Fractured Minds (Rebels of Sandland Book 3)

by Nikki J Summers

  “Lord of the Rings? Why do you have this? I don’t think I’ve even read this book.”

  She shuffled where she sat and then bit her lip, smiling.

  “That book reminds me of the first time I saw you.”

  I was still none the wiser.

  “I think you’re gonna need to spell this one out for me.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I was in the library, at school. It was lunchtime, I was revising for a French test, and all of a sudden, I heard the librarian roaring across the room, and when I looked up, you were sat on the other side of the library looking at her like she’d gone crazy. She was bawling you out for defacing school property, throwing her arms around and everything, and you just sat there and didn’t react, didn’t even argue back. I watched her grab this book off you and all you did was stand up and walk out without looking back. I couldn’t work you out, and I realised that day that I wanted to, more than anything. You drew me in. See what I did there? Drew me in.” She laughed at her own joke, and even though it wasn’t funny, I laughed too.

  When I opened the book all the memories came flooding back. Inside the front cover, I’d sketched out a plan for a piece of graffiti art I’d been working on back then. Some cartoon guy smoking a joint that I thought looked cool and edgy at the time. Now, it was dated and amateurish.

  “She put the book on the desk,” Effy continued. “And then she stormed off. So I went over and took it.”

  “You stole it.” I gave her an evil grin.

  “I guess I did, but I knew she’d throw it away and I didn’t want her to do that. Your art should never be hidden, and neither should you.”

  I held her eyes with mine and my breath started to come in short sharp gasps as my heart beat an unsteady rhythm against my chest. I glanced back down at the box to hide my nervousness and pointed to a stack of envelopes tied together with grey silk ribbon. It was an avoidance technique but it worked.

  “What are those?”

  “Oh fuck.” She sighed as she took them out and clasped them close to her chest. “I forgot those were in there.”

  “You can’t not tell me now,” I urged, giving her my wide-eyed stare.

  “But it’s embarrassing.” She could barely look me in the eye, but this time, I found it cute.

  “Can’t be any more embarrassing than this,” I said, holding up the book with my God-awful cartoon stoner drawn in it.

  “Fine. These are Valentine’s cards.”

  “From who?” The way my stomach twisted made me grit my teeth to prepare myself for the worst. I didn’t like the thought of her keeping cards from other guys.

  “From me.” She frowned. “I didn’t have the courage to send them, but every year, I bought you a Valentine’s card and put it in here.”

  Fuck.

  I was gone.

  “There’s quite a lot of cards tied up there.”

  “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

  My heart was about to burst for her. My head was gone. And I didn’t care that her parents were sitting downstairs. Without saying a word, I took the cards out of her hand. She looked scared, like she didn’t want me to read them, but that wasn’t my intention. Maybe another day––when she felt comfortable about it––I’d open them, but for now, I had to get as close to her as I possibly could.

  I placed the bundle of envelopes back into the box and moved it onto the floor. Then I shuffled closer to her and held her face in my hands, stroking my thumbs along the softness of her cheeks. If I didn’t know it before, I did now. This girl fucking owned me.

  She went to speak, but I put my lips over hers and kissed her. I kissed her to show her that I loved her. I loved everything about her. I always had. The way she treasured every little thing about me. The way she made me feel like I was worth something. The way she only ever saw the good.

  I tilted my head and kissed away any doubts she might’ve had in the past. My lips stroked against hers to tell her that she was my everything. I slid my tongue forward to taste her and lose myself in her. The way her tongue teased with mine made the blood rush to my head, and I felt myself stiffen in my jeans. I was so turned on and I wanted her so badly, but I couldn’t do anything about it today. With her parents right below us, I had to rein it in. But it was tough.

  I pushed her back, so that she lay on her bed, and I crawled over her, kissing her lips and then moving to her neck. The sounds she made, gasping and moaning, spurred me on, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips into her, showing her what she did to me.

