by Jamie Magee
Knowing him, or even Nolan, was never outright mentioned. Which made her feel equally comfortable and uncomfortable.
Justice wanted to look forward to the Rally, to Declan coming home for the few days he would be there but as it approached, as Missy took full advantage of her personal assistant and had Justice running all over town picking up food and supplies, Justice’s gut grew even more twisted.
She decided she was mad at Declan. And he was an ass. She was just fine before he decided to make her life by writing her. Then what did he do? He gave her hope and snatched it away just like Declan Rawlings had always done.
“Bell said she wasn’t sure you were going to make it to the Rally, what’s that business about?” Missy asked, putting the daily lunch order down in front of Justice.
Missy was the complete opposite of her husband. Missy barely reached Justice’s shoulder, petite in every way. Her brunette hair was ashen with age but beyond the tint, and well-worn laugh lines, she was as fit as she could be.
Her size was never to be taken into account when it came to her authority, every one of the Rawlings men thought twice before they argued with her and if they did fight, they lost, crumbling under her cold shoulder— begging for forgiveness.
Justice had told her grandmother she was dreading the Rally. Being mad at Declan was easier when she didn’t have to see him. It made it hurt less and kept her focused on who she wanted to become. After a back and forth discussion about how there was a difference between hiding and taking a mature high road, Bell said she would see what she could do to make it less awkward.
This was not less awkward.
This made Justice feel like she was ten and her grandmother had just RSVP’d with a thanks but no thanks—to her boss of all people. To the grandmother of the one freaking boy she could not get over.
“With school starting I just have a lot to do, senior pictures and all.”
Missy lifted one brow then pursed her lips in clear doubt. She nodded in the direction of her garage. “Which one of those boys out there upset you? Go on now and tell me. I’ll get ‘em right.”
Justice grinned and shook her head as she stood and grabbed the lunch order. “I’m sure we will stop by. I just wanted to be as productive as I could with the extra day off.”
The garage was going to be closed as if it was a holiday, and to the Rawlings’ it was. They closed it for everything major in their family—like graduations from Marine boot camp...that Justice did not attend because she was not invited.
At this point, if she did show up at the Rally, it would be to tell Nolan she was sorry she didn’t mail his letters and to help him take the blame for them not having a heads up that he was out on the lam.
That was another thing that was odd about the Rawlings. Not a one of them had said one thing about not getting any communication from Nolan while he was ‘supposed’ to be with Declan. And none of them said a word when they knew he didn’t graduate and earn the title ‘Marine.’
She knew because she felt the stress for Nolan and waited to overhear the uproar, but it never came. She’d called, she’d texted—nothing. All she could assume was he was off the grid as he clearly said he would be. Still, it was one of the many things that kept her up at night. She came close, so close, to saying something to Missy, but every time their conversations looked like were turning toward Nolan or Declan, Missy graciously ended the conversation one stroke before Justice’s nerve kicked in.
Since everyone had returned from watching Declan graduate, she had kept her headphones in unless she had to have them out to do her job. She didn’t want to overhear any details, didn’t want to know exactly when Declan was coming into town and for how long. It was better to not know, because she already looked up a bit too expectantly each time the office doors swung open.
Keeping to her steadfast plan she stuck her headphones in and clutched the lunch list, then made her way out.
Forty minutes later she pulled back up to the garage. Usually, the sight of her with food would have her surrounded with more than a few helpful, hungry hands, but now all the bays were closed.
She loaded her arms up with food, managing to spill most of one drink down her top, which actually felt a little nice. The AC in her car was a joke, so her blond curls were weighted down with sweat, matching the sheen across her flesh.
Right as she approached the office door, it swung open and bellowing laughter was heard. Justice looked up just in time to see Declan’s arm encircle a girl Justice had seen around but didn’t know. She was older, as old as Declan if not older, and beautiful. Long raven hair, sporting a low cut shirt showing her well-endowed chest, short shorts, and tan legs for days.
