Heat (The Ella and Micha Prequel Series Book 1)

by Jessica Sorensen

  Heat

  (The Ella and Micha Prequel Series, #1)

  Jessica Sorensen

  Heat

  Jessica Sorensen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2018 by Jessica Sorensen

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  No part of this book can be reproduced in any form, or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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  For information: jessicasorensen.com

  Cover design by MaeIDesign

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Confused is My Middle Name Lately

  I’m Not Hot

  Fiery Red Lipstick

  The Real Reason

  A Vow

  About the Author

  Also by Jessica Sorensen

  Confused is My Middle Name Lately

  Ella

  Sometimes I feel as if the ground is about to open up and swallow me. And sometimes, on mornings like now, I kind of wish it would. I’d way rather be stuck in some dark, bottomless abyss than have to deal with the shit that is my life right now.

  “You’re going to have to find a way to bail me out,” my dad says to me through the phone.

  It’s five o’clock in the morning, on a school day I might add, and he’s calling me from jail. He hasn’t told me why he was arrested, but I have a pretty good guess—something that’s related to alcohol.

  “I can’t come bail you out right now.” I rub the sleepiness from my eyes then glance at the window. Awesome. The damn sun isn’t even up yet. “I have to get ready for school in like an hour.”

  “Yeah, so?” he slurs into the phone. “An hour’s enough time to come get me.”

  Awesome. He’s still drunk. But then again, when isn’t he?

  “No, it’s not. And we don’t have enough extra cash for bail money.” I scoot to the edge of my bed and lower my feet onto the floor. “You’re just going to have to wait it out… How long are you supposed to be in there for?”

  “Ella.” The slur still remains in his voice, but his tone is now laced with irritation. “I’m not going to wait. You’re going to come bail me out now… I have to be somewhere today… A work thing.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s so full of shit. My dad hasn’t had a job for a couple of weeks, since he got fired for showing up to his last job drunk. It’s basically the same reason he was fired from his previous five jobs. More than likely, the real reason he wants to be out of jail so badly is he probably needs another drink. It’s all he really does anymore—go to the bar and drink. He’s been this way for as long as I can remember, but has gotten worse lately. Honestly, I’m not even sure where he gets the money to buy drinks since we’re broke—I would know since I take care of the finances. I have since I was twelve and realized my mother was too ill to do it herself, my older brother Dean was too irresponsible, and my dad… Well, I think this phone call explains everything.

  “You don’t have a job right now.” I stand up and stretch my arms above my head. “And, like I said, I don’t have the time to bail you out nor do we have the money. And I don’t even have my learner’s permit so I’d have to walk down to the station and it’s freezing outside.”

  I know for a fact it is since 1). It’s always cold in Star Grove from September to May, and right now it’s November. And 2). There’s a layer of frost on my bedroom window.

  “I thought you got your license already,” my dad murmurs. “You’re sixteen. Why haven’t you?”

  “I’m barely fifteen.” I’d be hurt except he’s drunk and probably isn’t very aware of anything he’s saying. Plus, this isn’t the first time he’s forgotten how old I am. “I can’t get my permit for another few months.”

  “You’ve driven before.”

  “Yeah, but that was an emergency.” When I had to drive my mom to the hospital.

  It happened about six months ago and she was having an episode and wouldn’t calm down. Dean and my dad weren’t home and I couldn’t get ahold of my best friend Micha, who lives next door to me. He has his learner’s permit and would’ve driven me in a heartbeat, but I couldn’t get him to answer his phone that night, which was a bit strange—he almost always answers my calls. In fact, usually we’re attached at the hip. But that night he’d gone out of town with his mom and his phone was out of service. And while I have a couple of other friends, I’m not close enough with them to feel comfortable enough to call them up and ask them for a ride to the hospital, especially with the condition my mom was in at the time.

  My mom, who was diagnosed with a bipolar disorder, sometimes has grandiose delusions. During them, she talks a lot about these crazy things she believes she can do. Like for example, she once thought she could fly. Micha has seen her like this and so has his mom, but no one else I know outside of my family has. Truthfully, I’m not even sure Dean has since he’s rarely around. He graduates at the end of this year and all he talks about is how he’s going to take off the day he’s given his diploma. I secretly envy him for being able to say that, for not caring about anyone else. Sometimes I wish I could just say to hell with taking care of my drunk dad and my ill mother and live my life without worry. But then who would be here to take my mom to the hospital and make sure she doesn’t actually try to fly? Who would pay the bills? Who would pick my dad’s sorry ass up from the bar when the bartender threatens to call the police if no one picks him up?

  “Look, Ella, just come get me, okay,” my dad says in somewhat of a panic. “Have Micha drive you or have his mom. Just find a damn way to get me out of here because there’s no way in hell I’m staying here until tomorrow… I can’t.” His voice cracks.

  I’d feel bad for him except I know the reason he wants to be bailed out.

