When Shadows Fracture (Cherry Creek Book 2)

by Callie Rae

  He continues caressing my leg as he thinks about his response. After a moment, he clears his throat, “Yeah, I have.”

  I lean forward and turn to face him, “And?”

  “Remember when you told me I could turn the opportunity with my dad into something good?”

  “Yes?” I ask hoping for good news.

  “Well, I think you’re right,” he says. He hasn’t looked at me yet. His eyes are trained on the water behind me and glazed over. He’s caught between two worlds right now, but his grip is holding onto my thigh, keeping him leveled.

  “But?” I ask. It’s pretty clear to me that he’s not finished. There is something else he wants to say.

  He laughs and he finally looks at me, “How do you know me better than I know myself?”

  “The same way you know me. We are a part of each other. Now stop trying to change the subject. Tell me what you’ve decided.”

  “Okay, okay. I think you’re right, but I just don’t think it’s for me. I’ve had a few scouts express interest. Coach thinks I have a good shot at going pro. I kind of want to see what happens.”

  I look into his eyes and search his heart. If this is what he truly wants, then I’ll support him. Always. “And your dad?”

  He sighs. “I’m going to tell him.”

  “You know he won’t accept it that easily. You’re going to have to fight for it,” I say as I reach for his face and place my palm across his cheek. “Are you ready for it?”

  He meets my eyes with determination. “With you at my side? I’m ready for anything.”

  My neck hurts. Hell, my whole body hurts. And I’m hungry. Thankfully I’m sitting on a toilet or that could have gone wrong too.

  Marcus appears in the doorway. He reaches for the top of the doorframe, holding himself up as he looks in on me. The evil glint has diminished a bit, but I’m not fooled. It’s still in there, even if it’s not glowing strong.

  “What?” I ask as I look at him. He’s not an ugly man—quite the opposite, in fact. It was his looks that attracted me to him in the beginning. I’m the first to admit I was vain. He’s toned and tanned, with dark hair and bright green eyes. But once I learned who he really is, all of that twisted into something dark and evil. Something that looks sinister, not sensual.

  He doesn’t answer me, just straightens and stalks into the bathroom. He stands in front of me but reaches past me to open the shower door and turn on the water. I turn my head when he begins taking his clothes off, because there is no longer any pleasure in seeing him undress. The hot water from the shower fills the bathroom with steam. Marcus grabs me by the back of the hair and turns my face towards his.

  “It’s okay if you look. I don’t mind,” he says and then stands back. I close my eyes and I hear him chuckle. When I open them up, he’s gone, standing behind the foggy shower door. He washes up as I sit on the top of the toilet, staring at the ceiling. If I had to guess, I’d bet the dirty, dishwater-grey ceiling was once white. I can honestly say I will never willingly step foot into another motel in my life.

  Then the shower turns off, and I close my eyes again. The shower door rattles, letting me know he’s getting out. I feel a drop of water soak through my pants. I open my eyes when I feel another.

  Marcus is right in my face with his hand braced on the wall next to my head, but he remains quiet. I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Before I can begin guess what his next move will be, he does something I don’t quite understand: he reaches up and unlocks the cuff on the bar. He turns away from me, but pauses in the doorway, still completely naked.

  “The door is locked. There isn’t anyone else here. The closest person is about five miles away. If you try to run, you won’t get far.” And then he walks back into the bedroom.

  I don’t know what to make of any of this, but I’m glad to be out of those cuffs. I couldn’t really feel my fingers anymore. My arms have been hanging for long enough that I couldn’t find a comfortable position that didn’t cut off circulation. I shake out my arms and stretch them out. I even give each finger a good rub to help with circulation. The pins-and-needles sensation burns, but I’m grateful for it because it means my circulation is returning to normal.

  I climb down from the toilet and stand. I regret it almost immediately as my ankle gives out. I grab the sink counter to stop myself from crashing to the floor and landing on my ass. I pull my weight off that foot and use the wall, furniture, whatever I can to support myself as I hop into the bedroom. That’s what I get for running, I guess.