Declan’s smile faded as his gaze rushed over Justice. He and his girl weren’t alone; a few of Declan’s cousins where piling out behind him, so were some of the staff that smelled food. Atticus, who had become a good friend of Justice’s, was there, too.
In seconds Justice’s hands were empty. Her now stained wet shirt was visible, making her feel like a child. More than one tease had been made about wet t-shirt contests were tossed between the guys. The teasing was normal—if you hung out with a Rawlings you better have thick skin. They’d speak any truth, and liked to laugh.
Feeling the heat in her cheeks, she nodded once at Declan. He seemed bigger to her. Thicker for sure, and she wasn’t so sure she was in love with the very short cut he had, high and tight. It made his sharp jawline and rigid gray stare all the harder to deal with.
She could feel this pulsing sensation between them, one that made him seem larger than life, but it was awkward, too awkward.
“Welcome home,” she said as calmly as she could, then pushed inside.
It took her a second, but she found Missy and told her she was leaving. She’d grinned and said, “Figured you would be,” without looking up.
Justice was in Bell’s car and down the block and had somehow managed to live through all of those emotions and awkwardness, including hunting down Missy, in less than five minutes.
The whole way home she told herself not to puke, not to cry. She’d done enough of both through the summer and now it was time to be a big girl. Put things that held her back behind her.
Fuck him.
***
Rachel Leal, now Rachel Rawlings, reached up and kissed Declan on the cheek. “It’s crazy how different you seem,” she said with a sweet smile as she hugged him against her once more, laughing against his cheek as she squeezed his shoulders. “Hard as a rock.”
Declan’s eyes glinted with pride when he heard her words, just as they had all day long with everyone he’d passed.
Rachel let him go and walked toward her husband’s truck, Mark Rawlings, Declan’s cousin, who was also home for the Rally. Seconds later, Justice charged outside and got back in her Honda and left without a backward glance.
Most around Declan kept up the conversation, the ‘welcome homes’ and ‘you look good’ right along with all the taunts, but Atticus wasn’t smiling. From across the parking lot Declan could see Boon wasn’t either.
Declan said a few, “I’ll catch you laters,” then walked back inside to see what his grandmother could have said or done to upset Justice.
Missy looked up at him with a sweet smile, one she always saved for her serious Declan. “I told her to go.”
“Why?”
Missy pulled off her glasses and sighed, looking over her grandson. The one she always knew would be the hardest to love because he was so much like his grandfather—and had no idea how to say what he felt. The world was black and white and color was a risk, a threat, and a dare. Yet, a rose had stolen Declan’s heart when he was just a boy climbing trees. “Because I don’t give a damn what Monty Souter says or does. He’s an ass and Justice is not his or his son’s.”
She’s not mine either, Declan thought bitterly.
That girl had put him through hell. First she jerks with his head, makes him feel shit. Then she doesn’t write. Then
she floods him. Then she got him in a world of hell. And to top it all off she looked at him like he was a stranger just before.
Fine.
“Go on now. She’s already trying to get out of the Rally.”
“She’s what?” It was one thing to think something, to prepare yourself for the worst so the blow wasn’t so bad when you finally heard it, but to know for sure you were forgotten, dropped like a bad habit—it scorched Declan.
“Where is she?” Missy asked, as she stood finally getting that Declan wasn’t the reason Justice left early, at least he wasn’t the reason Missy assumed—that he’d asked her out.
Declan shrugged and went to walk away.
“Boy.”
He paused and turned.
“You need to get your head right. Fragile ground.” Missy crossed her arms. “Tested souls need a strong embrace.” She lifted her brow. “A soft landing. Cuts both ways with the pair of you.”
“Wrong time,” Declan said with a stiff nod before he turned and left.
