Page 18 of Rebel
Her breath hitched. The words she’d carried for so long, words she’d buried beneath pride and survival, finally clawed their way up. “Do you really want to know my secrets, Jake? Are you sure that you want to know the truth?” she demanded, her voice raw. “I was a—” She stopped, swallowed hard, forcing the words out past the lump in her throat. “I was a prostitute, Jace. I did it to put food in your mouth, to pay the bills, and to make sure you didn’t end up alone after Mom died. Every single night, I handed my body over to men who walked into the strip club where I danced, and you had no idea. And I never told you because I wanted your life to be clean, because I wanted you to have a childhood. I wanted—I wanted to take care of you.” Jace froze. His breath left him in a slow, shuddering exhale. For a long moment, she thought he wouldn’t say anything. His fists unclenched and fell to his sides. Her brother’s eyes filled with a mix of disbelief, heartbreak, and something else she couldn’t name yet.
“You—you did all that for me?” His voice was hoarse, shaking with the weight of the revelation.
Her shoulders sagged, tears stinging her eyes. “I never wanted you to know. I couldn’t let you see that part of me. You deserved better than that life, Jace. You still do.”
He leaned back, shaking his head slowly, running a hand over his face. “I—I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Rebel. I never realized how much you carried just to keep a roof over our heads. You carried me through it all, and I had no clue how much you sacrificed.” Her chest tightened at his words. Relief, guilt, shame—they all tangled together like a knot she didn’t know how to untangle.
“You’re my sister,” he finally said, voice low, steady. “And nothing, nothing you did—nothing about your past changes that. Not for me. Not ever.”
Rebel’s knees buckled, and she sank into his arms. For the first time in years, she let herself collapse, let herself be held by the brother she’d fought to protect, even when she’d thought she couldn’t survive him knowing the truth about her dark, dirty past. Outside, Bolt’s shadow fell against the window. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Rebel felt his presence, steady and unwavering, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this either. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to breathe.
Rebel pulled out of Jace’s hug slowly, still trembling from her confession. The weight of two months of being locked away in hiding from the Dead Rabbits and Kirk, the burden she’d carried since their mother died, felt like it had finally shifted—if only a little. She wiped at her eyes, trying to regain some shred of composure, but her chest still heaved. Bolt was at the front door, leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her with those steady, piercing eyes. Rebel’s heart skipped; there was something in his gaze that made her feel raw, exposed, and alive all at once.
It felt like hours before Bolt showed back up at the cabin again. The entire time she talked to Jace, she could feel Bolt lurking about outside the cabin. But once they were finished, he seemed to disappear. She wondered if he’d turn back up at some point or continue sulking out in the woods.
She was sitting on the bed, waiting for him to come back to the cabin, when she looked up to find him standing in the doorway. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low.
She swallowed hard and looked up at him. “I think, yeah. I think I’m okay.” But the truth was, she wasn’t okay—she was buzzing with adrenaline, emotion, and need. All the restraint she’d held onto for months finally cracked.
Bolt pushed off the doorframe, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. His hand brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing her jaw, and she shivered. “You don’t have to be alone in this,” he murmured. “You don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.”
Her lips parted. She wanted him. God, she needed him, not just for comfort, not just for closeness, but for the way he made her feel like she could survive anything. She pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the solid heat of him beneath her palms.
Before either of them could think too much, she tilted her chin up, as though daring him to kiss her. Bolt responded instantly, closing the gap between them, crushing his mouth to hers in a desperate, hungry kiss. Rebel gasped, arching into him, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. His arms went around her, lifting her effortlessly, pressing her against him as if the world outside the cabin didn’t exist.
The bedroom was small, the shadows deep, but they didn’t care. Clothes were shed in hurried, eager motions. Rebel’s nails raked down his back, pulling him closer, needing him in ways she’d buried deep down for years. Bolt’s hands memorized her body as though he’d never get another chance.
Every kiss, every touch, every groan against her skin was a promise—a promise of protection, of need, and maybe even of love. But she didn’t want to let herself hope for something that might not be true. When they finally collapsed onto the bed together, tangled and raw, Rebel felt her breath shudder, felt her body hum with a fire she hadn’t realized had been coiled inside her.
Bolt leaned down, forehead against hers, chest rising and falling in tandem with her own. “You sure about this?” he rasped, voice thick with want and worry. “Jace still doesn’t approve.”
“I’m sure,” Rebel whispered back, voice trembling but steady. “I want you. I want this, Bolt. I want us. No regrets.”
His mouth found hers again, slower this time—savoring, teasing, claiming. Rebel wrapped herself around him, every nerve ending singing, every thought of the past, of Jace’s worry, of her own guilt melting away into this raw, urgent need for Bolt.
They moved together with a rhythm older than words, older than fear, older than the walls of that cabin. When it was over, they lay together, exhausted, their hearts hammering in unison as Bolt held her. Rebel rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, letting herself feel it all—the relief, the lust, the love, the danger. She knew that she finally wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
Bolt’s arm came around her, holding her close. “I love you, and no one’s taking this from us,” he murmured, voice soft now, but full of steel. Rebel let herself believe him—she had to because she felt the same way about him.
“I love you too, Bolt,” she breathed.
“Good, then how about you go back to Huntsville with me, and we get hitched?” he asked.
“Married?” she almost squeaked.
“Yep, what do you think?” Bolt asked.
“I think that I like that idea, if we ever get to go back to Huntsville.”
“Well, I had a call from Savage while you and your brother were talking earlier. It’s why I stayed out for so long. You know how shitty the cell reception is in the cabin,” he said. She felt as though she was holding her breath waiting for information about Savage’s call.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He said that your friendly, neighborhood stalker is behind bars and will be staying there,” he assured. “He was wanted in four states for stalking other women, and they finally got him. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he promised.
“Well, I’m not sure if I should be upset that I’m not special or relieved that he wasn’t very choosy,” she teased.
“How about you just be happy?” he asked. “Be happy with me, Rebel.”
