Rewriting Destiny
Forsaken Sinners MC Series:
Book One/Prequel
By Shelly Morgan
Rewriting Destiny
Copyright © 2015 by Shelly Morgan.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: February 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-508-7
ISBN-10: 1-68058-508-8
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my mother—
You have always stood behind me, no matter what I did. Thank you for always having faith in me and being my number one fan.
Love you, Mommy!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Danielle
My mother died when I was three years old.
She had a complicated pregnancy with me and was diagnosed with cervical cancer soon after I was born. The prognosis was terminal. They said she wouldn’t make it to see my first birthday, but she was a fighter and made it longer than anyone thought possible. Just not long enough for me to grow up with a mother, or even long enough for me to build one single solid memory of her.
After she died, my dad couldn’t handle being a single father with a toddler, or maybe he was a shitty parent to begin with. Either way, he signed his rights over to my grandmother and never looked back. My grandma was one of my aces, though. Even though she was really old and didn’t have the energy to take care of a child, she was determined that I have a good childhood and not wind up somewhere in the system. And even though I wasn’t able to do all the things that kids my age got to do since she didn’t have the energy to do them with me, she loved me fiercely and that’s all that matters in the end.
The only good thing you could say my father did was send money every month to my grandmother to help care for me. What money she didn’t use was put into a savings account for when I graduated high school. He also set me up with a trust fund that I would have access to when I turned eighteen, to use to go to college or for whatever. How nice of him, right? Yeah…
I don’t know much about my father, but my grandmother used to tell me stories about my mom. At first it hurt too much to hear about her, because even though I don't remember her, I missed the idea of having her as my mother. I mean, what child wouldn’t miss having a mother, even one they never knew?
My mother’s name was Melissa Rose DeChenne, and she was beautiful, with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that could light up even the darkest of days. She met my father in her freshman year of college and fell hopelessly in love. They were married a year later, and found out they were pregnant with me shortly after. According to Gram, he loved her very much and was good to her. But he became broken when she died, and wanted something better for me. Not sure if that’s the truth, or if she was only trying to make it so I wouldn’t hate him all my life. Regardless, even if he loved my mother and treated her like a queen, he still left me and I’ll never forgive him for that.
I've seen pictures of my mother and father when they were together, and I can see how happy they were. It makes my heart ache to think about what my life would have been like if she hadn't died. If she was still here, maybe my father wouldn’t have left and I wouldn’t feel so broken.
Every time I look at those pictures, I try to memorize their faces: my mother’s so I never forget her, and my father’s so if I ever see him one day, I can turn around and walk away from him like he did to me. But I don’t have to try very hard to memorize his face; I see a lot of him whenever I look in the mirror. I have long, thick brown hair and deep green eyes like him. And I had to have gotten my five-foot-six height from him, because in the pictures I’ve seen, my mother seems tiny. She can’t have been taller than five-foot-two. Then there’s my strong jawline, high cheekbones, and olive skin, which no doubt came from him. The only things that I can see I got from my mother are her bright smile and her small nose.
When I was thirteen, the Hendrickses moved in next door to me and my grandmother. They were two boys that became my best friends, my only friends, really. Zane was fifteen and his brother Zeke was seventeen. I remember always seeing them in their back yard tossing the football around. You could tell by looking at them that they were close. Zane looked up to his brother, but Zeke looked at his little brother like he was his best friend.
Our friendship began one day when Gram had to go run a couple of errands, so she sent me over to their house. I was a little shy and didn’t know what to do at first, but Zane just handed me the football and proceeded to teach me the game and the rest is history. Even though I was younger than both of them, they accepted me. I would go over to their house practically every day. After a while, it almost seemed like I was their little sister since I was there so much. I learned a lot that year from them both; Zane taught me everything there is to know about football, and Zeke taught me a little about motorcycles.
I didn’t have much to offer the trio that we were, but I always listened to what they wanted to tell me or what they were trying to teach me. The only thing I shared with them was my love for art. They found me doodling one day and asked me about it. After that, they would always challenge me to draw different things, and they would get harder and harder. I think drawing for them was better than any art class someone my age could have taken. They were very supportive and always honest about what they thought of a drawing. Zeke in particular would always say how amazing my talent was, and encouraged me to be proud of what I drew. He told me that I could make a career out of it, and from that day on, I knew I was going to go to college and major in art. That’s pretty impressive, if you ask me. How many thirteen-year-olds know what they want to go to college for?
