Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2)

by Sabrina Stark

I'd just finished leaving another message on her dad's cell phone when I heard the steady beat of techno music, growing louder with every second. I glanced up just in time to see a huge white SUV squeal up to the curb. It had dark tinted windows and bright gold rims that kept turning even after the car stopped.

  The rear passenger door flew open, and a body tumbled out. It rolled a couple of times, then stopped, face down on the sidewalk just a few feet away from where I stood.

  I watched, in frozen shock as the SUV squealed off, leaving whoever – definitely a man – lying there on the concrete.

  "Oh my God." Without thinking, I rushed over to crouch beside him. "Are you okay?"

  He wore no shirt, no socks, no shoes, just some dark running pants. I saw spiky dark hair and the body of someone I guessed to be in their twenties, at least based on his physique, which was embarrassingly magnificent.

  Instantly, I took in the hard lines and sinewy muscle. And bruises. And blood. And – I swallowed – cigarette burns all up and down his arms.

  I looked frantically for signs of life. "Somebody help!" I called.

  It was stupid really, considering I was the only one out there. Tentatively, I reached out for his hand. Was he breathing? Did he have a pulse?

  My own pulse was jumping so much, I couldn't be sure of anything. "Help!" I yelled again. "Somebody's hurt over here!"

  And then he spoke in a groggy masculine voice with just the barest hint of humor. "No," he mumbled. "I'm good."

  I heard myself gasp. At least he was alive. It was better than I feared, given the blood pooling around his head.

  "Uh," I stammered. "I, uh, I don't think you're exactly alright."

  Desperately, I looked around. Where the hell was everybody? But I knew exactly where. I'd been at the hospital for the last couple of hours. I'd seen plenty of people inside, or lingering by the front entrance, or even near the emergency room doors.

  This door was next to the dumpsters. No one wanted to hang out here. But that's exactly why I'd picked this spot in the first place, for some privacy.

  I pulled out my phone. "Hang on. I'll call for help." I started to dial 911, and was immediately struck by the sheer stupidity of it. They'd just send an ambulance, which would take him to a hospital.

  He was at the hospital. "Wait here," I said. "I'll get help."

  "No. Wait," he said in that same groggy voice.

  "What?"

  With a small groan, he lifted his head and turned it in my direction. "Don't go."

  He couldn’t be serious. He needed help. "Don't worry. I'll be right back. With help. I promise."

  At this, he gave me such a piercing look that I felt my own gaze shift from his swollen eyes to the rest of his face. It was covered in so much blood that I felt the color drain from my own.

  "No. Stay," he said. "Please."

  Did he think he was going to die? Maybe he didn't want to die alone? I tried to keep my voice calm. For his sake. Still, when I spoke, it came out as a ragged croak. "What happened? Were you shot or something?"

  At this, he laughed. Seriously laughed. "That bad, huh?" The laughter died abruptly when it was replaced by a choking fit.

  At this, I went into full panic mode. "Help!" I yelled. "C'mon! Someone's hurt over here! Please? We need help!"

  But nobody came. I was afraid to leave him. And more afraid of what might happen if I didn't.

  His lips moved. "Stop."

  "Stop what?"

  His mouth moved, like he was trying to form a smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. "Stop yelling."

  In spite of everything, I felt vaguely insulted. I'd been yelling for his sake, after all. I was still holding his hand. "Then I'll be right back," I said, pulling away.

  Somehow, he managed to grab my wrist. For someone in such rough shape, the grip was amazingly strong. "Don't tell," he said.

  I stared at him. "Don't tell what?"

  "Anything. Whatever you saw, it didn't happen."

  Frantically, I looked around. Was he talking about the white SUV?

  "Stairs. Fell down 'em. No big deal." He rolled onto his side and clutched his stomach. "Be fine in a minute." A spasm shook his body, and his eyes fluttered shut.

  Shit.

  I leapt to my feet. "You hang on, I mean it!" I told him. A waste of words, really. It was pretty obvious he couldn’t hear much of anything. With a final glance at his scarily still body, I sprinted around the side of the hospital, heading full speed toward the emergency room entrance.