  “You’re only going to be in there for twenty-four hours,” I say. “I don’t need to come bail you out.”

  “Ella, goddammit,” he says, growing more irritated.

  I hang up on him.

  Yeah, it might be a jerk move to leave my dad in jail, but I’ve learned over the years that bailing him out really doesn’t do him any good. And besides, at least during the twenty-four hours he’s behind bars, he can sober up. Although, that’ll only last until he’s released.

  I probably sound like a huge pessimist right now, but there’s a certain point where someone’s done the same thing so many times that you stop believing they’re going to change. Plus, my dad never makes any promises to change, so…

  “Ella, are you awake?” my mom calls out from her room.

  It’s a little weird she’s up this early and worry creeps through me as I make my way out of the room and down the hallway. It’s beyond freezing and goosebumps sprout across my arms. I can’t turn the heat up, though—can’t afford it—so all I can do is dress in layers. Right now, I’m sporting an old pair of flannel pajama bottoms I stole from Micha along with a hoodie that’s also his.

  I’ve always borrowed his clothes, and back in the day, they used to fit me. But when we turned fourteen or so, he hit a growth spurt and now he’s a handful of inches taller than my five foot nine frame. He’s also gotten a bit more muscular, so h
is clothes are a bit too big for me. I still wear them, though, at least his pajamas. And while I’ll never, ever admit this to anyone aloud, part of the reason why I do it is because his clothes smell like him and I find his scent comforting. But Micha is my comfort in my crazy life, so—

  “Ella!” my mom shouts, her voice now laced with panic. “Where are you?”

  “I’m right here.” I push open her bedroom door and find her sitting up in her bed and clutching something in her hand. She looks exhausted, dark circles reside under her eyes, and her hair is a mess of tangles, making me wonder if she slept at all last night or if she just lied awake in bed, like she sometimes does. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got a call from your father. He’s been arrested and he needs our help.” She extends her hand toward me. “Take this money and go bail him out.” She unfolds her fingers, revealing a wad of cash.

  I frown. “Dad called you?”

  She nods, urging me to take the money. “And he needs our help now, so go. Help him.”

  I eyeball the money dubiously. “Where’d you get the cash, Mom?”

  She shrugs. “I’ve been saving up.”

  Yeah, I’m not buying into that, but at the same time, getting her to tell the truth can be nearly impossible. Like for instance, the fact that there’s a Porsche parked in our crappy garage of our run-down house that’s in the middle of a very low-income neighborhood. The title to the car has my mom’s name on it, yet no one really knows how the hell she got it. She also refuses to sell it, no matter how many times I’ve thrown the idea out there. Part of me worries she stole it and I’ve secretly been waiting for the cops to show up and arrest her, but it hasn’t happened yet. Still doesn’t mean I don’t believe it won’t.

  “Mom.” I choose my next words carefully; knowing that rationalizing with her can be complicated. “I know Dad told you he needs help, but trust me, he really doesn’t. He’s only going to be in jail for twenty-four hours and for something I’m sure he did… And it might be good for him to stay there. It’ll give him some time to sober up. And we should save our money for stuff like bills.”

  Shaking her head, she grabs ahold of my hand and puts the cash into my palm. “We can’t just let him rot in jail. We need to save him, Ella, so take this money and go save your father.” Her eyes are wild and filled with worry.

  Pressing my lips together, I wrap my fingers around the cash and nod. “Okay.”

  She visibly relaxes. “Thanks, sweetie.” She rests back in her bed. “You’re a good kid. You know that.”

  I force a smile. While I like when she’s nice to me, I know her upbeat mood is fleeting. And when it nosedives… Well, things get dark really fast.

  “Have you taken your meds this morning yet?” I ask. When she shakes her head, I back toward the door. “I’ll go get them for you, okay?”

  She nods then lies down in the bed. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  I’ve thought that a lot too, which is why deep down I know I’ll never get to leave Star Grove, even though Micha and I made a pact that one day we would leave together. It’ll never happen for me, though. Not when I have a drunk for a father and a mom who needs taken care of all the time.

  Forcing another smile, I leave her room and go down to the kitchen to get her medication. The counters are littered with beer bottles and dishes that need cleaned. The garbage needs to be taken out and I’m not even sure how long it’s been since the floor was mopped. I’ve been slacking off on my chores lately and I make a mental note to clean the house today when I get home from school, even though Micha will probably want me to hang out with him. I’ll have to tell him no, though, even if I do hate telling him no. And I really hate not being able to go out. It’s the only time I get to feel like a normal fifteen-year-old. Well, normal might be a stretch. I’m not sure if I’ve ever really felt normal.

  Sighing at the thought, I grab my mom’s medicine bottle from the cupboard, get a pill out, and fill up a glass of water. Then I head back upstairs. When I enter her room, she’s fallen asleep. And she’s pretty out of it when I wake her up to take her pill. The second she takes it, she goes right back to sleep, something I’m kind of grateful for because it means that hopefully, she’ll stay out of trouble while I’m at school.

