Page 2 of Reckless Rebel

She flashes me a grim smile, before plonking herself down next to me, holding out her hand for the bottle. I reluctantly pass it over and she takes a sip as she eyes my once again busted knuckles. I spent the first half of my night pummelling my fists into anyone that would take me on. Even half-tanked, none of them got the better of me. They don’t have the darkness driving them like I do.

“I went to The Ring first,” she says tiredly, not taking her eyes from my hands. “They said you’d come and gone.” From her tone, it’s clear this song and dance we have been doing these last few months is draining her. You and me both Queenie.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” I mean it’s not like it’s a secret that I come here to think, and this isn’t the first time a member of my family has found me here. But still, I wonder how she knew to come here.

She smiles slightly, but it doesn’t reach those baby blue eyes of hers. “You think I don’t know you by now, Jace Conrad,” she huffs a laugh. “I know all your secrets,” she teases lightly, before lowering her voice and adding, “Too many of them.” She frowns slightly when she says the word secrets, and then knocks back more of the whiskey, grimacing as it goes down.

Elle King is the fucking epitome of beauty. Blue eyes, blond hair, sinful fucking curves, and a smile that could light up the world. My brother Marcus is a lucky man. He got everything he always wanted and he got it with his best friend. I’ve never met a pair of people who are more meant to be than they are. The day she walked back into his life and came into mine, is a day that changed everything forever. I wish I could be happy for them, wish I could feel the kind of things they feel. But it’s not in the cards for me. I’m broken. Internally bleeding without a cure. Just waiting for my penance to finally come and claim me.

I couldn't protect them. I failed Rachel, I failed Taylor, and I failed Elle. If it wasn't for my brothers she would have ended up with the same fate. Yet do they punish me? Do they blame me? No. It's worse than that. They love me, accept me, fucking worship the tainted ground I walk on, even with all the fucking bullshit I pull. They remain forever there for me no matter what. I hate it.

"Jace.” Elle’s soft tone cuts into my inner pity party. "We need to talk."

No good ever comes from hearing those four words. "Not really in the mood to talk right now, Princess." I slip into using my old nickname for her, and then cringe when I remember how Greg Donovan used it as a taunt in his games. If it affected her, she doesn't show it. She's stronger than I am. Everyone’s stronger than I am.

"It's been five months,” she whispers into the night, like she can't bear to remember. I don't blame her. "I'm worried about you,” she adds on, and I wish her love could make me feel something.

"I know exactly how long it's been." My tone is bitter, but I can't help it. I know she understands what I went through, she was there, but she doesn't understand my pain and regret. No one does.

She sighs deeply, sliding her hand into mine and forcing my fingers to close around hers. She does that a lot, seeks me out to offer me physical comfort, like she can sense when I'm close to the edge, and I need pulling back. I'm pretty sure her and Cassie are the only things keeping me here. If it weren't for them I would have left, run, and never looked back, just to escape the ghosts that haunt me.

"I'm sorry,” I sigh, she doesn't deserve my shitty attitude.

"You don't ever need to apologize to me, Jace. I just want to know you're okay,” she replies softly.

I want to give her the answer she wants, the one I know she is waiting for. To tell her and my brothers that I'm okay, that I'm ready to move on and join them in the land of the living again, but I can't. I'm not ready. I don't think I will ever be ready.

The remaining cocaine in my jeans burns a hole through my pocket, taunting me, knowing just how desperate I am for that next hit. I need to block out her words and the memories she is invoking in me. Any high is better than all my fucking lows.

"It's late, you should head home." I try, but she is having none of my shit tonight.

"I'm not leaving until you do,” she snaps swiftly with a smile, turning to me. “And trust me, I'll stay here all night if I have to." Her hand feels so small and delicate in mine, yet I know it's anything but. That hand has taken down more men than you'd ever imagine. Her body count is higher than most, and we all bear the scars of those sick men she obliterated.

She knocks back more of the Jack, before passing the bottle back to me. I take the last two gulps and then throw the bottle to the tracks and watch it smash to pieces. The shattered glass may as well represent the jagged pieces of my heart.

"Come on, Jace, let's go home. Please." She stands, offering me her hand. I stare at it in silence, but when I lock my eyes with hers, I see her desperation, her need to help me. It's the only thing that has me sliding my hand into hers.

"You don't like to drink and drive,” I comment dryly, as she helps me to my feet, noting the few slugs of whiskey she stole. Not a lot really, but Elle is anything but careless.

"Don't worry, Pretty Boy, we got a ride." She looks behind me, I turn to follow her stare. Both my brothers are leaning on her car waiting for us. Of course.

I follow behind her slowly as she makes her way over to them. Lincoln offering her the slight tip of his chin, and Marcus pulling her in to drop a kiss to her head. They turn their attention to me, giving me a grim smile, before climbing into the car to wait for me. I take one last look up at the night sky and try my luck yet again at one of Marcus and Elle's stupid traditions. I wish on a star, on all the fucking stars, like I do every night. And like every night, I wish for the same thing. To make it stop. To just make it all stop.

2

Jace

“Jace Conrad, to the Principal's office.” The announcement blares into the classroom and everyone turns to stare at me. They don’t talk to me, I’m the trailer trash with druggies for parents. Everyone here comes from a shitty family and a run down house, but we have it worse than them all, meaning they all give us a wide berth, even the teachers.

I don’t need to pack away any stuff, I don’t have any, none that belongs to me anyway. So I slip off my chair and make my way out of the classroom. When I reach the Principal’s office, he is standing outside waiting for me, but he isn’t alone. A police officer is standing by him and when they hear my footsteps approach, they turn and look at me solemnly. I wonder if they are going to call Rachel here too, I haven’t heard her name.

They usher me inside and tell me to take a seat. Then the next words out of their mouth change everything.

“I’m sorry, son, but there’s been an accident.”

I wake with a jolt as my body pushes me from my nightmares. Apparently even the Ambien I knocked back before I passed out wasn’t enough to keep the terrors at bay. It’s the same almost every night, dragged into the past, a toss up between reliving my sisters murder or Taylor’s, or both.

I struggle to catch my breath and tame my rapid heartbeat. The pounding in my head is something that I’ve gotten used to. I can’t remember the last time I was truly sober, so the hangovers seem to be a permanent fixture these days. I open my eyes and spy the clock on the nightstand. It reads 12:24pm, early for me. My whole body is covered in sweat and when I reach out to swipe a hand down my face, I feel the tremor in it. Fuck. I’ve slept too long. I need something to take the edge off.

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