  Marcus is lying on the bed watching tv in a pair of boxers. When I enter, he reaches for a brown bag on the table next to the bed and holds it out towards me.

  “What’s that?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Food.”

  When I don’t react, he places the bag on the bed, grabs a bottle from the nightstand, and places it next to the bag.

  I stare at the bag, practically drooling, but I don’t reach for it. Any food Marcus offers me makes me wary. But damn am I hungry.

  “It’s not going to hurt you. Eat,” he says, all without taking his eyes off of the television. I hop on my good foot to the end of the bed. I pull the bag to me and look inside of it. A neatly wrapped burger is sitting at the bottom with a few grease stains. I pull it out and slowly unwrap it. It smells like heaven. But right now, I’m so hungry I’m sure anything would. I open it up and look on the inside of the burger just to be careful. Once I’m sure it’s as safe as I can assume, I take a bite.

  I moan the moment it hits my tongue. It’s delicious. I take another bite and then another until I’ve devoured the entire thing. I’m sure I’ll end up with a stomachache in a few minutes from eating so fast after not eating anything yesterday, but I couldn’t help myself. I reach for the bottle of water and drink that nearly as fast.

  “You were hungry,” Marcus says as he reaches for the remote and turns off the television. He stands up and walks around the bed. I stare at him, unmoving, just watching. I’m not sure what he’s going to do as he comes close. He picks me up like I’m a rag doll and drops me at the head of the bed. Just as quickly, he grabs the empty cuff and fastens it around his wrist.

  “Just reassurance. Now sleep. We have a big day tomorrow,” he says as he lies down next to me and settles his head against the pillow.

  “A big day? What do you mean?” I ask. I don’t know if I like the sound of that.

  “Go to sleep, Fallon,” he says with his eyes closed and his arm shackled to mine.

  But I don’t; I simply lay there staring at the wall for several long minutes. I can hear his uneven breathing; he’s not asleep yet either.

  “Why?” I ask.

  He takes a moment to answer. I hear him swallow before he speaks. “What do you mean?”

  I turn my head towards him. “Why, Marcus? Why me? Why does it have to be me? Why not be with any other girl?”

  His eyes finally open, and he stares at me for a moment before saying simply, “You tried to tell me no.”

  Just like that. Because I was capable of standing up to him, his fucked-up head justified that as a good enough reason to force me to be his—to steal the choice right out from under me.

  “And if I tell you no again?” I ask.

  “You won’t. You no longer have that freedom,” he says before he turns back and closes his eyes again. “Sleep, Fallon.”

  It was Luna. That was when I told him no. When I didn’t take care of the “problem,” his twisted mind thought it meant I was the one for him. But I’m not. I know now I never really was—not even when I was blinded by the glamor of him being an older, sexy man who wanted me. A part of me still knew it was wrong. I still knew he was wrong.

  I don’t regret it though. I will never regret fighting for my daughter. Even now, when I’m caged by the animal he has become—that he always has been—she was worth it. She will always be worth it.

  “Boy, you’ve gone mad, haven’t you?
” Shady says as she passes the bottle back to me.

  “I don’t know,” I say as I tip the bottle up. Shady always has the good stuff. I look at the bottle of fancy scotch. It’s the same kind my father drinks. “Maybe.”

  “This girl—she’s gotten under your skin, huh?” she asks. She chuckles a bit, shaking her head. “Who knew the great Jesse Callaway would fall in love.”

  “You knew,” I say.

  “Yeah, I guessed one day someone would come along,” she says. “She’s a lucky bitch.”

  I pass the bottle back to Shady, and she takes a sip before we sit a moment in silence. I look out at the Depot from the hood of my car. This track once meant everything to me. Now it’s just a track with people slowly starting to show up. The game must be over, and that means my time is up.

  “Well, it’s time to get to work,” Shady says as she hands me the bottle and stands up.

  “Shady,” I call out. She turns to look back at me. “I’m sorry.” And I am.

  “Don’t be. You and I would’ve never worked out,” she says with a small, slightly sad smile. “It was fun.”

