Forgiven: a bully romance (An Academy Twin Rivalry Series Book 3)

by Taylor Blaine

  What was I expected to do? Give up my dreams to be with Jaxon? Why was that fair? Even if Jaxon did forgive me and we moved on, how would I know for sure if it was Jaxon or Braddox I was sleeping with? Braddox could trick me in so many different ways.

  Hadn’t he already proven that?

  No… What I needed to do was make sure he couldn’t do that to me. I had to hurt him, scar him, kill him – do something that would eliminate the fear he’d planted in me. I refused to go through life afraid and that’s exactly what he’d done to me. I wasn’t the victim sort. Not even Braddox was going to make me that way.

  I took a shaky breath, standing straight as I pushed myself off the bleachers. Swiping my knuckles under my eyes and sniffing, I pressed my lips together. Throwing my shoulders back, I lifted my chin. I wasn’t going to be afraid of Braddox.

  Even if Jaxon wanted to forgive me, I wouldn’t be able to sleep with him until something was done about Braddox. Was it possible Jaxon was mad enough at his twin he’d consider vengeance as well?

  What if I could get him to work with me?

  On the flip-side, and most likely more accurate side, what if Jaxon didn’t want anything to do with me?

  Jaxon had to be mad at me. The look on his face had been pure betrayal. He would be mad and hurt. Was it possible that part of his emotions had to do with the fact that I’d slept with Braddox? Or was it more likely that a huge part of the way he was feeling had to do with jealousy? What if he actually thought I cared about Braddox?

  No. How did I prove to Jaxon there was nothing redeemable about Braddox? Braddox had erased himself from my heart. I wasn’t going to let him try to worm his back in.

  What was I doing? I didn’t care about school. I didn’t want to be there anyway. I snuck back to the locker room and changed into my street clothes. I’d even ignored me need for a uniform since I only had a couple months before graduation and honestly, what were they going to do? Kick me out? Fine. Kick me out. I would be completely fine with that.

  My life was already torn apart as it was. I had nothing else to give.

  As daring as I felt I was, I didn’t feel like trying to ditch out on class through the front doors. Instead, I ducked out the side doors, hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder. Mom had let me borrow her car again and I’d parked it on the far side of the parking lot.

  The weather was typical Shores with its heavy clouds, pissing down rain that couldn’t seem to make up its mind if it was droplets or large drops, and a chilly breeze that slipped between the sheets of water. Suddenly, there would be a calm and no rain but plenty of wind. I pulled my hoodie up tighter around my face and watched where I stepped in case I fell in a puddle.

  I split my attention between where I was stepping and where I was going. As I got closer to the car, my insides churned. The bullet holes from Friday night weren’t obvious anymore.

  Whoever was after Stephanie and me had found the car. Or rather they’d found the car Stephanie had been in when we’d escaped Staci’s house Friday night.

  Slowing down, I swallowed as I stared at my mom’s car. The front windshield had been hit with a hard object, maybe a baseball bat or something similar in length, a golf club maybe? Spiderweb cracks covered the glass, concaving it in toward the steering wheel. Red paint had been splattered across the hood, splashed along the trunk and then wiped along the sides of the doors and windows. Water splotched it from the rain, but only added to the mess without rinsing it clean.

  I stopped my headlong flight toward the car and wrapped my arms across my waist. Looking around, I couldn’t see who might have done it. The parking lot was empty of people but plenty full of vehicles. Anyone who wanted to hurt me would be able to see me from any vantage point in the lot or at the building.

  My car was disabled. Demolished. At least on the outside. Would I still be able to drive it? Would I be forced to walk home and face the possibility of being picked up by whoever had done this?

  I approached from the side cautiously, reaching tentatively for my keys in my pocket and clicking the unlock button on the fob. The doors unclicked as if nothing was wrong.

  Pulling open my backpack, I yanked out a piece of random paper and wadded it up into a loose ball. Holding my shirt and jacket close to my stomach so it wouldn’t drag across the wet paint, I wiped at the medium on the window directly in front of the driver’s seat. My efforts did nothing but smear it around.

  I flared my nostrils, dropping the paint-soggy paper on the blacktop behind me and turning back to the driver’s door. I could use the washing fluid and windshield wipers, maybe? If nothing else, I could at least try. My irritation grew, stamping down my fear. The people who had done this were cowards. Cowards. Who in the hell did they think they were? My momentary frailty in the gym faded. My anger returned, reminding me I was stronger than people thought.

  Yanking open the door, I froze again. Lifting my hand to my mouth, I backed up from the car. Before I could do much of anything else, I turned my head to the side and threw up on the wet grass beyond the blacktop.

  Stephanie… They’d found her and then left her for me.

  Forcing myself to stand and face my friend’s body, I turned back to the car and ground my teeth together as I studied her. With the angle her head was lying, she had to be dead. That and her eyes were wide open, staring at the seatbelt strap in her lap holding her in place. They’d covered her presence with paint all over the windows.

  Who did I call? I didn’t have anyone else. My person was dead in front of me. Stephanie would have been my choice. I couldn’t even call her. We were just having a fight. Not a big deal. I wouldn’t have cared about her and Braddox. If anyone needed patience and tolerance, it was Stephanie. She was more messed up than most people. Or she had been.

