Julie takes a deep breath and then sniffs. “There was nothing they could do to save him. He died right there on the scene. I just wish I could’ve had the chance to tell him good-bye—to tell him how much I loved him.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m sure he never questioned that. The love you shared with him—it was so evident—so I know without a doubt you, Jared, and Wes were the last ones on his mind. He loved you all so much.”
Tears continue to pour from Julie’s eyes as her gaze meets mine. “Thank you, London. And I know you meant the world to him too. He always spoke about you as if you were already a part of the family. It was never a question of if you would marry our son, but when. We all love you very much.”
Those sweet words only make me cry harder, and my thoughts shift to Jared. If I’m breaking this much inside, I can only imagine the pain he’s going through. I wish he would allow me to be by his side to comfort him, but grief is a strange thing. Some people like me need people around them, while others like Jared need space to process what’s happened.
As if Julie has read my mind, she says, “Go to him, London. He needs you right now even if he doesn’t know it.”
I nod and wipe my face. “Okay.”
I lean in and wrap my arms around her. “I’m so sorry about Henry. I loved him like a dad.”
When I pull back, she cups my face. “I know that, sweet girl, and he loved you like a daughter.”
I glance over at Wes, who now has nearly the same exact vacant expression that Julie wore when we first found her sitting at this kitchen table. He’s always been the more reserved brother—the one who seems to keep everything together, much like their mother—while Jared tends to be more adventurous like their father.
I push myself up from the table and then walk around to the side Wes is sitting on. I bend down and hug him, and he instantly wraps his arms around me. He buries his face in my hair and inhales deeply. “Thank you for being here.”
His kind words make me feel like I belong here with this family and I’m not some intruder on this very private, heart-wrenching affair.
I rub his back while he clings to me. “I’ll always be here if you guys need me.”
I pull back, and Wes releases me and looks to his mother, and then back to me. “I would take you to look for Jared, but I think it’s best if I stay here with Mom. I don’t want to be the thing he directs his anger on, because he’s obviously pissed at me right now. Promise me that you’ll be careful and call me if you need me.”
I nod. “I promise. I’ll walk to my house and use Dad’s car to drive around a bit. I know of a few places that he may have taken off to. I’ll start by checking those places first.”
“I mean it, London. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be here for you,” he says, and then his eyes soften. “Always.”
The tender expression accompanied with his sweet plea for me to lean on him in this situation is very touching, and it means so much to me.
“Thank you.” I place my hand on his forearm. “I promise that I will,” I tell him before I turn and head out the door, on a mission to find Jared before he does something crazy.
THEN
JARED
I’ve been sitting at this intersection for what feels like hours. It’s not busy, so I’ve sat here behind the wheel of my truck watching the traffic lights go through three rotations as I try to figure out where to go. It wasn’t like I had an exact plan when I stormed out of my house, but I couldn’t take being there for one more second. The walls were closing in around me, and I wasn’t ready to hear any more details about my father being gone.
The last word echoes around in my brain: gone. That word can be used in so many contexts. Some are positive, like every cookie we brought for the bake sale is gone, while others are so bitter and vile that no one wants to hear them. My father is gone, as in forever, as in he’s never coming back, and I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do with that information.
There will be no more Sunday phone calls from Dad—no more working on the car together to get it running top notch. No more jamming on the guitar together. No more . . . Everything has changed. Everything is different.
I stare at the red light in front of me on display, mocking me by putting my life on hold. When it turns green again, I still haven’t made up my mind where I’m going, but an angry horn blaring behind me tells me that my time just sitting here is over.
I crank the wheel to the right and mash the gas. It doesn’t take long before I find myself in the shady part of Knoxville. I don’t venture around here much, and soon I discover that I’m lost and have no clue where to go from here. I glance down at my gas gauge and notice that it’s on empty, but luckily for me the bright lights of a station illuminate the night sky.
The tires roll over the pavement, bouncing me inside the cab as I come to a stop beside a gas pump. When I open the door, I fish my wallet from my back pocket and head toward the store to pay.
On the way in, my gaze meets the brown eyes of a tall, skinny white guy with a beanie and red flannel shirt hanging out just outside the door. The clothing choice strikes me as odd, considering it’s May in Tennessee, which doesn’t exactly call for dressing warm. He twitches his nose before wrinkling it, and I catch a glimpse of his toothless smile. That takes me aback because the guy can’t be much older than I am, yet the roughness of his appearance gives off the impression that he’s much older.
When he catches me staring, he tilts his head and lifts his eyebrows as if to silently ask me what I want. Instead, I jerk my gaze away and shove through the heavy glass door. After prepaying for the gas, I return to my truck and take another long look in the man’s direction before I head back to fill my tank.
Bugs swarm the buzzing lights overhead as I set the nozzle on automatic fill and then grip the side of the truck bed and lower my head onto my arms. I sigh and wish there was some way to escape and forget about everything for a while.
My gaze snaps back up, and again I zero in on the man standing next to the building. Without really thinking about what I’m doing, I head toward the guy and leave my truck there to fill up.
