Page 14 of Rebels & Rejects

Memories of last night still occupy my mind as I pull open the door to the women’s shelter the next day. I hid in the alley and watched when the mysterious hottie from the bar discovered I’d disappeared. I saw the flicker of indecision in his light blue eyes, but it only lasted a second before a determined resolve replaced it, and he went back into the club. The wave of disappointment that washed over me was even more justification that I needed to stay away from him.

I’ll admit, he definitely was not what I was expecting when I went out last night. He might not have been the blood and the sense of righteous justice I’d been hoping for, but he was certainly intriguing. The way his close proximity heated me up, it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Just looking at him, with his toned torso and muscular biceps had my panties damp, and I was practically coming as soon as he touched me. And holy hell in a handbasket, the sex was off the charts.

My job makes me cynical when it comes to men and sex, but I feel it’s pretty accurate to say that most men are only concerned with getting themselves off. You rarely find someone who gives jack shit about a woman’s pleasure. So, the fact that he not only thought about it but delivered in an exceptional way... well, that’s a rare find.

He had the same hard edges as resident Black Creekians do, yet something was different about him. Not in a suspicious way like Enzo. Just... different. But like I told him, I can’t afford distractions right now. Besides, he’s probably tied up with one gang or another, and there’s no way I’m getting involved in that shit. I know enough to know going out with a gang member is just asking for trouble. The gang will always come first to people like that. I’ve made many concessions in my life, but I refuse to settle for being an afterthought. I’d rather live the rest of my life single, even if it does mean I’ll most likely die alone with twenty cats.

With a smile and a nod to the woman at the check-in desk, I head toward Sheryl’s room, wanting to give her an update. I’m sure she’s been a nervous wreck. She should have gone back to Python days ago, and I know the longer she’s gone, the worse it will be for her if she does go back. Not that she is, but I can understand that the severity of her consequences for staying away for so long will be weighing heavy on her mind. She won’t be able to settle herself until she knows he’s dead and buried.

She pounces on me the second I step into the room. “Is it done?” Her eyes are wide with panic, and she somehow looks even paler than she did the last time I saw her.

“Not yet.”

Running her hands through her hair in frustration, she chews on her bottom lip. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I was upset the other night. I-it wasn’t that bad. I probably over-exaggerated it.”

I plant my hands on her shoulders, waiting until her panicked stare meets my steady gaze. “He hurt Grace,” I say the words slowly, reinforcing them in her mind. “He’ll keep hurting her unlessyoudo something about it.” I pierce her with an intent look. “I promised I’d get rid of him, and I will. Just stay here, out of sight, for a few more days.”

Tears well in her eyes, but she nods her head. I stay for a bit longer, checking on how she and Grace are both doing before I leave. It’s clear she’s not really in the mood to talk, and I’ve got things to be getting on with anyway. I have to work tonight, but tomorrow, Python is all mine, and this time I’m not going to let him slither through my fingers.

By the time I leave Sheryl, it’s late afternoon, and as I walk into the apartment, I find Luc sprawled across the sofa, looking bored out of his mind as he stares abjectly at the TV.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, frowning.

He sighs, barely sparing me a glance as he mutters, “Nothing.”

Oh, well, okay then.

Just about managing to hold back the roll of my eyes, I state, “It’s clearly something. Just tell me.”

His lips thin as he finally shifts his attention to me. “I’m so fucking bored.”

“So do something else,” I reason, quickly losing patience now that I know there’s nothing really wrong with him beyond usual teenage grumpiness.

“Like what?” he argues. “There’s nothing else I can do.”

“I don’t know,” I grumble. “Read one of your comic books.” His face scrunches up, not liking that suggestion. “Or play a game on your phone.” That idea earns me another unimpressed glare. “I don’t know, Luc.” I sigh. “Is there anyone from school you can hang out with?”

He just glowers at me in response. “You know there isn’t.”

I let out a heavy exhale as guilt swarms through me. He’s slowly lost all of his childhood friends over the last couple of years, as they’ve become embroiled in gang business. They always tried to rope Luc in too, but when he wouldn’t budge, they just dropped him. I know it can’t be easy for him to resist that level of peer pressure and slowly lose the people you thought were your friends. I’m beyond proud of him for standing up for himself and refusing to be so easily led astray, but the guilt weighs heavy on my soul. It’s because of me that he’s got no one to hang out with and that he’s stuck mainly inside this tiny apartment when he’s not at school. Honestly, it would be enough to drive anyone crazy.

I remind myself that I’m just trying to keep him alive, and that assuages some of the guilt I’m carrying, but it doesn’t loosen the knot in my stomach when I look into his incensed, stormy-blue eyes.

“Well, why don’t we play a board game?” I offer. I have several hours to kill before I need to leave anyway.

The anger in his eyes softens a little, but he still looks pretty pissed off as he reluctantly agrees, and I go to fetch something from our measly collection. We found them in the storage cupboard when we first moved in, and over the years, we must have played them hundreds of times. There isn’t much else to do around here. Besides, it’s always just been Luc and me—the two of us against the world—and until his teenage hormones kicked in, we liked it that way.

After humming over our choices, I grab the Scrabble box and move to sit on the floor. Luc joins me a moment later, and for half an hour, all is right in the world again as we laugh and tease and make fun of one another, arguing over possible made-up words just like old times.

“Thrubble is not a real word,” I argue while laughing.

“It so is.”

“Use it in a sentence then,” I challenge.

His lips purse as he thinks it over for a second, and I just shake my head.

“Oh, I’m going to go thrub—”

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