  Chapter 64

  Three hours later, I sat beside him in a not-so-private hospital room. He had a whole bunch of injuries – broken ribs, head trauma, and just enough internal damage to make them talk about operating.

  But they didn't.

  They'd checked him for identification. He had none. They'd asked his name. He couldn't answer.

  For the dubious privilege of staying by his side, I told one little lie. That one lie led to another. And another after that.

  Before I knew it, I was filling out forms, answering questions, talking to doctors, and holding his hand like a real sister might.

  Except I didn't feel like a sister.

  I felt like an interloper. A fraud. And something else. The something else was complicated – wrapped up in guilt for not getting help sooner and tinged with something I didn't want to think about. Curiosity? Concern?

  I imagined his face, free of bruises, blood and bandages. I still had no idea what he actually looked like. I hadn't seen him. Not really. But I wanted to. And that's when I identified that mysterious something.

  Longing.

  Here was a guy who laughed – literally laughed – after getting beat almost to death and dumped onto the sidewalk. Some days, I had a hard time laughing at all. But I needed to. If not for me, then definitely for my younger brother. He deserved that.

  Sure, my mom wasn't around much, and my dad was dating someone who hated kids. Well, his kids anyway. But we were doing alright. At least compared to this guy.

  When he woke up, all hell would break loose. The name I'd given wasn't real, and neither was the address. If I wasn't gone by the time he woke up, I'd be in some serious trouble.

  Until that point, I watched him as he lay there, heavily bandaged, and even more heavily sedated. I talked to him in whispers, relaying every silly thing I could think of. Stories about my Polish grandmother, cartoons I'd read in the paper, ridiculous things my little brother liked to say.

  If this guy were awake, he'd be bored out of his mind. But for now, he was John Livingston of Maple Drive, and he was utterly fascinated with everything I said.

  And I kept my promise. Except for some made-up history, I told them nothing. Insurance? No idea. Medical history, didn't know. If nothing else, these things at least were the absolute truth.

  Some sister I was.

  I'd fallen asleep in the chair next to his bed when my cell phone buzzed. I answered with a hushed hello.

  "You still at the hospital?" It was Erika.

  "Yeah, why?"

  "A heads-up," she said. "My parents are there looking for you."

  "Really? Why?"

  "My guess? They're heading on that cruise tomorrow. And they want to thank you before they leave."

  "Thank me? For what?"

  She laughed. "For saving their beloved daughter's life, of course."

  "Oh shut up," I said. "I just gave you a ride." And I would have given her a ride home too, if her latest boyfriend hadn't shown up to reclaim that honor.

  "Yeah. Just kidding," she said. "Actually, they want to give you a birthday present. You know, the big eighteen."

  Neither one of us mentioned what my parents had gotten Erika. Nothing. But she couldn’t feel too bad. They hadn't gotten me anything either. "Awww…they didn't have to do that," I said.

  "Yeah, well you know how they are."

  I did. They were amazing, slightly overprotective and maybe a little extravagant, but one-hundred percent wonderful. If I didn't lov
e Erika like a sister, I might've been consumed by jealousy. When it came to parents, she won the jackpot. Me? I got the booby prize. Two of them, actually.

  "Anyway," Erika said, "They're at the hospital now."

  "Really? They're here?" I felt myself stiffen. "What'd you tell them?"

  "About your mystery man?" she said. "Nothing. I just mentioned you were visiting a friend."

  "Well, he might be a mystery man," I said, "but he's definitely not mine."

  "Whatever. I'm just mad that your story's more interesting than mine is."

  I rolled my eyes. "You don't think totaling a Porsche is interesting?"

  "Not the way I did it," she said.

  I saw her point. It's not like she was drag-racing. She'd left the car in neutral at the top of her parent's steep driveway. She'd also forgotten about the parking brake. The car rolled down the drive, drifted onto the street, and got T-boned by a dump truck.

  She wouldn't have been injured at all if she hadn't tripped on the driveway chasing after it.

