Rewriting Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC #1)

by Shelly Morgan

  ***

  When I got back to school after Thanksgiving break, I pulled Gunnar aside and told him it wasn’t working between us. I never mentioned I found out about him and Sophie and he didn’t say anything either. I think deep down he knew this was coming regardless of what happened between them. He didn’t argue with me or even ask me to reconsider, he just said that he understood and hoped we could still be friends. What is it with guys and saying “Let’s still be friends?” Regardless, I told him I’d really like that and left it. I didn’t want to get into an argument or go into detail with him; I only wanted to move on with my day and get through the rest of the school year.

  I didn’t go to any more parties, and I barely left my room. Gram kept asking if I was all right, but finally gave up when I would say I was fine. She knew there was something wrong, but figured I would talk about it when I was ready. I never wanted to talk about what happened between me and Zane, though. I was stuck between wanting to forget it ever happened and wanting to relive those few moments over and over again when he was mine.

  It took us a while to get back to even a fraction of the friendship we had before, but we’re slowly getting there. It will never be the same, but I’ve found that I’m becoming even better at pretending. We never talked about that night, just left it in the past. He’s only been back once since then, at Christmas, and let’s say that we brought a whole new meaning to the word awkward.

  As much as I miss the way we used to be, I don’t think I could go back to that even if I tried. Knowing what could have been and remembering the way he tasted makes that hard, but at least I still have him in my life and that’s all that matters in the end.

  Today’s the last day of school and Gunnar has been asking if I’ll come to his graduation party. It took us a while, but we have come to be good friends. I don’t really want to go to the party, but since I’ve grown close to both him and Jaxon, I feel like I need to.

  Jaxon got a full football scholarship at the University of California and Gunnar got a full baseball scholarship to the University of Florida. He’s excited to go back to his hometown and play the sport he loves. I think he may actually go pro, he’s that good. I’m proud of both of them, and decide to go to the party and have a good time, even if it kills me.

  ***

  By the time I make it out to the lake, the party is in full swing. I’m wearing a pair of holey jeans and what has become my signature black tank top and black combat boots. Since the last party I went to, the night before Thanksgiving, I’ve found I’ve been wearing a lot of black. I guess it fits my mood better than anything else.

  Jaxon and Gunnar stop me immediately, one with a red Solo cup filled with beer and the other with a bottle of Jack. Yup, these boys know how I like it.

  “Hey, Cupcake. It’s about time you got here. Now the party can really begin!” Jaxon says as he pulls me into a hug. He’s taken to calling me Cupcake lately, and though it’s a little weird, I don’t mind it.

  Once he lets me go, Gunnar pulls me in for a hug.

  “Yeah, sorry I’m late.” I wanted to make sure my grandmother was in bed before leaving. She has been getting worse lately, but still refuses to go to the doctor. But if she isn’t better by next week, I’ll drag her there if I have to. I hate feeling like I’m slowly losing her and there is nothing I can do.

  We sit by the fire, passing around the bottle of Jack and sipping our beers. We talk about stupid, unimportant shit, not wanting to talk about anything of significance. I’m not in the mood to talk, so I let them do most of the talking. They don’t push me and don’t seem to mind my lack of keeping up my part of the conversation. I’m letting them do most of the talking anyway, not in the mood to keep up with my part of the conversation. Eventually they start talking about how excited they are to go to college and I space off, not wanting to think about them leaving soon.

  After about an hour of sitting and drinking, Sophie comes over and plops herself down on Gunnar’s lap. They started dating about a month after we broke up. I’m really happy for him; they seem to make a great couple. Though Sophie is going to school in New York, they want to try and make things work. I honestly do wish them the best and hope it works.