  I had no doubt we’d be back to talking this week some time. Braddox was just a boy. Stephanie was…

  Dead.

  I couldn’t breathe. There was no way I could breathe. My throat constricted. I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t leave my friend to sit there in all her death. But I couldn’t get in the car either. I yanked out my phone and dialed 911.

  When the operator answered, I stammered through tears that weren’t sure if they were coming or not. “My… there’s someone dead in my car. I’m at the school. My car. She’s… Can you send someone, please?”

  The operator took down the pertinent information, somehow gathering what she needed through my stuttering and sobs. Hopefully, the police or ambulance would get there before whoever had done that to Stephanie came back for me.

  ~~~

  The day seemed never-ending. I’d planned on going home after breaking out of school and taking a nap, a bath, or both. Instead, I’d been stuck at the school, fielding questions I had no answers for from cops I wasn’t sure were there for me or because they truly wanted to protect me. I wasn’t sure about any of it.

  Somehow, I ended up back at Mom and Trenton’s place, climbing out of the cop’s backseat, unscathed but shaken.

  The police had roped off the area around the car and blocked the corner of the lot with the various police vehicles and the one ambulance that had come for her. I’m not sure what all the fuss was to hide anything. School wouldn’t get out for another couple hours. No one – including the teachers – cared what went on outside those walls when everyone and the drama was pent up inside.

  Honestly, the school was probably the safest place I could be. Except for Braddox. As long as he was there, I wasn’t safe.

  The same could be true for the house, but he was at the school. So, I could let my guard down a little bit for a few more hours. Exhaustion hit me full force and I blinked back tired and mourning tears. I really wanted to see Jaxon. Would he care that my friend was dead? Did I want to burden him with that? He already had so much on his shoulders. Did I really want to add more?

  Inside the house, I kicked off my tennis shoes. Everything ached. I hurt from head to toe. A huge part of me didn’t want to acknowledg
e my friend was dead. How could she be dead? We were still in the middle of a fight. A serious fight, but a fight nonetheless. One that I had no doubt we could get over. I had to believe that.

  And now? I didn’t even have the option to fix things with her. There was nothing.

  I couldn’t even return my mom’s car. Driving it had been stupid on my part. I could own that. But was it really necessary to kill my friend and leave her in the front seat?

  My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to all fours on the floor in the middle of the front foyer. I braced my hands in front of me and hung my head, my hair falling around my shoulders and hanging in my face. I didn’t care what I looked like or who walked in on me.

  Tears streamed down my face and my nose ran. Still not a sound came from my mouth. The pain was intense as I lowered myself slowly to my side on the marble flooring. I wasn’t too worried about the chill carrying through my clothes.

  How many times did I think saying I didn’t care was going to convince me that I didn’t care? Because I did. I cared. And caring hurt more than I could handle.

  My mouth opened of its own accord, but no sound came out. I curled my fingers, trying to dig into the marble by my face, but getting nowhere. How could I survive any longer? There was literally nothing else left to lose.

  My chest hurt from the constant ache. Even my feet hurt from the last seventy-two hours. All of my compounded around me. Then I realized everything was quiet. It was just me losing my shit in the foyer. There was no one else around. Jaxon wasn’t there. Our parents weren’t there. Even the help was gone.

  For some reason, that made me feel better, more secure.

  If no one was around, then no one could hurt me more than I already was. I could handle that.

  My sobs subsided and I rolled to lay on my stomach, turning my head to stare along the expanse of marble flooring. The chill of the rock seemed to seep some of the burning anger out of me. I flattened my palms on the marble, too.

  Okay, what did I need to do? Revenge against Braddox seemed more focal, more necessary. I couldn’t be sure he was the reason Stephanie had died. I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t. But push that aside, things would have been fine between me and Stephanie, if he hadn’t been screwing her upstairs.

  Things would have been fine, as soon as I was able to get over it. Not a big deal now that I looked back. Not a big deal when I was able to see things from a less encumbered perspective. I closed my eyes, refusing to let my control go again. Nothing would get fixed, if I lost it again. Nothing.

  And I had the insatiable and immediate need to fix something, anything.

  How could I get revenge on Braddox? He had no weaknesses, no nothing. He was the one and only cause of all my pain.

  Because of Braddox, I couldn’t have Jaxon.

  Because of Braddox, I’d lost my best-friend without having things okay between us.

  Because of Braddox, I’d lost my virginity in one of the worst ways I could have – barring violent rape.

  Everything came back to Braddox.

  With renewed sense of purpose, I pushed myself to all fours from my prone position. I could do it. I could do what it took to get back at Braddox. Standing, I lifted my eyes toward the catwalk above the large foyer area. I didn’t need a gun. I needed information.

  There was only one place Braddox spent more time than anywhere else.

  And he wasn’t home.

  With laser like precision, I stepped toward the stairs, climbing them as I continued staring in the direction of his room. I looked away only to make sure the front door was still closed and the house was still empty. Once I got into his room, I would only have a view of the front. People could come and go and I wouldn’t know, if I was looking anywhere other than out the window.