He had been calling Nolan non-stop for days and hadn’t gotten a response. He expected him to be home before him because that was the plan but he wasn’t, and everyone was looking at Declan like they were waiting for the big unveiling of a lie. A truth they already knew anyway.
Clearly Nolan was not with him. Needless to say it had already made his graduation odd, and uncomfortable. It made him feel even more detached from the life he left behind.
Now, after asking all of Nolan’s closest adventure buddies—the ones he was set to leave with in a week’s time, where he was and getting an ‘I thought you knew’ or a ‘haven’t seen him,’ Declan had no choice but to drive to his father’s bar and tell him face-to-face what he knew.
This deal of Nolan’s had always made Declan uneasy. When he watched him drive away months ago he felt a pain cut right through him—an impossible urge to call him, tell him to wait, they’d figure it out together. He didn’t though, because at the moment he wasn’t sure if he was regretting the path he chose because of his brother, or Justice...his head could not have been more twisted as he turned and walked inside, forever changing his life.
Declan had only been in Bradyville for just under two hours; he didn’t go to his family at first. He hit up the buddies of Nolan’s he could not get to answer the phone—their family. Nothing. It was like he vanished off the face of the earth, only Declan was the only one that knew he had.
Since Declan’s first night at boot camp he’d had nightmares about Nolan, ones where Declan couldn’t reach him no matter how hard he tried. Declan would raise up, covered in sweat then drift back down, his mind going back to the last thought he had before he closed his eyes—Justice. And then he’d dream of her. His first week at camp, before he knew for sure something was wrong, he’d felt it.
Knowing he had some kind of bond with her now. Even having her out of his sight, silent, didn’t stop it. Which only infuriated Declan.
Women leave.
Women are not happy or faithful when their man is out fighting. And when their men do come home—they leave. It was a mantra, a truth, he’d had since he saw his mother leave without even the slightest hesitation, one he never thought he’d find himself questioning, especially as young as he was.
Justice made him question everything.
He didn’t have time to question anything. His thoughts should be headstrong on his brother—where the hell he might be, but no. One glimpse of her and she had hurt him just as deeply as the uncertainty he felt mounting on his shoulders.
For all Declan knew, Justice had already ended what was going on between them. He saw her letters but never had the chance to read them. It was not a good day or week when they arrived. Declan was sure they’d be issued to him with the rest of his effects when he moved bases in a few days—his lesson had been learned. Justice belonged with Murdock.
“Guess Murdock will keep her tucked away till I leave again,” Declan said glaring down the road. Every word sliced into his gut and riled his wrath for that SOB, but you’d never know it by looking at his cool exterior.
“What the fuck did the Core do to your head?” Atticus asked leaning against Nolan’s truck, the one Declan had no choice but to drive. “There ain’t nothin’ there. She’s with us more than him.”
“Got somethin’ to say ‘bout that?” Boon asked, clearly looking for a fight. Him and Atticus had just about figured out how to read Justice. Atticus was better at it, but he made sure Boon was in the know. They saw her shatter as she ran from the lot. It was tempting to follow her, but setting Declan right would get them further, or so Atticus claimed as he told Boon to stand right there with him as they watched Declan’s glory parade end and him make his way to the truck.
“Do you?” Declan said eyeing his youngest brother.
“Yeah I do, you dick. You didn’t say a word to her. Just stared like she was in your way.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she is.” Fact!
“Fuck you,” Boon roared. “She belongs here with us, if you don’t like it go on then.”
“Awful attached,” Declan seethed, shifting his weight, prepared to teach Boon a lesson.
“And you’re too fucking detached,” Boon said as Atticus pushed him toward the garage and hollered out for Nash to get him inside.
Declan knew leaving now was best; he had shit to do and didn’t care to argue with anyone about his personal shit, especially his grandfather. Sooner or later Missy would send him after Declan. Boon’s outburst he was not explaining to Nash in his own clipped way would not help matters when the come to Jesus talk landed in Declan’s lap.