  Mary, Sophie’s friend, walks up behind Jaxon and starts to rub his shoulders. Not sure what the deal is with those two, but they seem to always be hot and cold. One week they are all over each other, and the next they want nothing to do with each other. Unfortunately, tonight is a night that the former option is true. Not wanting to be the fifth wheel and witness such gross public displays of affection, I get up and head over to the keg for a refill. Once my cup is full, I turn around to survey the party. There are a lot of people here, but they all seem to be coupled up. I don’t want to spend the night watching people practically fuck in front of me, so I down my beer and decide to call it a night and go home.

  I walk over to Gunnar and Jaxon and tell them goodnight. They are a little upset, but once I tell them I’m heading home to make sure Gram is okay, they let me pass. It also helps that Sophie and Mary are both distracting them with lap dances. Yup, it’s time to head home.

  Once I walk in the door, I make my way to my grandmother’s room to check in on her, then head up to my room. I change into my pajamas and slip into bed. As I’m staring up at the ceiling, my phone pings.

  Zane: Hey, Baby Girl, how was your last day of school?

  Me: Same shit, different day. You coming home for the summer at all?

  I know he won’t, because it seems he never has the time to make it home anymore, but I can’t help but ask. Hope can sometimes be a bitch. Plus, I figure if I get a heads up, I can make sure my walls are up.

  Zane: I may be home here and there, but have a lot going on here. I’ll let you know as soon as I know more.

  Me: All right. I’m going to bed, talk later.

  Zane: Okay, Baby Girl, sleep good.

  I hate that one night has seemed to ruin everything we built over the years. I wonder if we will ever be the same again.

  That night, I dream of the days when Zeke was still alive and all the fun the three of us had. It’s the first dream that I’ve had of him that I haven’t woken up from screaming. I wish I had more dreams like this. As much as I miss Zeke, I think I miss Zane more, which is crazy considering the difference between the two; Zeke can never come back and Zane chooses not to. There’s something about missing someone even though they are right there with you that makes it worse.

  ***

  Five Months Later

  It’s the last day before Thanksgiving break of my senior year of high school. I’ve applied to and been accepted to a bunch of schools, but I’m going to go to the community college here in town. Gram has only gotten worse over the months, and the doctors haven’t been able to tell her what is wrong, so I've decided to stay close so I can take care of her. It’s the least I can do after all she has done for me, plus, it will help me out too. I won’t have to stay in the dorms or find an apartment that is close.

  After school, I stop at the grocery store to grab some last-minute items for our dinner tomorrow and then head home. I put everything away and start making the pies. Once I get those in the oven, I make grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for supper and bring a bowl to Gram’s room. She’s been spending the majority of her time in bed, but will sometimes come out and sit in the living room. I wish there was something I could do for her; I hate seeing her like this. Her skin has become pale and since she doesn’t eat much anymore, her face seems almost sunken in. Every time I look at her I want to cry.

  I clean up the pie and supper mess, then head upstairs to take a nice long bath. I want to go to bed early tonight. As I pass my desk, I see my sketch pad. I haven’t had much inspiration to draw lately, which makes me even sadder. Drawing has always been my escape, my passion. And lately, I really need an escape, so I pick it up and carry it over to my bed. I lie down, open to a fresh page, and can only stare at it. I have no idea what to draw.
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br />   After staring at the paper for over ten minutes with no ideas, I start to doodle instead. I hate doodling, and only do it when I'm in class, but I think that's all I’m going to get out tonight. Oh well, there is always tomorrow for inspiration to hit me.

  I put my supplies away a little while later, crawl into bed, and think about the last year. Things have changed so much that I barely even recognize myself. Last year around this time, I was heading to a party, not knowing that the next day my world would come crashing down around me. I wish I could go back and change what happened. As much as I don’t want to, I would, knowing that it inevitably caused me to lose Zane. I would have never turned my phone off so he wouldn’t have worried about me and driven all the way here for one night full of regrets. I’d rather not know what it felt like to be in his arms and his lips on mine than know what it was like and then be crushed even more when I lost it all. That’s the last thought I have before I drift into a dreamless sleep.

