Give Me Hell, Page 3

  His expression turns smug. “I heard Mum and Dad talking about it late last night. He was going to stay with us until they tracked down his relatives, but apparently Jake doesn’t have any. Anyway, he’s probably going into some kind of boy’s home.”

  “What about his mum?”

  Jared shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t hear them mention her. Maybe she’s dead.”

  Having given me the facts, Jared un-pauses his game and continues his race. I watch blindly, unable to move. My mind is on Jake. All I can picture is him getting taken away and facing a future alone, those eyes of his so flat and empty.

  “I wanted to say sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “About your party.”

  He was apologising over my stupid birthday party after his whole life had completely fallen apart. Guilt has my stomach rolling over.

  “I’m such a bitch,” I whisper.

  “You got that right,” Jared throws out cheerfully, focused on his game.

  “Go fuck yourself,” is my retort as I leave the living area for my bedroom. Taking a seat at my study desk, I sit down and pen Jake a letter. When I’m done, I fold it carefully, seal it in an envelope, and write JAKE ROMERO in block letters across the front.

  “Mum?” I call out, jogging down the stairs.

  “In the office!” she calls back.

  She’s sitting at her desk, tapping the keyboard when I drop the envelope in front of her. “Can you give that to Jake?”

  Mum looks at it, then at me. “Oh, honey. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “What?” I frown, folding my arms. “Why not?”

  She releases a deep sigh, swivels her chair to face me, and takes off her reading glasses. “I worry about bringing these kids home. Here. Of you being exposed to their…” she pauses for a moment as if trying to find the right word “…troubles.” Mum tilts her head, green eyes revealing concern. “I don’t want you getting attached.”

  My chin juts out. “I’m not attached.”

  “Either way, it’s not a good idea.”

  “Mum, seriously!”

  She slides her reading glasses on and returns to the computer, re-focusing on her work.

  “Don’t ignore me, Mum, it’s rude!”

  Mum turns her head and peers at me over the top of her glasses. “No, Mackenzie, what’s rude is you. I’ve given you my answer and it’s final.” She goes back to her keyboard and begins tapping. “Why don’t you go swimming, hmm? It’s a lovely warm afternoon. Your father’s going to fire up the barbeque soon. We’ll eat outdoors tonight I think.”

  With a frustrated growl, I snatch the letter and stalk back to my room, making sure my angry stomps are loud as I make my way up the stairs. I place the letter in the bottom of my underwear drawer and as the days and weeks, and then the months and years pass by, I never once get Jake Romero from my head.

  Three years later…

  I take a sip of my drink and relax against the recliner by the pool. God bless the first day of summer holidays. No homework or assignments—just an endless stretch of sunshine, barbeques, and only one brother to deal with. Jared is holidaying on the Gold Coast with a friend and their family, and Travis is at a go-karting camp—the very idea so lame I couldn’t even summon a laugh at his expense.

  Drink in hand, I expel a deep sigh of pleasure and close my eyes behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses. After several minutes, I zone out in the heat of the day. Moments later a ball slaps me up the side of my face. I jump a mile in the air. Sticky cordial splashes down my front and stars dance in my vision. I raise a hand to my cheek, making sure it hasn’t imploded from the impact.

  When I’m sure there’s no serious damage, I aim furious eyes at my brother where he’s playing volleyball in the pool with friends. “Goddammit, Stitch!”

  I know he threw the ball. The savage hit is payback for plucking away at the threads in the backside of his school shorts. It took all day, but they finally split right down the seam when the afternoon bus arrived and he bent over to pick up his school bag. It was brilliant. I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. I can even say it’s worth a punch to the face with a volleyball.

  Still. I can’t let this go. Setting my drink down, I grab the ball and stand. Stalking to the edge of the pool, I glare down at him bobbing in the sparkly blue water. His friends stare. Particularly Elijah Rossiter. I have teeny flourishing boobs and an itsy bitsy bright red bikini. The ensemble is enough to set my brother’s lips in a thin line as I stand by the edge, palming the weapon between both hands.