  After I leave the room, I wander back to my room to stash the cash she gave me because I’m not going to use it to bail my dad out of jail. Then I grab a pair of black jeans, a grey shirt, and some clean underwear and a bra from my dresser and head to the bathroom to take a shower.

  It’s not a surprise when I can’t get the water to heat up, probably because the water heater broke again, so I end up taking an ice-cold one. By the time I climb out, my lips are tinted blue and my fingers are numb.

  Shivering and chattering, I pull on my clothes then comb my fiery red hair, the color something I inherited from my mother, although her’s is more auburn than red and way prettier in my opinion. I’m not much of a makeup girl, but I have been dabbing on some kohl eyeliner and lip-gloss lately, but I doubt I’ll ever be one of those girls who cover her face with makeup. It just seems too time consuming and I already don’t have a lot of extra time as it is. Plus, I really don’t get the point of caking on stuff all over my face just so I can wash it off at night. And besides, makeup is super expensive.

  Once I’m all done getting ready, I return to my bedroom. It’s still early enough that I don’t need to leave for school, so I plan on getting out my sketchbook and spending some time working on my mid-term project for art class. But when I enter my room, I realize my plans have gone out the window. Literally, since the window is open.

  “Dude, what’re you doing?” I ask Micha as he ducks through my bedroom window. “It’s freezing outside.”

  His black boots hit the floor with a thud. “Yeah, so? Like that’s ever stopped me before.”

  True, but still.

  I move to close the window while he rakes his fingers through his blonde locks of hair the hangs into his aqua eyes.

  Snow dots his black jeans and matching hoodie, which means…

  I glance outside as I pull the window shut, then grimace. “Shit, it’s snowing.”

  “Isn’t it usually?” He remarks, flopping down onto my bed.

  “It wasn’t when I woke up, and I was kind of hoping it’d stay that way.” I sigh, turning away from the window.

  “Well, that was very optimistic of you,” he teases with a grin.

  “I know, right?” I sink down onto the edge of the bed beside where his feet are resting. “It’s very out of character for me.”

  His smile fades a bit. “What’s wrong?”

  I shrug. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” He sits up and scoots over beside me. “You know I can read you, right? Which means I know when you’re lying, sad, pissed off—I know everything about you, Ella May.”

  His statement is pretty true, but not entirely. There’s a couple of things Micha doesn’t know about me and I want to keep it that way. Not that I don’t trust him with my secrets. I’ve known him since I was like four years old, and he’s done nothing but show his trustworthiness. But I worry he might not like me as much if he knew some of the thoughts I had, how I sometimes wish I could just take off without telling anyone and never come back. Although, I think I’d probably end up telling him because I’d miss him too much.

  He gives me a funny look. “You look like you’re doubting my mad know-everything-about-you skills.”

  “No one knows everything about someone,” I point out, wishing he couldn’t read me so well. “I mean, I know a lot of stuff about you, but I’m sure you have secrets.”

  I swear for a flash of a second worry flickers in his eyes. But then a smile pulls at his lips.

  “We should play a game of Truth or Dare so we can find out each other’s secrets,” he says, seeming pretty pleased with himself.

  “If we play a game of Truth or Dare, I’m always going to pick dare.” I throw him a h
aughty smirk. “You should know that if you know everything about me.”

  A wicked grin touches his lips as he lightly pinches my side. I let out the stupidest girly squeal, but don’t take off running like some girls would. No, I pinch him back, right on the chest.

  He curses, leaning back from me. “Why do you always go for my nipple?” he whines as he rubs the spot I just pinched. “I’m starting to think you have an obsession with them. Is that it, Ella May? Do you have an obsession with my nipples? Because if so, maybe I should just show them to you. It might help you get over it.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt, a grin forming on his lips.

  Here’s the thing about having a guy for a best friend. I’ve gotten used to dirty remarks. And I’ve learned over the years that if I blush, it’s only going to encourage him more.

  “Why would seeing your nipples help me get over my obsession?” I question. “Are they like super hairy and gross and I’m going to take one look at them and be so grossed out that my obsession ends?”

  He gives me an unimpressed look. “My nipples are in no way, shape, or form hairy or gross.”

  I bite back a smirk. “You’re the one that said seeing them would end my obsession. I was just wondering why.”

  He moves his fingers away from the hem of his shirt with a frown on his face. But that frown dissipates and morphs into a grin. “You know what? I’m not going to take what you said personally since I know for a fact you don’t think my nipples are gross.”

  I arch a brow, pretending to be the epitome of cool, but deep down, his smirk is making me uneasy. “There’s no way you can know that since I don’t think that.”

  He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, appearing pretty damn amused with himself. “Is that why Ethan caught you staring at me shirtless the other day? And according to him, you stared for at least a minute.”