When I step up in front of him, I shove my hands into my pockets. “Um, do you . . .”
Shit. I’m not even sure how to ask this.
“You lookin’ to get high, homey?” His voice is deeper than I expected, and it catches me off guard.
I furrow my brow, unsure of what to say.
“You need something or not? I’ve got the best shit. It’ll take you to a new high, man—shit so good it will make you forget your own fucking name.” He rubs the tip of his nose with his index finger.
While I’ve never done drugs before—always on the straight and narrow because I love baseball so much—I have to admit that losing my mind for a bit sounds pretty damn perfect right now. Against my better judgment, I decide to see what he has to offer.
I nod. “Yeah, what do you have?”
The skinny man wearing a red flannel shirt smiles. “Shit, homey, I got whatever you want.”
My thoughts drift over every movie I’ve ever seen, searching for the right terms to use, and I come up with only one way to ask for pot without seeming clueless. “Do you have a dime bag?”
He nods. “Not here, though.” He points his finger in the air and then does a circle motion. “There’s eyes all around. Meet me around back after you get your gas.”
My pulse races under my skin, and I know how wrong this is and what it will cost me if I get caught, but I need to do this. At least with the rush of danger, I’m avoiding the real problem at hand.
The guy steps back and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You know where I’ll be.”
“Sounds good.” It’s the only reply I can think of at the moment.
I swallow deeply, and a click alerts me to the fact that my truck is now full. I run across the empty lot and remove the nozzle, pull a fifty from my wallet, and hop into my truck. Just like he said, the guy is waiting around
back, and the minute I’m close enough, he approaches.
I roll down the window and hold out the cash. “Change?”
The guy shakes his head. “I don’t do change, but I’ll throw in a rock.”
“Fine.” I should refuse it—crack is way above my speed level when it comes to this shit, but this isn’t exactly like buying something from a store where they have change readily on hand. It’s not like I’ll use it. Besides, I’m already nervous enough, so spending any longer out here than I have to isn’t a bright idea.
He rips the money from my hand and then shoves a couple baggies into it. “If you need more—”
Red-and-blue flashing lights accompanied by the distinct chirp of a police siren cause the guy to take off. A police cruiser skids to a stop and both doors fly open. One cop in a black uniform goes by the passenger side of my truck like a blur, hot on the guy’s heels, while the other cop from the car approaches my truck with his gun drawn.
Oh, shit!
This cannot be fucking happening to me right now.
“Place both hands outside the truck and slowly open the door using the outside handle,” the policeman orders.
The urge to duck out of this truck and run is overwhelming, but I know trying something stupid like that will only cause things to get a whole lot worse.
“All right!” I yell back as I do as he orders—both of my hands shaking uncontrollably when I stick them outside the window. “Don’t shoot!”
The second my door opens, I step out. The bright headlights from the cop car shine directly into my eyes, and I use my hands to shield them. I feel like I’m on a really bad episode of Cops. I’ve always heard the saying “wrong place at the wrong time,” and, shit, it’s never been truer than right now.
“Keep your hands up!” he screams as he rushes over to me and grabs me by the shirt collar, shoving me down to the ground, face-first, not giving me a chance to plead my case at all.
The wind whooshes from my lungs, and the man immediately jumps on my back and shoves his knee against my spine to hold me in place. “Jesus. Do you have to be so rough? I’m fucking cooperating.”
Mouthing off probably isn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t just allow him to treat me like a common criminal and not at least attempt to stand up for myself.
“Shut up!” he orders as he grabs my arms and jerks them behind my back before cuffing them together. The cop begins patting me down. “Do you have any knives, weapons, or needles that can poke me?”
“No, man. Nothing,” I say as the taste of dirt from the ground slips into my mouth from where I’m lying, cheek down.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks after he searches me and finds nothing, but I remain quiet, not wanting to say anything that will get me into any more trouble. “Answer me!”
“Nothing!” I answer after I see that I won’t be able to get away without saying anything at all.
He laughs bitterly, and if I had to guess, I would say he’s rolling his eyes at me. “That’s bullshit. When I search your vehicle, am I going to find anything?”
I pull my lips into a tight line. How in the fuck am I going to get out of this? The best thing I can do in this situation is come clean. Maybe he’ll let me go if he knows what I’ve been through this evening—if he knows that this isn’t an everyday thing for me.
“I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Am I going to find anything?” he asks again with more authority ringing through his voice.
I suck in a breath and then release it through my nose. “Yes, but you have to let me explain. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this.”
“That’s what they all say.” He reaches down and grabs my shoulder and my cuffed wrists and hoists me to my feet.
“You have to believe me, Officer. It’s true,” I plead.
“Why would I?” He walks me toward his squad car.
I close my eyes. I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to admit the truth out loud, because then it makes it real, and I’m not ready to face that. Running away from reality is the exact reason that I’m right here, right now.
The cop opens the door, and when I see the backseat, I panic. I know I have no choice but to tell him if I want any shot of getting out of this situation. “I found out that my dad died, and I was looking for something to take me out of this reality. When the guy came up to me and offered a way to forget about things, I took him up on the offer.”