Zeke graduated the following year and decided he was going to join the Marines. Everyone was very supportive and happy he was going to be doing something so selfless. Well, everyone except for Zane. Of course he was proud of his big brother in most ways, but he was worried Zeke would get hurt and upset because they had plans to go to the same college, University of Texas, to play football together. Then they would spend a couple of years riding cross country on their motorcycles. I think aside from not knowing if he’d be safe, he was upset that Zeke was going off to do something without him. They always did everything together, so when he decided to change those plans and do something for himself first, that would take some getting used to for Zane.
&n
bsp; To be honest, I was scared shitless too, but I never showed my fear to either of them. I didn’t want to seem like a big baby, plus Zeke had other things to think about. He didn’t need to worry about me too. So whenever it was mentioned, I would smile and tell him how proud of him and excited I was. That he’d always be my hero, but now he’d be everyone’s hero as well.
I went with them the day Zeke left to start his training. We had breakfast at a family diner close to the bus stop and then waited with him until it was time for him to leave. I remember sitting in one of those hard chairs that are attached to the floor, not looking at him or saying anything. I didn’t want him to leave, but I was also afraid I would say something that might make him stay. He wanted to do this, so I wouldn’t be the person to make him feel bad about this decision.
Once we saw the bus pull up outside, his parents and Zane got up to tell him goodbye. When he was done, Zeke knelt down in front of me and pulled his old worn football he and Zane always played with out of his bag. “Will you hang on to this while I’m gone?”
I looked down at the football, then back up to him. “You want me to keep it?” I whispered. I wasn’t sure why he would give it to me and not his brother.
“Yeah, what do ya say? Only until I get back, though.”
I gave him a small smile and reached out to take the football from him. “Okay.”
As my tears started to fall, he smiled at us, then turned around and got on the bus, giving one final wave.
Four months later, he informed us that he was getting deployed to Iraq. We drove to Houston for his sending away ceremony to see him off. It was very emotional. There were so many families there saying their goodbyes to their loved ones. Lots of tears were shed.
During the time Zeke was gone, Zane and I made sure to play catch with the football at least a couple times a week. Then I’d tell him about the letters I was writing to his brother and I’d show him the pictures I drew for him. He’d talk about being on the high school football team and how he couldn’t wait to go to college to play. Then he’d tell me about the plans he was making for when Zeke got back to the States. That’s what they would talk about on the phone when Zeke was able to call home. It helped Zane to know his brother still wanted to carry out all those things they planned on doing before; it would just take a little longer to do them.
On a Tuesday, eight months after Zeke was deployed, I came home from school and Gram was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. “Danielle, can you come sit down for a minute, please?” she asked. I did a double take and really looked at her. She looked upset about something, so I walked over to the table and took her hand as I sat.
“What’s wrong, Gram?” I hoped she wasn’t getting sick again. It seemed like she was sick more often than not nowadays.
“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you about something,” she told me in a low voice.
I sat there and waited for her to tell me what was going on so I could get over to Zane’s. I wanted to show him the picture I drew for Zeke this week. He loved my drawings. He was my biggest fan actually, so I tried to send him a drawing at least once a month. My grandmother broke me out of my thoughts.
“Miranda came over this afternoon.” Miranda was Zane’s mom, so I was trying to think of what she would come over to talk to my grandmother about.
“I’ve been good and haven’t caused any problems when I’m over at their house. I swear, Gram.” That was the only thing I could come up with for why she would come over to talk to my grandmother, but I always made a point to be good when I was there, because I didn’t want to risk not being allowed back.
“No, sweetheart, I know. That’s not why she came over.” She paused for a minute and put her head down. I was starting to get a really bad feeling. Whatever the reason for her visit, it couldn't be good. “Danielle, she had some news about Zeke,” she said as she looked up at me.
I smiled. “Does he get to come home early? I should go over and talk with Zane, we can plan a party for him.” I got up to run over there, excitement taking over, but before I got to the door, Gram stood up on shaky legs and stopped me.
“Danielle, no. I’m sorry, but he’s not coming home.” She had tears in her eyes.
“O-Okay…Well, I guess it’s only a couple more months till he’ll be home anyway,” I told her, still not understanding why she looked so upset. I could wait a couple more months. Or maybe Miranda had news that when he got home he’d be stationed somewhere else in the States. I wasn’t really sure how the military works, but we could plan trips to go see him wherever he was.
“Sweetheart, listen, something happened….” she started with a broken sob, but I shook my head.