When the boys were really little, and Chasen was in the Corps, Nash was the stone cold father figure they had, the one they spent almost all their time with as soon as they could walk.
And he’d always had Declan’s number.
“You should’ve saw her first,” Atticus said strolling around to the passenger seat. His distance silently underlined his rage.
Atticus didn’t understand. And he wouldn’t until he walked Declan’s path. There was no sense in hurting himself or Justice any more than Declan had. Not now.
“Why do you have to be an ass? You have no idea what I saw,” Atticus said, when Declan slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door and glared into nothing.
Declan didn’t. He’d read it when Atticus wrote him about it and unfortunately Declan had a vivid imagination.
“Two-way street, bro,” Declan said with a hiss. Declan had a hard time believing it took someone reminding Justice he was writing her for her to find his letters.
Declan got she was going through some stuff, but two months? And he didn’t cross her mind at all? Why was that? He had to wonder who was in her head, and why’d she let them in there. Declan had a few ideas, a few dark ones. Ones that made him downright murderous.
Reading Declan, Atticus said, “She didn’t know, Declan. You should have seen her face. She was one girl when I drove her to the post and another when she came out.” He glared him down. “Ever since then a bit more of that happiness chips away each day. She’s been a nervous wreck for days.”
Declan glanced harshly away, hearing the echoes of his drill sergeant in his mind. “You think this girl gives a fuck about you? You think Jody is not fucking her right now? You’re a toy, a pet. You’re her bitch.” As Declan pushed through endless pushups the sergeant got down in his face. “Is she worth jail, boy? Is it that sweet? I swear to you it sure as fuck is not that tight anymore!”
Yeah, Declan learned self-restraint the hard way. And when he yelled, “Sir, yes, sir,” his day only got worse.
It was a letter from his dad that kicked his attitude to the curb; words that gave Declan reason to just shut it. He’d said in effect, ‘Right girl, wrong time. The time will get here, no sense in suffering until it does. Man up, don’t let them win, son. If something truly belongs to you, no one can steal it—not even time.’
“Keep looking out for her, then,�
�� Declan said as he roared Nolan’s truck to life. “We gotta find Nolan.”
Declan not only needed to know Nolan was all right, he needed Nolan to help him think straight about this business with Justice.
Justice might have let Atticus close to her, but she didn’t talk to him, not really—same with Boon. Justice would talk to Nolan, he’d be able to help her through all that went down over the summer, he’d be able to help her understand Declan was an asshole, but if she’d just give him a minute...
Declan shook his head and pressed the gas pedal down.
“Not one letter?” Declan asked Atticus for the hundredth time on the way to their dad’s bar.
He shook his head. “Haven’t heard a word from Nolan.”
“You sure there was nothing else? That Dad just ain’t sayin’?” Their father, their entire family, was notorious for always knowing more than they said. They’d make you confess your own sins, and they’d never run their mouth about anyone’s business. So if his dad or grandparents were having it out with Nolan, there was a good chance the other boys wouldn’t know.
Atticus shrugged. “I heard ‘em months back saying they thought Nolan had enough sense to at least call by then since you’d been sending letters. He hadn’t.”
Declan cursed and slammed his hand against the steering wheel of Nolan’s truck.
And as he did the visor popped down. The envelope with Nolan’s passport fell in his lap. Declan cursed and flung it in between him and Atticus. “He’s still in the states, or in jail for being a stupid fuck and using his fake IDs.”
Atticus lifted a remorseful brow.
Every day for weeks Nolan and Justice stayed in a constant loop in Declan’s head. They made him feel out of control and he hated it.
Nolan wasn’t home like he should be, and Justice...Declan didn’t even know what to think. He saw the pain in her eyes, the scars from her war. He saw the blush he missed, the shuddering breath. And the wind made sure he smelled her classic scent of strawberries and champagne, but beyond that he just didn’t know—had no clue why every sense he had told him she was in trouble, that Nolan was.