The officer leans me back against the car. It’s the first time I’m able to get a good look at him. He’s about six inches shorter than me, with a very stocky build, and his gray hair pokes out from under his hat, revealing that he’s got a bit of age on him.
He frowns, and I can read a bit of sympathy in his dark eyes. “I’m really sorry to hear about your dad, but, son, the law is the law, and running to drugs isn’t the way to solve your problems.”
I lick my lips, and it’s not like I don’t already know it. Turning to them was an impulse decision that I wish I could take back. “I realize that, sir, but I obviously have a lot of shit going on right now. If you let me go, I swear to God that you’ll never catch me back on this side of town again.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work that way. If I find drugs in that truck of yours, I have to report you, and you’ll have to face up to having them in your possession.”
My heart races in my chest. “No, please. You don’t understand. If I get caught with drugs, I’ll lose my scholarship. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for my entire life over one stupid, rushed decision.”
He furrows his brow. “Scholarship? You look familiar. What’s your name?”
I lift my chin. “Jared Kraft.”
Both of his eyebrows rise up. “The Volunteers baseball pitcher?”
The only answer I give him is a quick nod.
The moment I confirm who I am, his eyes grow wide. “Shit, son. I heard them talking about you on ESPN the other day. All the analysts are calling you the next big thing. Why are you of all people out here buying drugs? You’ve got so much to lose.”
“I know that,” I reply, “but like I said, I made a mistake. I just found out my father died overseas and . . . I don’t know what I am. I’m not myself right now.”
He sighs. “I understand. I really do, and I wish I could do something for you, but the truth of the matter is all of this has already been documented on camera.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the squad car. “And besides that, if my partner catches the dealer, we’ll have no choice but to take him downtown. We can’t allow riffraff like that to run the streets and sell to teenagers and be the cause of someone’s death. I’m sorry, Jared, but my hands are tied.”
“Shit,” I mutter and tip my head up to the sky.
If Dad is watching this right now, I know he’s fucking pissed at me. I’ve let him down. I’ve let my family down, and more importantly I’ve let myself down. I ran out on my mother and brother when I know they needed me to be there and be strong, but I broke down like a coward—unable to face the harsh reality of the truth—and left them. How could I have done that? I hate letting people down. My integrity is one thing I prize, and I’ve lost it in one night. How can the people I love ever trust me to stick by them in the future when things get tough? And now, with this drug thing, it’ll destroy everything. My future—London’s future with me—may all be shot to shit after this.
I treated London so cold before I walked out the door tonight. She probably won’t forgive me. I know I wouldn’t if I were her. The way I lashed out at her—I’ve never done that before. I didn’t even know that part of me existed, and to be honest, with how fucked up my head is right now, I can’t promise that I’ll never do it again. I can’t control this anger inside me, and the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt her. I already hate myself right now for how I just treated her. If things keep going like this, I may not be the best thing for her anymore.
NOW
JARED<
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We’ve been on the road for a couple of months now in support of our second album. It’s one of the hottest days of the year, and Wicked White is one of the headlining bands for Summerfest. We’ve worked really hard to get to this point, not to mention our struggles with one another in order to make it to the big league.
Jane Ann rushes past me without giving me a single glance, her bright red hair swishing around as she frantically whips her head back and forth as if she’s looking for something.
I lift one eyebrow when she finally spots me and then makes a beeline toward me. “Looking for someone?”
She twists her red lips. “Yes, you. Where are Luke and Tyler? I need to speak with all of you.”
I shrug. “How should I know? I’m not their babysitter.”
Jane Ann crosses her arms over her chest. “Attitude like that is exactly what I need to speak with all of you about.”
“Really? I happen to believe that there’s not one thing wrong with my attitude,” I retort. “My contract doesn’t mention anything about me being fucking rainbows and sunshine. It says that I’m to show up, do my job, and that’s it, and I assure you I’ve never missed a show. Hell, if I had a time card, I’d be employee of the year with perfect attendance.”
Her face flushes, and I can tell she’s ready to rip into me but is trying hard to maintain her composure since there are so many people milling about around us in the backstage area. “Jared, you need to learn to respect others. This mouth of yours causes nothing but trouble.”
I roll my eyes. “Respect others? Like who?”
“Ace, for one.”
That causes a bitter laugh to tear out of me. “Ace? Are you fucking kidding me? Why should I respect him?”
She straightens her back. “Because after tonight I’m making him your boss. I’m putting him in charge of this band, giving him more authority to make minor calls to keep him happy, so you better get used to biting your tongue when it comes to Ace.” She glances down at her watch, and I open my mouth to fire back, but she cuts me off. “Speaking of which, Ace has a signing appearance to make, but I expect all of you to be waiting side stage to take direction from Ace as soon as he’s done signing autographs. If you’re late, for anything, you will be fined. Make sure you find the other two and let them know.”
Wicked Reunion (Wicked White Series Book 2) Page 7