OUTCAST: A Good Guys Novel

by Jamie Schlosser

  Flipping to the next page, I quickly scribbled out my unofficial vows meant just for her ears.

  I frequently left random notes for her around our apartment, or sometimes I hid them in one of her textbooks for her to find later.

  She kept every single one, along with the ones I’d written in high school. Tucked away in a special box, she stored them like they were sacred. And sometimes I’d catch her reading them, with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

  I wanted to keep giving that to her throughout our lives, so I tore the paper out of the sketchbook and stood up. “All done.”

  Making grabby hands at me, she came over to study the drawing. “It’s amazing. I’m definitely framing this one.”

  “And I’ll let you keep this letter after I read it to you.”

  Her expression turned sober as her gaze fell to the scrap clutched in my fingers. “But I thought we weren’t doing personalized vows. I didn’t write anything for you.”

  “How about you show me later? Actions speak louder than words, you know,” I teased.

  “Oh, I’ll show you later.” She nodded enthusiastically, and I laughed.

  But my amusement faded as I began to read.

  “Kayla, when I look back on the best times in my past, I see you. I see you, small but mighty in that desk on the first day you came to Heyworth. I see you, standing up for me, helping me when I was knocked down, accepting me for who I am. I see you, loving me when I thought no one would. Instead of focusing on what you saw on the outside, you’ve always managed to notice my heart. And by some miracle, your soul recognized mine as its other half.” I sucked in a breath to control my emotions. “You turned a damaged boy into an invincible man. When I think of the best times ahead, I picture you at my side. I don’t know what the future holds—”

  A sniffle drew my attention away from the page, and I glanced down to see Kayla tearing up. Luckily, I was prepared. Pulling out the handkerchief she’d given me once upon a time, I passed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes before I continued.

  “—But I can promise you one thing. You are, and will always be, my favorite thing about life.”

  Fanning her splotchy face, a laugh bubbled out of her lips. “Oh, yeah. I’m definitely going to show you how I feel later.”

  “Are you ready to be mine forever?” Grinning, I held out my hand.

  My smile grew wider when she took it and whispered, “Always.”

  THE END

  Note to the reader: If I’m a new-to-you author, thank you for giving OUTCAST a chance! If you’ve read the other books in the Good Guys series, you might have noticed that Ezra and Jimmy’s stories overlap. While Ezra was at the physical therapy retreat, Jimmy was trying to prove he can stay out of trouble at his Grandma Beverly’s house. If you haven’t read DROPOUT yet, you can continue reading for a sneak peek at Jimmy and Mackenna’s story!

  I have everything I need to live out my dream of being a reclusive songwriter—my guitar, my notebook, and blissful silence.

  At least, I did until Jimmy moved in next door.

  He’s got bad news written all over him. And last time I got with a bad boy, it ended with me pointing a gun and pulling the trigger.

  Talk about going out with a bang.

  Jimmy makes me want things I shouldn’t want, which means I have two options: avoid him or piss him off. But no matter what I do he isn’t fazed, and I’m quickly realizing there’s more to Jimmy than I originally thought.

  Over the past year, I’ve been called a lot of things. Slacker. Troublemaker. Party animal.

  I thought I was on top of the world. Turns out, I was pretty close to rock bottom.

  Now I have a new title: college dropout.

  But I’ve got a chance to redeem myself—one summer of squeaky-clean behavior at Grandma Beverly’s. Two months to prove I’m not a complete f*ck-up.

  And four rules to follow with the gorgeous girl next door. Rules aren’t exactly my forte, but I only plan on breaking one of them.

  I want to get back to being one of the good guys.

  Three Years Ago

  Lindsey: You’re such a bitch

  Tiffany: Everyone hates you now

  Sierra: Why are you doing this to Jaxon? I hope you don’t plan on sticking around after graduation. No one wants you here

  I blinked away the stinging in my eyes as I read over the tag-team texts from my best friends.