  We lay together, kissing and holding each other. My hands desperately wanted to explore, to touch her in a way she’d never been touched before, and I could tell she felt the same. Her hands threaded through my hair, caressed my cheek and then she moved to snake them around my waist and down to my ass. I smiled as I felt her pulling me towards her, grabbing my ass and lifting her leg so she could feel me where she needed me. My hands drifted down her body, gently lifting the bottom of her T-shirt and touching the velvet softness of her stomach. I was just about to pull the button of her jeans open when there was a knock at the door and we both shot apart.

  Effy tried to wipe any evidence of our kiss from her face and started to frantically straighten out her clothing as she stood up from the bed. I sat forward and adjusted myself in my jeans. She took a quick look back at me, making sure I looked decent, before she flung the door open.

  “What’s up?” she said, sounding breathless and way too guilty.

  “I was just about to start dinner. I wanted to know if Finn was stopping? There’s plenty to go round.” Her mum grinned and glanced over Effy’s shoulder at me. From the sparkle in her eyes, I guessed she knew what we were up to, but if she did, she didn’t say anything.

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Effy turned and asked me.

  “I would normally say yes, and it’s really kind of you to offer, Mrs Spencer,”

  “It’s Jen. Mrs Spencer is Effy’s Grandma.” She laughed. “It’s homemade lasagne tonight. What do you say?”

  Right on cue, my stomach growled, but I couldn’t stay. We’d made headway, but I felt like I’d taken enough steps forward. Now, I just wanted to go back to Zak’s and think about what came next. To be honest, I wanted to be with Effy, without her parents being there, but some alone time would have to do.

  “I can’t. I have to get going.” Effy didn’t look as disappointed as she usually did when I told her I was leaving. I was proud of myself for taking that apprehension away from her.

  I stood up to go, now that I’d calmed down and wouldn’t embarrass myself, and Effy’s mum walked ahead and down the stairs.

  “Maybe another time then?” She looked back over her shoulder and smiled at us.

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  I walked down the stairs next to Effy, and when we got to the front door, her mum disappeared off down the hallway. I lifted Effy’s chin with my thumb and forefinger and kissed her again. I didn’t care if her mum and dad came back out and saw us. I wanted them to know I loved her.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said with a cocky grin.

  “I’ll look forward to it,” she replied, lifting up on her tiptoes to give me one last kiss.

  I would say I walked away from Effy’s house and back down the street, but I’d be lying. I fucking floated out of there, riding a bigger high than any art had ever given me. This feeling was better than any drug. Sweeter than any taste I’d ever known. I was high on Effy Spencer.

  I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and I smirked to myself. I really hoped it was a cute message, or better yet, a photograph.

  But today was not my day. Once again, fate slapped me around the face and reminded me to wake the fuck up. Real life wasn’t all hearts and flowers.

  Welcome to level two of the game of consequences.

  Your next challenge is to organise an event in Brinton Manor with the rest of your little crew.

  Send us a copy of the invite a
nd we’ll send you a reward. Fail, and you’ll never want to show your face in Sandland ever again.

  Time is ticking. You have until midnight on Saturday.

  This was fucking bullshit. As far as I knew, they might not even have my uncle anymore. He could’ve escaped. He had the luck of the devil in him, so nothing would surprise me there. Not to mention, I was getting really fucked off with them thinking they had me at their beck and call. There was no way I could talk the others into an event in Brinton Manor, they wouldn’t even throw a tennis ball there, let alone a party. What made these soldiers think I held any power over what we did?

  I thought about firing off a quick message to let them know that I wasn’t a total loser, but what would I say? No, I won’t play your stupid games? Let my uncle go and I’ll dole out my own justice? They didn’t have a heart. They’d take him out and then drag me down too, just so they could revel in my torment, and I wouldn’t ever let that happen. They knew everything, and that was their ace card. I was holding a fist full of jokers with no way out. I couldn’t take the risk. I had to at least try and make this happen.