  I think I left my backpack by the door, but I wouldn’t guarantee it. For some reason, that didn’t even bother me. My phone hadn’t been in the bag. I could feel its weight in the back pocket of my jeans with each step.

  Anticipation shoved away the pain as it burned brightly inside me. I could figure something out. I could make Braddox pay. There was nothing I couldn’t do. I just had to remember that.

  I might not have been as daring as Stephanie, but I wasn’t afraid of anything anymore. Not even Braddox. He was just a guy. He could bleed. He could die.

  That became my mantra that I repeated over and over as I reached his door.

  He was just a guy. He would bleed. He could die.

  If only things were that fair.

  Chapter 5

  Olivia

  I moved slowly into Braddox’s room, the subtle aroma of his cologne more intoxicating as it created a mix of anger and melancholy inside me.

  Shutting the door behind me, I leaned back and stared at the interior of his room. A shiver shuddered through me, shaking my shoulders and my hands as I realized just what I was doing. I could turn back. I could stop whatever the madness was I’d taken on myself to do and I could go back to my room. I could take another bath.

  But taking a bath wouldn’t get me justice or revenge. Taking a damn bath wouldn’t make anything go away. No. I’d had enough baths. I was doing this.

  I kept my hand at my side rather than turn on the light. If he came home and saw the lights on in his room, he’d be suspicious. When I conducted my revenge, I wanted total surprise.

  But where did I start?

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I slid the cell out and glanced distractedly at the screen. Who would be texting me?

  I doubted it was Jaxon. He wasn’t going to forgive me any time soon. And I didn’t blame him.

  It wasn’t Stephanie. That wasn’t a text I was going to get ever again. Something I’d never fully recover from.

  My screen showed a text from Mom.

  M: Are you still going to Jaxon’s mom’s funeral this weekend?

  I stopped moving, staring down at the phone and blinking at the screen. The funeral had seemed so long ago. A part of me felt like it had already happened, but it hadn’t.

  Of course, I was going. I’d promised Jaxon. He might not know he needed me there, but he did. Even if he wasn’t talking to me, I could still offer support during that hard time.

  Me: Yeah.

  Me: …Stephanie is dead.

  I don’t know why I texted her that. Maybe because I needed someone to know that I’d lost my best-friend. I needed someone to know I was hurting. I needed someone to understand the tsunami of pain ripping through me.

  Mom’s response was immediate.

  Mom: Oh no! I’m so sorry. What can I do? Need to come out of school? I can write you a note. Want to go get massages or something?

  I furrowed my brow. Why in the hell would I want a massage? Sometimes my mom didn’t get it. At least, though, she cared enough to suggest something. I couldn’t even be irritated with her when her intent was to try to make me feel better.

  She also had no idea that I had already left the school. I’d have to save that tidbit for later.

  Me: Thanks. I might go home in a bit and get some sleep. I’m really tired.

  Did I tell her about the car? What if she never let me drive again? Although, to be honest, that was the least of my worries at the moment.

  The phone buzzed in my hand.

  Mom: How’d it happen?

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, seeing Stephanie’s body in front of me again. Memory was a cruel thing. My thumbs flew across the digital keyboard of my smart phone.

  Me: The people who chased us out of the Stabler house… I think they killed her. She was in your car in the parking lot. The car is destroyed. I’m sorry, Mom.

  I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She had no idea just what we’d done at the Stablers’. We hadn’t gone into the details and I didn’t think right then, over text, was the right time.

  Mom: We’ll talk about this later. Get home and don’t talk to anyone. I’ll talk to Trenton and see if we can get home within the hour, too.

  Wit
hin the hour. I only had an hour. Maybe less, if Braddox noticed I wasn’t in class. I didn’t reply as I tucked my phone back in my pocket and narrowed my eyes as I scanned his room.

  Okay, what was I looking for?

  The problem was, I had no idea. What would he keep that would hang him? What was even something worth hiding? Braddox walked around town like he owned the damn place. In truth, he partially did. The swagger was earned, or at least a birthright.

  “Where would you keep things, Braddox?” I whispered to the empty room.

  His walnut bed had a sleigh-style headboard and foot board. The size of the bed was massive. Easily a king but I had to wonder if it was one of those special sized kings – like the Montana. The bed easily took up the far wall and was covered in blues and greens on the duvets and other bedding.

  The room didn’t seem dark and ominous like I used to think. At least not with the light of day spilling through the uncurtained windows. He had two windows, one on either side of a large flat screen television mounted on the wall. Shelves inserted into the wall held a bank of Blu-ray movies and more technology, probably surround sound tech and more.

  What I needed wouldn’t be there. No. He wouldn’t leave it out in the open. He didn’t trust maids or anyone else. But was he the type to use drawers? I doubted it. Braddox was more into the discreet. He wouldn’t do something that obvious. But then what would he try?

  I cast my gaze around the room, trying to take note of anything that might be different or seem out of place.

  Then I noticed the door that wasn’t to his closet, or the bathroom, or the hallway. Why would he need another door? Honestly, how many doors did one asshole need?