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“How the hell would I know?” Mack replied. “Don’t even know where the fuck she is.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, babe,” Rose said, sliding her arm around his waist. “She’s an adult. She can handle herself.”
It took everything inside me not to make a comment about how well Kara had been handling herself for the last five years, but it wasn’t the place or the time for that kind of conversation.
“I left a message to call me back,” Mack said.
“Let me know when you hear from her?” I asked, trying to keep the worry from my voice. Where the fuck was she?
“You know somethin’ I don’t?” Mack asked, staring at me.
“Got into an argument last night,” I replied.
“And?”
“And she was pissed at me, but she was fine.”
“What was the argument about?” Mack pressed.
“Jacob Mackenzie,” Rose scolded, slapping his stomach. “That’s none of your business.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” he said, glaring down at her.
“Ignore him,” Rose told me. “He still thinks she’s twelve.”
I didn’t respond. There really wasn’t any good way to extract myself from the situation without pissing off Kara’s dad. And I really didn’t want to piss him off, but it would be a cold day in hell before I told him what me and Kara discussed privately.
“Come on,” Rose said, pulling at Mack. “Let’s go see where we can help.”
“Don’t you want to know what they argued about?” he asked her in disbelief as they walked away.
“Of course,” she said. “But I’ll find out how I always do—by waiting and eavesdropping. Have you learned nothing from me?”
“Gotta admit,” Will said as we watched them go, “I don’t envy you dating my niece. Rose is going to be the mother-in law from hell.”
“Don’t say that about your sister,” Molly scolded. She looked at me. “But he’s right. You’re kind of screwed in that department,” she said sympathetically.
“At least you’ll always have a babysitter?” Will said, making me pale. “You know, when you guys are ready and shit. A long, long time from now.”
“Good lord,” Molly said under her breath, glaring at me. “If you get that girl pregnant, I’ll castrate you.”
My hands went involuntarily to my crotch.
“Do you have those gloves?” Charlie asked as she came jogging toward us. “And why are you holding your junk, ya fucking weirdo.”
I dropped my hands and handed Charlie the bag.
“We’re just going to start at the outside and work our way in,” she said as she grabbed a pair. “Did Kara stay at Rose and Mack’s?”
“She was never there,” I replied quietly. “No one knows where the fuck she is.”
“As if we didn’t have enough shit to deal with,” Charlie said. “Mack seemed worried?”
“No, just pissed that her phone went straight to voicemail,” I replied.
“That’s good, at least,” Charlie said with a shrug. “If there was something to worry about, they’d be in a huddle commanding the troops.”
“You think it has somethin’ to do with the club?” I asked in alarm. I hadn’t even let my mind wander in that direction.
“Nope,” Charlie said firmly. “I think she’s being an asshole and making everyone worry for no reason.”
I didn’t bother responding. What could I say to that? Kara had been all over the place lately, pulling me in and pushing me away over and over until I wasn’t sure where we were at. I hated to think it, but it had been a hell of a lot easier when she’d just been avoiding me—at least then I’d known what to expect.
We got to work on the rubble, picking through pieces of the house—most of it unrecognizable. My grandparents were going to have to rent a dumpster or two in order to get the property cleaned up, there was no way around it.
“I’ll be damned,” my Gramps Casper said from a few feet away. “Hey, Cam, you remember these?”
“Is that my coin collection?” my dad asked, picking his way toward us. “I thought I lost that!”
“You must have hidden it somewhere—” my gramps looked around “—in the kitchen or your old bedroom. Think that’s where I’m standin’, anyway.”
My dad laughed as Gramps handed him the small metal box.
“Well, fuck,” he said as he rifled through it. “Now I’ll never know where it was.”
“In the kitchen or your room,” Gramps replied. “Hell, I just told ya.”
“I wonder if any of these are worth money,” Dad said, picking up a dirty coin and rubbing it clean with his shirt.
“Yeah, right,” my gram called. “I doubt a dime from 1982 is worth anything more than ten cents, honey. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“I had older ones than that,” my dad shot back defensively, holding the box to his chest.
“If the only thing we find is that damn coin collection, I’m gonna be super pissed,” Gram said.
We continued to sift through the rubble, but we didn’t find much worth saving. Some dishes made it, but they were mostly broken and unusable. We also found some wire coat hangers, metal knobs from dressers and most of an inversion table that Gram had bought to help Gramps’ back and he’d refused to ever use, saying he wasn’t going to hang upside down like a fucking bat. Eventually, we all just kind of gave up. There wasn’t much worth saving.