  My eyes flick to my brother’s best friend. Eli is the son of Alan Rossiter, a big hairy deal in the policing world and one of Dad’s closest friends. He’s in the same grade as Mitch, and they’ve grown up together, forming a friendship that appears as unbreakable as iron. Eli is also hotter than the surface of the sun. His hair is blond with a slight curl, his skin tanned, and eyes a pale blue like the waters along the coast of the Great Barrier Reef. Dimples form as I spare him a glance. I’m not a particularly likeable person so his attention confounds me. Eli is eighteen and has the pick of any girl in school, yet that charm of his always seems directed on me.

  My eyes warm and lips curve the briefest fraction in response to his grin. I simply cannot help it. He’s like hot chocolate on a wintery day.

  Then my gaze turns to my eldest brother and my fiery glare reforms. Without any warning, I peg the volleyball hard at his face. I’m aiming for his nose but a noise from behind distracts me and sets the ball off course. It bounces off Mitch’s forehead.

  “Nice aim,” quips a male voice from behind me—a voice I haven’t heard in three years.

  “Not nice enough,” I snap, irritated because that particular voice sets my heart off like a bongo drum. Turning, I come face to face with Jake Romero himself and freeze on the spot. Those flat and empty eyes of his are a little harder now. The reed thin arms are filling out, and there’s muscle definition beneath the snug-fitting tee shirt that wasn’t there before. Heat pools in parts of my body where I’ve never felt heat before. It leaves me dizzy and uncomfortable and completely unprepared. “Back so soon, Romero?”

  Jake shrugs, a cocky grin forming on his lips. “Couldn’t stay away, it seems.”

  I arch a brow. “Maybe I can help you with that.”

  “I’m sure you can.” His smile turns mocking as he takes in my wet, sticky bikini. “But seeing you get all wet is too much fun, Princess, so I think I’ll stay for a bit.”

  I bristle. Princess? I was fully prepared to offer Jake an apology for my childish behaviour from years ago, but I bite it back. That old letter I wrote is still sitting in my drawer. My new plan is to tear it into little pieces because my original instincts about him had been spot-on. Jake is a total dick.

  My eyes narrow behind my sunglasses. “Stay away from me.” I brush past him, muttering, “Party wrecker,” which is lame but it’s all I have.

  “Nursing a grudge, I see.”

  I halt and turn. My eyes track slowly down the length of him and back up again. The gesture is meant to mock but judging from the amused expression, Jake notices the goose bumps rising over my skin. “I can nurse anything I like. Last I checked this was my house. What are you doing in it?”

  “What are you saying? You didn’t miss me?”

  “Miss you?” I snort. “It’s lucky I even remember you.”

  A loud splash comes from the pool. Both Mitch and Eli are hauling themselves out. They make their way toward us. Eli brushes wet curls from his face as they track pool water across the sandstone tiles.

  “What’s going on?” Mitch asks when they reach us. Eli stands beside him, his brow in a slight furrow and hands on his hips.

  “You remember Boy Wonder don’t you?” I say.

  Eli’s brows soar. “Boy Wonder?”

  A scowl spreads across Jake’s face, creating creases along his forehead that only serve to heighten his appeal. “My name is Jake.”

  “
Romero,” Mitch says, holding out a hand. “I do remember you.”

  Jake takes a step forward and shakes it. It has his shoulder brushing against mine. The move feels deliberate.

  Eli holds out a hand next, a friendly smile forming across his face. “Elijah.” He looks between the two of us as Jake shakes it, his eyes sharp with curiosity. “You’re a friend of Mac’s?”

  “No,” I answer at the same time Jake says, “Yes.”

  An awkward pause follows.

  “Well, this reunion has been super fun,” I say brightly, “but I have some reclining by the pool to do. If you’ll all excuse me.”

  “Actually you don’t.”

  I pause. Jake’s declaration has everyone’s brows rising in question, including my own.

  “Mac and I are going skateboarding down at the local park.”