  “I was glad when you called us all to ask us what we were up to today, Finn.” Ryan sat opposite me in Zak’s living room and glanced at each one of us as he spoke. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you all about.”

  Brandon was sprawled in his armchair of choice, sipping his tea and scrolling through his phone.

  “You’re getting a hair transplant and you want our opinion,” Brandon joked without looking up. “I say go for it. Time isn’t on your side and the shine from that forehead of yours is making it difficult for me to see my screen.” He shook his phone and then threw his head back, laughing at himself.

  “Fuck you,” Ryan threw back, but he smirked. He loved the banter. “No, I’ve been thinking about asking Emily to marry me. Thought I’d let you guys know first.”

  “What, you don’t have her father to ask permission, so you’re coming to us? That’s sweet, dude. We love you too,” Brandon teased.

  “Like I’d need permission. She’s mine, I just want to make it official.”

  Brandon finally stopped scrolling and put his phone down. Then he leant forward with a serious expression on his face, like he was about to argue the pros and cons.

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing, but Harper wants to wait until after the babies are born.”

  “I don’t think it works that way,” Zak huffed on a laugh, sounding like he was taking the piss out of Brandon’s comment.

  “What would you know?” Brandon frowned back at him. “You’re the expert at sealing the deal in the bedroom, not the fucking church.” Brandon was seriously irritated and he wasn’t afraid to hide it.

  “You’d have a church wedding?” I asked, trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the room, but still shocked that he’d want a traditional ceremony. I knew him better than anyone, and I’d always had him down as a ‘run off and get married with the minimum number of witnesses so he could fast forward to the honeymoon’ kind of guy. He smirked back at me, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

  “That’s what Harper wants. And what she wants, she gets.”

  “Yeah, and she’s a chick. Chicks like to be surprised. Don’t wait until after the babies come. Surprise her now. That’s what she really wants.” Zak did have a point.

  Brandon rubbed his chin in thought and nodded to himself.

  “Maybe you’re right…”

  “Of course he’s right,” Ryan shot back, rolling his eyes. “Now, can we get back to me? I’m the one with the engagement ring in my pocket.”

  “Well, show us it then,” Zak demanded.

  Ryan reached into his jeans and pulled out a little black velvet box. When he opened it, we all gathered round to look at the diamond ring inside. It looked pretty impressive, but I was no expert.

  “She’ll love that, Ry,” I said.

  “Just think of all the car parts you could’ve bought for the price of that thing,” Zak joked.

  “Since when did we turn into a bunch of pussies who talk about weddings and look at rings?” Brandon stated, ever the realist.

  Ryan snapped the box closed and smiled to himself.

  “You’ll be the same when you get Harper’s ring.”

  “I’ve already got it,” he replied in a deadpan manner.

  “Can we see?” Zak was really getting into the spirit of this conversation, considering he was a sworn bachelor for life.

  “No. It’s in my bedside drawer at home.”

  “No, it’s not.” Zak chuckled. “She’s probably trying it on right now and sending photos of it to her mates.”

  “Fuck off.” Brandon grimaced and sat back in his chair, then a panicked expression came over his face, and I could tell he believed what Zak had said.

  “So, where are you going to propose?” I asked Ryan, to take Brandon’s mind off the fact that his secret hiding place probably wasn’t so secret.

  “The asylum chapel. Which brings me to my next point. I saw an ad yesterday. The asylum is going up for auction at the end of the month.”

  “And?” Brandon asked, gritting his teeth and looking slightly pissed off.

  “And I thought, maybe, if we got some financial backing, we could buy it. Together. No more scouting for events. It could be ours. Permanently.” Ryan shrugged. “Party central.”

  “Where are we supposed to get the money to buy a place like that?” Brandon was going to take a lot more convincing.

  “You could hit up Daddy Lockwood for it?” Zak was pushing his luck with that comment and he knew it.