  Our eyes meet for a moment, and I hope she can see the sincerity in them. She walks off to handle the track. Shady is a cool chick, and we did have fun, but it’s not something that would have ever worked out. She’s a few years older than me. She runs my track. And she’s not Fallon.

  I continue to take a few sips as I watch the track fill up with kids from all different walks of life. The track has always been great for that—bringing us all together.

  Tonight, just like on most weekends at the Depot, everyone gathers, lining the track. Continuing on with their lives and having fun with their friends. There’s no care or worries. What I wouldn’t give to be like them . . . to not know what it feels like to have the goddamn pressure. The responsibility. To have my fucking heart torn from me. Even this scotch, most likely stolen out of my asshole father’s collection, isn’t really helping.

  “Did you come to show the world how big and bad Jesse Callaway is?” Jordan’s annoying voice blesses me. I look to my right and there he is—an angry fool glaring right at me.

  “What the fuck do you want Jordan? Another ass-kicking?” I ask. A swig of scotch is better than looking at this fuckwit.

  “What’s the matter, Callaway? Run out of people to beat up?” Jordan says.

  I let out a sigh. Is this kid fucking stupid? I can’t believe he has the balls to talk to me after the shit he pulled, let alone catch an attitude. This fucker is the last person I wanted to deal with tonight. I just needed a break. I stand up and turn to him. “What is it Jordan? You want to be me? You want the power? I don’t fucking care. Take it—you can have it.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” Jordan snarls. “You walk around here stepping on everyone and everything in your way. When we aren’t useful anymore, you toss us away.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You fucking betrayed me,” I growl. “You want to do this now? Then spit it the fuck out. Say what you have to say.”

  “You’re not as mighty as you have everyone in this town convinced you are. All it took was one girl to break you,” he says.

  “Leave Fallon out of this, you fucking pussy. Whatever your problem with me is, it’s not about her,” I say as I step forward. Threatening me is one thing, but I’ve had enough of everyone trashing Fallon to get to me. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you for what you did to her. If I ever hear you so much as say her name again, I’ll beat your ass so bad you won’t—"

  “What? I won’t ever talk again?” Jordan asks. He scoffs at my threat. “You’re no leader. What kind of leader is too afraid to get on his own track? Look at you—you’re pathetic. Drunk, sitting here letting some girl tear you apart all while looking down on his kingdom that someone else has been ruling. You’re nothing.”

  I’m done. This prick has no idea who he’s messing with.

  “Boy, I suggest that you carry your ass somewhere else,” Shady says as she steps up beside me. “We don’t tolerate trouble around here.”

  Jordan tips his head back and laughs. “Oh, now your other woman is coming to your rescue? Why don’t we settle this for good—on the track where it all started. Or are you too scared?”

  “I said get out of here,” Shady says.

  “It’s fine, Shady. If he wants a race, he can have one,” I say coolly as I watch Jordan. When did he become so angry? This is not the Jordan I was friends with. He’s changed, become jaded. But fuck it. He wants to step to me? He can bring it the fuck on. “You want to challenge me Jordan? Fine. But you need to be prepared for what happens when you fucking lose.”

  “Jesse, your dad will have my hide if he finds out I let you on the track drunk,” Shady whispers to the side.

  “My dad doesn’t control me. Neither do you. Clear the track, Shady,” I say. My morose drunkenness is quickly being burned away by the anger and adrenaline starting to pump through my veins.

  Shady steps up close and looks me directly in the eye. “Jesse, this is what he wants. It’s a power play. He wants to be you. He knows you’ve been drinking, and he thinks this is his shot to rise up,” Shady whispers again.

  “And? What’s your point?” I ask.

  “My point is be smart. You’re not thinking straight,” she growls.

  “Are we doing this or what?” Jordan calls out boldly, “Or is your girl here gonna show the track how much of a pussy you really are?”

  He has no idea he’s poked the beast. But maybe this is just what I need—an outlet for all the anger and frustration and need for destruction. I can feel the red haze of rage filtering my vision when I glare at Jordan as I say, “Clear the track, Shady.”