  My nostrils quiver with instant excitement. Enough to ignore the insulting Princess nickname Jake gave me earlier. My brothers have their own skateboards. I don’t. It’s not a female activity. Being the youngest and the only girl might make me mightier than Maximus Meridius himself, but it’s zero fun. I’m not allowed to do half of what my brothers do. Instead, I get imprisoned in my little ivory tower and treated like glass.

  I do admit to being a slight trouble magnet, but I can’t help my nature. I don’t have a death wish, I’m just determined to prove that I can do whatever my brothers can: whether that’s shooting at the range, punching a school bully in the playground, or paddling out beyond the ocean break to surf the big waves.

  There have been a few incidents over the years, like the time I shot Jared in the face with a paintball gun, but he taunted me by saying I couldn’t hit him square in the nose from twenty paces. I might have missed, but not by much; my aim was a little too far to the left and he almost lost an eye. Then there were the suspensions from school for fighting … but I can’t see how it’s my fault for being honest. It seems people don’t like hearing the truth about themselves. It makes them angry and violent. And while I don’t like to start fights, I sure as hell like to finish them.

  Mitch is already shaking his head at Jake and my blood boils.

  “That’s right,” I say with a firm voice to my brother, corroborating Jake’s story. “We’re going skateboarding, which means there’s no time for reclining by the pool. We have a park to get to.”

  Mitch rears up. “Oh hell no, Mac. You—”

  Eli slaps a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Dude, let her go.” He offers me a wink. “Be safe.”

  I grin in return before shooting sullen eyes at my brother. “Later, asshead,” I tell him as I snatch up Jake’s hand and tug on it, leading him toward the sliding doors that open to the back of the house. It’s our first contact and my skin hums. It’s like being attacked with static electricity.

  “I’ll be telling Mum about this!” Mitch shouts to our backs.

  Anger twists my belly into a knot, yet I keep moving. It’s Jake that stops and turns, forcing me to a grinding halt. “Actually it was your mother’s suggestion,” he tells my brother.

  Mitch’s eyes widen. He’s completely dumbfounded. Even Eli appears a little taken aback. “It was?”

  I am too. Skateboarding isn’t a ladylike endeavour. It also goes against Mum’s mantra of keeping me unattached from the strays she brings home. “It was?” I echo.

  “No,” he says in a voice low enough that only I can hear. His hand squeezes mine, and my breath hitches from the renewed sensation. “Just roll with it.”

  “It was,” I say to Mitch, and just like that Jake becomes my very first co-conspirator in crime. “I know all the local parks.” I don’t. And I’m sure he knows it. “Mum probably thinks it’s a good idea to get out of the house. You know, sunshine, fresh air…” my eyes narrow “…and an outdoor activity that doesn’t involve smashing people in the face with volleyballs, which I’m sure she’d love to hear about.”

  My jaw still throbs. I rub at the sore spot and wince a little. Mitch’s suspicious expression eases into one of contrition yet his arms still fold unhappily.

  “Well, you split my pants.”

  “Prove it,” I retort and pull Jake away before my brother can escalate the situation.

  “Bring her back in one piece, Romero, or else!” Mitch yells to our retreating backs.

  “Or else what?” Jake asks as I lead him through the back door toward the stairs.

  “Eli and my brothers know how to shoot.” I let go of his hand and climb the stairs to change, saying over my shoulder, “They’re pretty damn good at it. And so am I.”

  Jake waits at the bottom, looking up at me with brows high. “No shit?”

  I grin. “No shit.”

  Our trip to the park is an epic disaster. I struggle on the skateboard. It’s humiliating and I hate to fail. At anything. But I like to consider myself bold and fearless, so I put my game face on and persevere. The heat of embarrassment leaves my cheeks when I eventually catch on. Hours later, the sun is setting and I’m tired and sore, but I’ve begun riding that skateboard like I was born to do it. I don’t just impress Jake with my new ability, I impress myself.

  Jake whoops and flies by me on his own board, encouraging me to heights of recklessness. A bolt of confidence shoots through me like an electrical charge. My legs take command of my body, forcing me to perform a manoeuvre my brothers would classify as insane.