  "You know what?" I said. "Come to think of it, your story's way more interesting

  "Stupid's more like it," she said. "Hey, I just got a text. They're in the cafeteria. They wanna know if you can meet them there."

  I glanced at the guy in the bed. He hadn't moved. "Tell them I'm on the way." When I disconnected the call, I reached out for the mystery guy's hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "I'll be back in a few minutes." I made myself smile. "Don't go anywhere, alright?"

  The joke was lame, but it wasn't any lamer than the story of Josh's imaginary friend. Humor heals, right? Even bad humor? Shaking my head, I left the room and headed three floors down to the cafeteria.

  I returned with a ruby pendant, way too extravagant, but impossible to refuse – and not because I hadn't tried. But I couldn’t help but smile as I felt the ruby resting against my skin.

  But as I returned to that hospital room, I felt my smile fade.

  He was gone.

  Chapter 65

  As I sat in a totally different hospital, under a totally different scenario, I thought again of that mystery guy, trying to assemble the pieces in some way that made sense. That was how long ago? Five years?

  That had to be just a month or two before Lawton had rocketed to fame and eventual fortune, all starting with some Internet video of a gritty back-alley fight. I'd seen that fight myself, with Lawton in all his tattooed glory, beating the living crap out of some guy who'd supposedly been unbeatable.

  Unbeatable. The thought made me frown. Supposedly, Lawton had never lost a fight either. But on that very first night, something terrible had happened. The injuries, I might've chalked up to a fight gone wrong, but the cigarette burns made no sense at all.

  So what had happened?

  Thinking about it, I must've dozed off, because I jumped in my chair when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I whipped around to see Bishop, standing just behind me.

  "Oh," I said. "It's you."

  He glanced toward Lawton. "Is he alright?"

  I nodded. "Mostly."

  Bishop shook his head. "What a dumb-ass."

  "Hey!" I said. "That's not very nice."

  He gave me a look. "Just so you know, I talked with the nurse."

  "Oh." I cleared my throat. "So, uh, she told on me, huh?"

  "Pretty much."

  "How'd you find out he was here?" I asked. "I would've called, but I didn't know how to reach you."

  "Eh, heard it through the grapevine," he said.

  "What grapevine?"

  He shrugged. "So he gorged on seafood, huh?"

  I nodded, feeling my eyes water just a little. "Here, I just thought he hated it," I said.

  "Of course he hates it." Bishop flicked his gaze toward Lawton. "Look what it does to him."

  "But why on Earth would he do something like that?" I said.

  Bishop gave me a deadpan look. "My guess? He didn't want to see you hurt."

  "But you don't even know what happened," I said.

  "It's not hard to figure out. Here, lemme guess. And you can tell me how close I am."

  I crossed my arms. "Alright. Go ahead."

  "For whatever reason, it was either you or him. Or maybe it was either someone you care about, or him. Either way, he took the bullet so you didn't have to."

  "It wasn't a bullet," I said. "It was oyster gravy."

  Bishop made a face. "Is that real?"

  "Unfortunately."

  "How much did he eat?" Bishop said.

  I glanced at Lawton. "A lot."

  "Well, that's love for ya." Bishop shook his head. "Poor bastard."

  "Hey!"

  He shrugged. "I'm just saying."

  I gave him a look. "So how about you? Haven't you ever been in love before?"

  He glanced at Lawton, and then back at me. His voice was oddly quiet. "Yeah. Once."

  "What happened?" I asked, suddenly curious.

  Bishop was silent a few beats. And then, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and slid something out of an interior pocket. It looked like a playing card, all folded up in a neat little square.

  "What's that?" I said.

  Silently, he handed it over. The creases were worn and the pattern was scuffed. Taking it from his cool hands, I had the feeling it had been handled a lot, and folded often.

  Careful not to mangle it worse than it already was, I unfolded the card and studied the image. Obviously, it hadn't come from a regular card deck.

  "Is this a tarot card?" I said.

  He nodded.

  I studied the image. "The Fool? Is this supposed to be you?"

  He gave a humorless laugh. "No. Not if I can help it."

