Sicko(41)

Before I can stop myself, I’m running. The wind is whipping through my hair, drying the tears that keep falling down my cheeks. My life is fucked. I’m ruined. I wish I could go back to all those years ago and stop him from leaving. I wish he cared enough to not have left me in the first place. Pain tightens its steel fist around the organs of my heart and squeezes.

“Jade!” I hear someone yell out behind me, but it’s too late, I need out. I need to be away from everything and everyone. I need silence and a cliff with the bluest water beneath. I want to watch the moody waves crash against dark rocks so my soul knows it’s not alone.

An arm wraps around my waist and I’m being lifted off the ground. I kick backward, annoyed with the tears. The pain. The weakness. “Let me go!”

“Jade!” he yells again, only this time his voice sounds too familiar. Like bile rising up my throat, his name rings in my head. James.

I freeze in his arms, dropping to my knees. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

I don’t want to be punished. I’m tired. I thought he was Royce. He sounded like Royce. My head is bowed as dark boots come into view. I can faintly hear another bike, but I dismiss it.

Those are boots, not loafers. Before I can stand, Royce is meeting me face-to-face, his eyes searching mine. “What are you doing, Duchess?”

I gulp past the rock that’s in my throat. He can never know. “I—” Searching his eyes, the blue depth of them is enough to remind me of the waves I so desperately yearned for just moments ago, his pupils the color of the rocks that they would crash against. “Why didn’t you take me?”

Royce pales, all blood draining from his cheeks. “What?”

Don’t repeat yourself. You’re going to regret it. He doesn’t care about you anymore; he has made that much clear. “Why did you leave me there?”

After a beat of silence, he snorts. “You being there was better for you than you being with me. Trust me.” He stands, pulling me up with him. Before I can protest, he’s directing us back toward the party, signaling to whoever it was that followed him on his bike.

“But that’s just it,” I murmur, while refusing to pull out of his grip. It feels too good. Like the empty part of my soul has recognized the piece it has been missing for four years. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Listen,” Royce says just as we reach the edge of the driveway. He turns around, his hand on my throat, and backs me up against a brick wall. Pressing a leg between mine to pin me there, he tilts his head and studies me. “One, I don’t give a flying fuck about your trust. All I want is to have you stay the fuck out of trouble and keep your head down. Two? Stop making this about something other than what it is. You are my sister, one I didn’t fucking ask for, but I protect anyway. I don’t give a fuck who you fuck in your free time, where you stay, or…” He pauses, licks his bottom lip and then catches it with his teeth. His grip around my throat tightens. “Or how fucking good my hand looks around your throat. Now swing those fucking legs over my bike.”

He pushes me back and my hand comes to where his was, massaging it softly. I can feel the pieces of myself slowly fading away. James took all that I had and replaced it with hurt and pain, and the one person I leaned on for most of my life hates me now.

“I can find my own ride.” I shove past him and make my way down the driveway. The bikes are rumbling in the background while the men on them all watch us with careful but eager eyes. As if they’re fascinated by what they see. The party is mostly inside and out the back, but there are a few people on the patio, including Nellie, Ollie, and Sloane. No Jensen in sight. Thank god.

“Duchess!” Royce snaps, and it roots my feet to the ground. “On my bike. Right the fuck now.” The air shifts around me and anger slowly boils to the surface. I don’t want to make a scene. I never like making one, but he’s pissed me off more times than I can count tonight and yeah, my emotions may have been bruised a few minutes ago, enough to not answer him back, but now I’m angry.

I spin around and take the four steps to where he towers over me. I swing my arm back, fist my hand tightly, and punch him right in the jaw. He barely moves, but whatever.

“Fuck you, Royce!” I scream into his face on my tippy toes—and I still don’t reach his neck— “Fuck you for leaving me and then coming back and thinking you can tell me what to do like I’m some little puppy that you keep on a leash. You!” I point my finger into his face, which is the exact moment I realize I fucked up.

He snatches my finger in the palm of his hand while his other flies to my throat again and I’m falling backward, my head smacking against the grass. I see double for a few seconds while Royce has a firm grip on me everywhere. “Still a fucking brat, huh?” He leans down until the tip of his nose touches my earlobe and only I can hear what he says. “I’m going to say this one time, Dutch. You’re legal now. I’d watch that fucking tone.” Pushing off me, he stands to his feet, glaring down at me. “The only thing you’re riding tonight that isn’t me, is my bike. Now get the fuck on, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll take you back to your dorm tomorrow.” It’s as though he whacked the alcohol out of me. Defeat latches its ugly grip around my bones, as my eyes stay locked on the sky.

“I’m not staying at your clubhouse, Roy.”