  ***

  April 5—My Eighteenth Birthday

  I wake up a little earlier than usual, get in the shower, and decide to take a little extra time on my appearance. I haven’t gotten dressed up or given much thought to my looks for a while. I mean, what’s the point? I don’t have a boyfriend, Zane is no longer around, and I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. But since it is my eighteenth birthday, I want to go the extra mile. Maybe if I look better, I will feel better.

  I shave my legs and wash my hair, then grab my towel and get started on my long locks. It’s going to take me at least a half an hour to blow dry it. Then I want to curl it to give it some texture before putting it in a ponytail.

  With my hair dry, I turn on the curling iron and walk into the closet to pick out my outfit. I'm not sure if I should go with my new favorite style of the darker, edgier look, or if I want to soften it up and wear a dress. I decide to stick to my new look because it makes me feel better about myself, so I grab a pair of skinny jeans with a couple holes in them and a white tank top. I pair it with the new leather jacket I bought last week with the money my grandmother gave me for my birthday. Now I just need to decide whether I want to wear my combat boots or heels. Since I’m going to do my hair and makeup extra special, I decide to wear my black heels.

  I walk back into the bathroom to curl my hair and put on my makeup. I still want to keep it on the darker side, but not as edgy as I have been doing. I do a dark smoky eye shadow, line my eyes with eyeliner, use a generous amount of mascara, and put on red lipstick to make everything pop. I take one more look in the mirror before I put on my heels, grab my book bag off my desk, and head downstairs.

  The first thing I notice is that Gram is still in bed. I wish there were more I could do for her, but it doesn’t seem like she is getting any better. Instead of waking her up, I let her sleep. I write a note and leave it on the table to let her know I’ll see her after school, then head out the door.

  No one at school knows that it’s my birthday today because there isn’t really anyone that I talk to anymore. I make it through the whole day without anyone finding out, but do get a few lingering gazes from the guys and some hateful stares from a couple of the girls, no doubt because of the stares I’m getting from the male population. I don’t even let it faze me because I’ll be done with school in a little over a month’s time. Then most of these people will be going off to university, while I stay here and go to community college.

  I could have gone to any college I wanted, never needing to worry about money to pay for tuition since my sperm donor has a college fund for me. But I don’t want to use that money—blood money is what it feels like. Gram asked why I didn’t go to one of the other schools I was accepted into, but I showed her how great the art program was here so she’d back off. It really is a nice school.

  When I arrive home, I don’t see my grandmother anywhere.

  “Gram, are you here?” I call out as I walk into the kitchen for some water. She isn’t home, so I run upstairs to put my bag away. After I do a quick check in the mirror, I head back downstairs to see what we can do for supper. I would love to go out to eat, but I doubt she’ll feel up to it. Maybe I could order a pizza and have it delivered. We could pop some popcorn later and then watch a movie.

  An hour later, she walks in the door with a bag that looks to be from the pharmacy.

  “Hey, Gram, whatcha got there?” I walk over to take the bag from her, but she shakes her head and pats me on the hand.

  “I’ve got it, sweetheart, but thank you. Happy birthday, by the way! Why didn’t you wake me before you left for school? I would have made you a special breakfast.”

  I give her a quick hug, follow her into the kitchen, and jump up to sit on the counter. “That’s okay, Gram, I was running late anyway,” I lie.

  “Well, what would you like for dinner, then? I bought cake mix to make your favorite cake,” she says with a smile.

  “Mmm, can we just have cake for supper?” I ask like I am five years old again.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “No, we cannot, young lady. Now go upstairs and get cleaned up. I’ll figure out what to make you for dinner.”

  I jump down and start walking out the door, but turn around when I remember what I wanted to do. “Actually, I was hoping we could maybe order in pizza and then watch a movie tonight.”

  She looks up from taking stuff out of the bag and I give her the special smile that I used to give her when I was young and wanted to get away with something. She could never resist that smile.