  “Yeah right. You know, if I had a gun with two bullets and I was stuck in a room with Hitler, Bin Laden, and him, I’d shoot him twice.” Brandon huffed, folding his arms over his chest, and then he went back to scrolling through his phone.

  “Emily has money from her dad,” Ryan carried on, ignoring the obstacles being thrown his way. “She’s already offered to go in. Would Harper be interested? Or her parents?”

  “I wouldn’t ask them for an opinion, let alone a loan,” Brandon shot back without sparing a single glance at any one of us.

  “Harper would though, especially if it meant we could expand the business.” Ryan turned to face me. “What about Effy? Her parents aren’t short of a few bob.” He was starting to sound desperate.

  “I would never ask her. If you want the Spencers to invest, that’s your call, not mine. Couldn’t we put on a few extra events to make money ourselves for the deposit?” I decided to steer the conversation my way for once.

  “That’s a good idea.” Brandon’s attention was caught again. “I’m not fighting though. I’ve got bookings for my workshops for the next few months. Anyway, it’d stress Harper out and I wouldn’t want to put her through that at the moment.”

  “You don’t have to fight. We could put on a fight but it wouldn’t have to be you. We have enough contacts to make it happen. That’s a good idea, Finn. Let’s do it.” Ryan was buzzing, I could tell.

  “I have an idea for a venue too.” Now I’d reached my next hurdle, and it was a hell of a lot bigger than the last one.

  “Oh yeah? Where?” Brandon leant forward in anticipation.

  “The old Clarkson’s Plastics factory.” I held my breath, waiting for the penny to drop.

  “Wait, what? The one over in Brinton? Why the fuck would we want to use that? It’s a shithole and the soldiers would bomb the place with us still in it if we stepped on their manor.” Ryan had made up his mind, but Zak stayed quiet and Brandon stared at me, trying to suss me out.

  “Why do you want us to go to Brinton, mate?” Brandon could tell there was more to this than I was letting on.

  “Alice lives there now. And I figured there were buildings there that we hadn’t really looked at before. Maybe it’s a goldmine we’ve over-looked?” I shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “Alice barely leaves the house. She’s never attended one of our parties and we�
�ve been doing them for years. What’s the deal here?” Brandon was like a dog with a bone when he thought he was onto something.

  “No deal. I just thought it’d be cool.” I couldn’t look him in the eye though. He’d call bullshit within seconds if I did.

  “Cool? Bloody suicide more like.” He scowled back at me as Zak and Ryan watched us like they were at the Wimbledon final.

  I stayed quiet and Brandon huffed out his annoyance.

  “Come on then. Talk us round. You’re supposed to argue with me, not give in the first chance you get.” Brandon was always trying to push me out of my comfort zone, and this was no different.

  “All right, fine. You never listen to me. You always make all the decisions and expect me to go along with it. I’m stuck on the outside most of the time, and just this once, I want to have a say.”

  “That’s more like it.” He spurred me on. “What else? Don’t hold back on us.”

  “I think we need to think bigger than Sandland. If you want to make this a viable business, then we have to expand our network.” Ryan nodded when I said that. He always saw the bigger picture.

  “And the soldiers?” Brandon piped up.

  “They won’t be a problem.”

  For you, anyway.

  “And you know this how?” He wasn’t giving up.

  “Because I’ve spoken to them. They’re cool.” Brandon flinched like I’d slapped him around the face.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? They aren’t cool. They are as far from cool as humanly possible.” He was offended by what I’d said. He didn’t like that I’d spoken to them and he didn’t know about it.

  “When did you see them? What’s going on Finn?” Ryan spoke calmly. He knew one angry interrogator was enough for today.

  “I went to visit Alice and I saw them in the street.” All the truth, now to thread in the lies that I was so awful at telling. “They said they’d heard about our events and asked why we’d never put one on in Brinton.”