  And then, I heard a groggy voice from the direction of the hospital bed. "Damn it. For the last time, just go find her already, will ya?"

  Chapter 66

  A half hour later, Bishop stood to leave. The three of us had spent the last thirty minutes talking, a lot about what happened at dinner, and a little about the very first time Lawton and I had met.

  "So you're Hospital Girl," Bishop said. He glanced at Lawton. "You could've mentioned that."

  "Why?" Lawton said. "So you could spend another five years giving me a hard time? No thanks."

  "Hospital Girl?" I said.

  Lawton gave a sheepish grin. "I didn't know your real name."

  "Well, you could've mentioned it to me," I said. "I never gave you a hard time."

  Bishop made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

  "Hey," I said. "I didn't. Much."

  I turned back to Lawton. "So why didn't you tell me?"

  "Maybe," he said, "I wanted you to love me, not that guy on the sidewalk."

  I rolled my eyes. "Because the guy on the sidewalk lost a fight? Lawton, don't you get it? Win, lose, it doesn't matter. I don't love you because of what you do or what you have. I love you because of who you are."

  Lawton grinned. "You wanna say that again?"

  "That's it," Bishop said. "I'm gonna go get your car. See ya in a few days."

  "Um, actually," I said, "I think I lost his keys."

  "Not a problem," Bishop said.

  "So you've got a spare?" I said.

  "Something like that."

  "Hey," Lawton called out to Bishop, when he was halfway to the door. "Have 'em drop a car in visitor's parking, will ya? Something low-key."

  Nodding, Bishop walked out the door, silently, just like he'd come.

  "He's kind of scary," I said.

  "Baby," Lawton said, "you don't know the half of it."

  "Speaking of which." I turned to face him. "Since you're incapacitated…"

  He raised his eyebrows. "Incapacitated? That's what you think, huh?"

  I gave it some thought. I'd seen him walk away from a different hospital looking far worse than this. "Hey, I'll take what I can get." I gave him a stern look. "Time to answer some questions, mister."

  "Oh yeah?
Like what?"

  I glanced toward the door that Bishop had just walked out of. "Just what is it that you two are involved in?"

  His smile faded. "What do you mean?"

  "Oh c'mon," I said. "Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I mean. You've got this bullet-proof car and all kinds of weird skills—"

  "Like what?"

  "Well, like getting into locked houses, for starters."

  "Oh that."

  "Yeah. That."

  "Sorry," he said. "I can't tell you."

  Silently, I studied his face. He didn't look sorry.

  "Why not?" I said.

  "Because I've taken an oath."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh please. Do I look dumb to you?"

  "No," he said. "What you look is so damn beautiful, it hurts just to look at you."

  "Now you're just sucking up."

  "Yeah. But that doesn't mean it's not true."

  "Are you ever gonna tell me?" I said.

  "Yup."

  "So why won't you now?"

  "Because we're not married." He grinned. "Yet."

  My lips twitched. "Yet?"

  "A guy can hope, right?"

  "C'mon, be serious."

  "You think I'm not?"

  "Honestly?" I said. "I'm not sure."

  He grinned. "Good. Because whatever happens, I'm gonna do it right. Because you deserve it, and a hell of a lot more."

  My knees were trembling, and I was having a hard time focusing. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? And if so, how did I feel about that? I heard a giggle. Oh God, it was coming from me. My face blazing, I slapped both hands over my mouth and tried to look serious.

  Lawton reached up, gently tugging my elbow until I tumbled down next to him, lying with him in the hospital bed, shoes and all.

  I was laughing so hard, I couldn't stop. "You're gonna get me trouble," I said.

  "From who?" he asked.

  "The nurse."

  "Eh, if she gives you a hard time, we'll just leave."

  "You can't do that," I said.

  "Why not? We'll just walk out and take care of the paperwork later."

  I believed him, too. "So tell me," I said. "What happened that night we first met? Obviously, you lost a fight, but–"

  He shook his head. "I didn't lose."

  "But I saw you," I said. "No offense, but you were a mess. If you won, then the other guy must've ended up dead."