  I hear her sigh, but then she cups her hands to her mouth and yells out, “All right, you heard him! Clear the track.”

  “You better know what you’re doing, boy. This is my job on the line,” Shady says as she follows me to my car.

  I yank off my jacket and throw it in the passenger seat. “Your job isn’t going anywhere.”

  I grab the bottle of scotch and drain the last bit of it. Fuck it. I figure if I’m going to do this, I’ll do it right. Shady isn’t wrong—Jordan is playing on what he thinks is my weakness. I’m not naïve enough to believe otherwise. But he doesn’t realize that he’s giving me a minute to fly, to breathe. I’ve failed at everything in my life lately— my family, my girl, my throne. The pain has me on edge, ready to explode.

  “Well if you’re going to do this, at least fucking win. Don’t let that little punk think he’s hot shit,” she says before she walks away to do her job.

  I get behind the wheel of my car and focus my eyes. I won’t lie, I feel the alcohol in my veins. Maybe that is what’s giving me the power to be reckless. Fallon would kill me if she knew how I was acting. But she’s not here right now, so fuck it.

  I grip the steering wheel and feel the pebbled leather under my palms. I turn the key and hear the engine’s smooth rumble. It’s been a minute since I’ve been on this track.

  I put the car in drive and slowly lead up to the starting line. As usual, we’re greeted with a half-naked adrenaline-junky chick standing at the line up with a flag in her hand.

  Jordan pulls up next to me in his modified Mustang. Guess hanging out with Crank all day has its benefits. But he has nothing on me.

  I rev the engine a bit to feel it purr again. I look straight ahead; it’s time I get my head in the game. I focus on the dirt—every bit of it. The adrenaline pumping through me helps my mind focus. I’m ready.

  The girl looks to each of us, waiting for our confirmation that we’re ready to go. We nod, and she raises the flag in one hand and three fingers in the other.

  One finger goes down, and I rev. The second finger go down, and I grip the wheel harder.

  Three. I punch the gas but hold steady. Jordan is predictable—he hits the gas and flies out the gate. But what thi
s prick doesn’t get is that you have to be smart. So I stay on his tail.

  He stays in the lead through most of the track. Then the last leg comes up. This is my moment. I push the gas until it hits the floor, surging forward. That cocky little fucker thought he was going to win.

  I pass him at the last minute just as he backs off. Why the fuck would he back off?

  I cross the finish line and slow. I’ve won. Eat that, fucker. I hit my brakes . . . but I don’t stop. The car slides forward like it’s gliding across an oil slick. I pump the brakes and steer into the slide as I try to find some control over the situation.

  Then I’m upside down. Glass is flying. Metal is crunching. But as I flip, I don’t see the wreck happening or feel anything. I just see Fallon’s face. I see what could happen to her if I don’t find her. What could’ve already happened to her. I see Jade and Cason left to fight my father on their own. I see my mother sad and lonely pining for her children’s lives—or what’s left of them. Then I see all of them standing side by side, the disappointment on their faces.

  “Jesse.” Fallon’s voice whispers in my ear. Her voice soothes my soul. “Jesse. Wake up. You have to wake up.”

  “Jesse.” This time it’s Cason’s voice. “Jesse, are you alright?”

  I open my eyes. Fallon’s gone. Her voice has disappeared, along with her touch, her warmth. Everything I crave. I’m hanging upside down in my car. I look to the whole where my window was to people running towards my car.

  “Jesse,” Jade screams.

  “Jade, get back! I’ll get him,” Cason yells.

  I reach up and unhook my belt. I fall to the ground, hitting my head and leaving me a bit woozy. I slowly crawl through the broken window. Cason reaches down and grabs my wrist. I latch my hand around his so we’re gripping each other and let him pull me out.

  I stand up and rub my hands through my hair. I can feel the adrenaline draining from my system. I turn to look at my car. Or, at least, what’s left of it. Fuck.

  “What the fuck were you thinking? Racing? Shady said you showed up here drunk.” Cason is pissed. “Man, get your fucking head on straight. I know Fallon isn’t here right now, but you can’t do shit like this.”