convinced as she checks her phone. “Wow, you should see some of these comments Jake’s got on that photo he took of his leg. No wonder he has an ego problem.”

“Does he say anything about retiring?”

“Nope.” She scrolls through the feed. “He’s posting all these fun replies. That’s got to be a good sign, right?”

I’m about to respond when it hits me we’re only ten minutes from my place. Like the car drove its bloody self. Then again, where did I intend taking her for lunch? It’s not a date.

But if Jake doesn’t backtrack, this might be the last time I see her before she heads back to Uni in a couple of weeks.

I don’t know why that bugs me, but it does.

I end up reversing into a resident parking bay along the road where I live, around the corner from Hyde Park. Mac raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

“Park Café?” I lean my arm on the steering wheel and look at her. Sure, it’s only a short walk to Knightsbridge, but asking her to go to a local café instead of a West End bar makes it more casual.

Where we used to meet up sometimes, before she started Uni.

“I thought you were going to invite me into your flat and cook me something amazing.”

“I could knock something together if you want.” There’s fuck all in the cupboards. Although the lack of food in my flat isn’t the reason why I didn’t invite her up.

“Wow, that’s a tempting offer.” She laughs, then suddenly stops and shoots me a look I can’t figure out. Almost as though she’d forgotten who she was talking to. “I didn’t think you were that domesticated.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “I can open a can of beans and boil an egg.”

“Glad I passed on your offer, then.” She gives me a grin, and I have the craziest wish to invite her to dinner one night, just so she can see for herself how domesticated I can be when it comes to the kitchen.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Um, cold baked beans and hardboiled egg, by the sound of it.”

“And your point is?”

She rolls her eyes as though I’m beyond help, just the way she used to when we were messing around. “Park Café’s great.”

“Good choice.” We get out of the car, and as we cross the road, she’s still smiling.

“Any place that serves triple chocolate flan is okay by me,” she says as we enter Hyde Park and stroll along the path toward the café.

“Yeah, I remember the last time we came here, you passed on dessert and then wolfed down mine.” Funny how that memory is as clear as anything, like it happened just the other week instead of two years ago.

“Excuse me. We shared that dessert. It was enormous. I did you a favor.”

“You’re all heart, Mac.”

“I know.” She gives a little huff of laughter. It’s been way too long since things were this relaxed between us. I’d forgotten how good our friendship used to be.

No, you didn’t.

“We spent the rest of the day watching movies at my place.”

“I still can’t believe you’d never watched The Princess Bride before then.”

“Not really my thing.”

“You loved it.”

I watched it because she wanted to. By the end of that summer, we’d seen it so many times, we quoted it verbatim to each other, like a secret code.

Good times.

We make our way across the large alfresco dining area that banks the Serpentine, to the café, with its Roman columns and white-painted French doors. As I open the door for her, it’s like my brain goes AWOL. “We should watch it again sometime.”

What the fuck? That’s never going to happen. What’s wrong with me?

“You’d die if I took you up on that.” She sounds as though she thinks I’m joking.

Of course I’m joking.

“There’s no way you’d do that.” Jesus. How deep am I digging this damn hole? Before I can backtrack and save my dignity, she laughs, and the sparkle in her gorgeous blue eyes fry whatever’s left of my mind.

And then she speaks. “You guessed wrong.”