  “Okay, sweetheart, whatever you want. Why don’t you call in the pizza in and I’ll start the cake?”

  I run up the stairs and grab my phone off the charger as soon I close the door. I eagerly look down, hoping to see a missed call or at least a text message from Zane, but there’s nothing. I sit on my bed and stare at my phone. I can no longer keep the disappointment and heartache at bay. If he was going to wish me a happy birthday at all, he would have by now. Last year I only got a text message, and now I don’t even get that. I know things have been different between us since what happened, but to completely forget about my birthday? And my eighteenth birthday at that? I don’t think I can do this anymore. It may be time to let him go completely.

  I go back downstairs when the pizza arrives, but no longer have a smile on my face. I feel tired now. My grandmother and I sit at the table and quietly eat. She can tell something is wrong, but thankfully doesn't say anything.

  I barely taste my cake, and make up the excuse that I am starting to get a headache so I can just go to bed. I should feel bad for skipping out on her, but I honestly can’t even make myself care. I am so tired and want to be done with everything. I cry myself to sleep that night. But hey, it’s my birthday and I can cry if I want to.

  Chapter 10

  May 30—Graduation Day

  I wake up early to make a big breakfast. I want to try and be happy today, if only for my grandmother. Since my birthday, I’ve hardly spoken, and I know she is starting to worry about me. I need to forget about everything that happened. I mean, so what if Zane never told me happy birthday? Not like we’ve really talked that much lately anyway. Actually, we haven’t talked at all since a couple weeks before my birthday. I was going to text him a million times, ask him what is happening to us? How could he forget my birthday? Why can’t he love me? But there’s no point. I just need to move on with my life, and if he doesn’t want to be a part of it, then that’s on him.

  As I’m putting the last piece of French toast on a platter, my grandmother walks in. “Good morning, Gram,” I say in what I hope is a cheery voice. “I made us some breakfast. I hope you’re hungry. It’s going to be a big day today!” I smile as I look up at her and almost drop the platter of food. The woman in front of me doesn’t look like my grandmother at all. She’s even paler this morning and seems to be holding on to the counter like she doesn’t trust she can stand on her own.

  “Gram, are you okay?” I say, more scared than I care to adm
it. I walk over and take her arm to help her to the table so she can sit down. Once she’s settled, it still takes her a couple moments to get her bearings and to catch her breath.

  Finally, she pats my hand, which is still hanging on to her for dear life, and gives me a weak smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart. I think I just overdid it a bit, picking up my room this morning. I’ll be fine after I rest for a minute.”

  For some reason, I don’t believe her. It seems no matter what she does or doesn’t do, she keeps getting worse and worse. Something is most certainly wrong with her, and I need to find out what it is. “Gram, you should have told me and I would have picked up your room for you later. You don’t need to be working yourself so hard. That’s what I’m here for.” I walk to the sink to get her a glass of water.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, child. I’m more than capable of cleaning my own room. Plus, you have more things to worry about today than your old grandmother.”

  I know it won’t do any good to argue with her, so I’m going to have to do a better job of making sure everything is done so she doesn’t have to do it. I’ll sneak into her room if I have to. I drop the subject and sit down to eat my breakfast.

  “What time do you need to be at the school for the ceremony today?” she asks me before she picks up her fork to take a small bite of her food. I know exactly what she’s going to do before she does it. She’ll chew what little bit is in her mouth, then put her fork down and take a drink of her juice. Then she’ll pick the fork up again to start cutting the rest of her meal, and then she’ll just push it around until I’m done. She will then try to get up to take my plate, which will then jump start my argument that I will take care of the dishes. Then she’ll dump her plate and insist on helping till I kick her out of the kitchen. Every time we sit down for a meal, it’s the same thing. No wonder she doesn’t have energy for anything; she never eats, but Heaven forbid if I argue with her about it. I know I should push more, but there’s really no use. At least she snacks during the day, so she’s getting some nutrients.