“No, Gram. No! Don’t say it! He’s coming home!” I shouted, finally beginning to understand. I could feel the tears coming, but I wouldn’t let them fall. He was fine and he was coming home. He promised he would come home. I got a letter from him a couple days ago and talked to him on the phone last week.
“Danielle, something happened. There was an accident…Baby, he’s gone, I’m so sorry,” she finally finished, with tears rolling down her cheeks.
I shook my head again, which made my tears overflow. “No! You’re lying!” I yelled and turned to run up to my room. By the time I got to the top of the stairs, my tears were falling so fast that I could barely see where I was going. Zeke was gone; he was never coming back. I would never see him again or get to hear him say he loved me like a little sister and that my drawings were amazing. I’d never be able to give him his football back. Zane would never get to play football at college with his brother. Oh no, Zane!
I ran down the stairs and out the door before my grandmother could stop me. I had to get to him and be there for him. He would be devastated!
I ran over to Zane’s house and banged on the door. I waited a minute, but no one answered. Where were they? I knocked again, but still no one came. I started to walk back to my house to grab my phone to call him when I smelled it. Smoke. It was coming from the back yard.
I walked back to see what was going on. As I got closer, the smell got stronger. Someone was definitely burning something. Once I cleared the fence and walked into their back yard, I spotted him. Zane was sitting on the ground by the fire pit, tossing in what looked like papers. I walked over and saw what he was burning.
“Zane, what are you doing?” I asked, wiping the tears off my face. I had to be strong for him; he needed me now more than ever.
He didn’t answer or even glance my way, so I sat down and looked at the stack of papers about the University of Texas sitting in front of him. He was taking them one by one, crumbling each into a ball and throwing it into the flames. He’d wait till it was nothing but ashes before he’d repeat the action.
“What are you doing?” I asked again.
Instead of answering me, he grabbed the whole stack and threw them all into the fire. Then, finally, he turned to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, but no tears fell.
“Why did you burn the information you got about playing football at the University, Zane?” My voice broke at the end, but I continued on. “You got those with Zeke before he left.”
“He was supposed to come home and meet me there. We had it all planned out; did you know that? I’d be in my third year when he would’ve gotten out, but he was going to enter the open tryouts. And he would have made the team too, because he was an even better player than I am. But now that’s never going to happen. He just had to go and sign up to be a Marine. He couldn’t stay here and do what we both talked about for years. He ruined everything!” he yelled at the end. After a couple of calming breaths, he continued, “He’s not coming home, so I’m not going…how can I go without him?” He started angry, but by that last sentence, it was barely a whisper. He looked so broken and defeated.
I reached over and took his hand. “You have to go, Zane; he would want that for you.”
He stared at me, not even blinking. He finally looked away and said, “I’m not
sure if I can. Without him, there is nothing there for me.”
A single tear slipped down his cheek. I reached up and wiped it away, then turned his head so he was looking at me again. “I know it’s hard right now to see it this way, but I know that he wouldn’t have wanted you to quit. You have to go, Zane, if not for yourself, then go for him. He may no longer be able to be here with us the way we want him to be, but he’ll always be with us in our hearts. Play for him.” I don’t know where my words of wisdom came from, but they flowed out of me and felt like the right thing to say.
We sat there for an unmeasurable amount of time, staring at each other. We didn’t have to say anything else, because there was nothing else to say in that moment. I squeezed his hand, then got up and walked back over to my house. I cried myself to sleep that night.
The next couple of months were hard, having to attend the funeral and learning how to go on without Zeke. Things started to get better, though. It was gradual, but what do you expect? Zane and I started to hang out more. We leaned on each other to help with the loss we shared. Losing Zeke was devastating for both of us, but I think in the end it brought us closer. We started hanging out every day after school, tossing the football around, talking about my drawings and the bike he wanted to buy for his upcoming birthday, and going out on the town. Zane become my best friend, and we forged an unbreakable bond.
After he finishes his senior year in a couple months, he will be going to the University of Texas like he and Zeke always talked about. I’m going to miss him a lot, but I’m so happy that he will be living out their dream. He seems more at peace with his decision to go to college since he went back for a tour of the campus a couple weeks ago.
***
I just finished with Zane’s graduation present and plan to give it to him tonight. I’m so nervous, unsure what he will think. After his brother died, I decided I wanted to draw a memorial for him. Zeke always liked my drawings, so doing this for Zane only seemed right. And since he’s turned eighteen and has been talking about getting a tattoo, I decided a design for a tattoo would be perfect.
Rewriting Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC #1) Page 1