  My borrowed skateboard hits the ramp and I go up, speed whipping the hair around my face. My intention is to reach the rim and come back down, except I don’t. I’m airborne instead. My insides lurch with adrenaline as I leave solid ground behind. I literally fly for a single, exhilarating moment that I’ll never forget. It’s an incredible rush, but I come down hard and my board goes one way while I go the other.

  Now I’m splayed out on the cement, staring up at the dusky afternoon sky, trying to breathe because my body is broken in a million pieces.

  “Mac!” Jake yells. I turn my head. He’s running toward me, skateboard tucked under his arm and panic turning his eyes wide. His golden brown hair is mussed and cheeks tinged pink from the heat of the afternoon. Jake Romero is beautiful. How did I not see that before?

  “I was awesome, wasn’t I?” I croak when he gets close. “At least tell me that before I die.”

  Jake tosses his skateboard away and skids to his knees by my side, a hysterical sound of mirth leaving his lips. Rich, brown eyes scan me hurriedly. Hands reach out to prod down my limbs. “You’re not going to die, Princess.”

  “I think I’ve proved I’m no princess,” I rasp.

  His gaze shoots to mine, his chest rising and falling with panicked breaths. He slows it with visible effort. “I think …”

  “You think?” I prompt when he trails off.

  Jake’s lips press together and something equalling affection softens his features. The gold flecks in his eyes come to life, just how I knew they would. He sits back on his heels and stares as though he’s realised something monumental. “I think you’ll always be my princess.”

  I suck in a sharp breath. Jake is infiltrating my heart in some kind of sneaky ninja attack. Is this a crush? Because it feels crappy and wonderful, and I don’t like it one bit.

  “What?” he asks.

  I shift my arm and screaming pain shoots up the limb. I cry out. “It hurts.”

  He looks me over again. “Where?”

  “My arm,” I gasp. “The right one.” I tip my head up, and we both look at it. The joint of my wrist is sitting at the wrong angle. Just looking at it has me breaking out in a sweat.

  “Oh shit,” Jake mutters.

  “I’m broken,” I whisper pathetically, my head hitting the pavement as it drops back down. I always considered myself a little invincible, but this has proved me otherwise.

  “You are.” Jake reaches behind and tugs a phone from the back pocket of his shorts. He flips the screen and dials.

  “You have a phone?” I’m fourteen and still don’t have one. My
parents are fools that need to get with the times. “Who are you calling? God, not my mother. Please. She’ll kill me. Ring Mitch.”

  Jake puts the phone to his ear with an expression of disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? After the whole ‘bring her back in one piece’ comment? I’m so dead.”

  “You can’t tell my parents, Romero.”

  “They’re going to notice a broken arm,” he points out.

  “They won’t! I promise. I’ll hide it under long shirts and hoodies.”

  Jake’s eyes widen like I’ve lost my mind. “In the middle of a summer heatwave?”

  He ignores my protests and calls for an ambulance, even holding me down when I try rising to grab at the phone.

  With it on the way, Jake tucks his phone away and clears his throat. “So … On a scale of one to ten, just how dead am I for breaking the Valentines’ only daughter?”

  “For me, I’d probably say an eleven, but for you my parents will probably go easy.”

  His eyes harden. “I don’t need anyone going easy on me, Mac. I can hold my own.”

  “I’m sure you can,” I snap, the pain making me extra snarly, “but after everything that’s happened, they’re hardly going to be assholes.”

  He stills. “Everything that’s happened?”

  “With your … your …” Shit, I’m not supposed to know.

  “You know,” Jake says flatly.

  “No I don’t.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “No I—”

  “Did your Mum tell you? Because she’s supposed to be like my lawyer or something and keep my business private.”

  I snort. “Mum’s hardly a lawyer!”

  “I never said she was. I said like a lawyer,” he snaps.

  “Jared overheard—”

  “Whatever, Mac.”

  “Dammit, Jake. I’m trying to explain here.” I shift and hiss. Despite our argument, his hand closes around mine and squeezes. The small contact is comforting. “You know, I wrote you a letter after you left.”

  “Funny.” Jake cocks his head. “I didn’t get it.”