  Former best friends.

  Or maybe they were never my friends in the first place. Either way, it was safe to say those relationships were officially over.

  I didn’t have anything to say to them, so I started to set the phone back down on the nightstand. Another chirp stopped me. This time when I looked at the screen, Jaxon’s name showed up. I’d purposely ignored the eighteen texts he sent me tonight, but this one caught my attention.

  Jaxon: I’m outside

  My eyes flew to the window, which I knew for a fact was closed and locked. My heart raced as I tried to remember if I’d locked the front and back doors.

  I did. I was sure of it.

  I typed out a short reply.

  Me: Go home Jaxon

  Then I buried myself further under the covers, wishing the layers of warmth could keep me safe somehow.

  A few seconds later the phone rang in my hand, and I immediately pushed ‘ignore’ as I crawled out of bed.

  I held the screen to my stomach as I made my way to the window, hoping he wouldn’t see the light in the darkened room. Peeping through the curtains, I saw Jaxon’s old red Jeep sitting in the gravel driveway, and I spotted his shadowed figure in the front seat.

  My voicemail chime went off, causing me to jump a little. Reluctantly, I put the phone up to my ear while inching toward my bedroom door.

  “Who are you spreading your legs for, you filthy cunt?” Jaxon’s rage-filled voice made my breathing pick up as I tiptoed through the hallway. “Come outside or else. Don’t make me come in there. It won’t be pretty.”

  Click.

  Panic bloomed in my chest, squeezing and crushing until I struggled for air.

  Since the breakup three weeks ago, the stalking and harassment had been escalating. Jaxon followed me everywhere—to the mall, in the hallways at our high school, to my favorite coffee shop. Every time I turned around, he was there. And when he wasn’t nearby, he was calling me relentlessly.

  No matter how many times I told him it was over, he wouldn’t stop. I should’ve known he’d be watching the house, waiting for the moment I was alone and vulnerable.

  I crept into my parents’ room and dropped to my knees beside the bed. My hands shook as I attempted to open the small safe in the cabinet of the nightstand.

  The phone rang again, and I slipped up on the combination lock.

  I started over. All I needed to do was turn that dial and match up three numbers, but the trembling in my hands made it difficult.

  A breath of relief left me when the heavy door clicked open, and I reached in to wrap my fingers around the cold metal of my dad’s semi-automatic handgun. I had no intention of using it, but it made me feel better to have it.

  Just in case.

  Keeping a gun in the house wasn’t something my parents took lightly. After my dad bought it, he took my sister and me to the shooting range to learn the basics. I was a terrible shot, but I knew how to load it and make sure the safety was on, which is exactly what I did next.

  I hated weapons. I hated anything that was created for the sole purpose of inflicting pain. But I knew a gun wasn’t required to cause damage.

  Hands could be just as dangerous.

  Setting the gun on the bed, I sat down on the floor. Hugging my knees to my chest, I listened to the latest voicemail.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Jaxon cooed softly, his tone a complete opposite to the previous message. “You know I just love you so much. I can’t be without you. Do yourself a favor and listen to what I say. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Come outs
ide and see me.”

  Click.

  Another chime rang out, which meant he must have left another voicemail right after the last one. I pushed play again.

  “BITCH!” My body jolted at the outburst. “Open the fucking door. That’s it. If we’re over, then you’re dead!” he shouted. I began to hyperventilate as fear took over. “I warned you. I tried to play nice. Now I’m coming for you.”

  Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the phone in shock. Would he follow through on the threat he’d made so many times before? Despite his abusive tendencies, I never wanted to believe he was unhinged enough to kill me.

  Loud pounding on the door spurred me into action. I grabbed the gun and ran back to my room. Then I did the most cliché thing possible—I hid in my closet.

  Although the walk-in was spacious, hiding places were limited. As I settled into the far-left corner, I also remembered there was no window.

  No escape route.

  No way out.

  Not that it would’ve mattered. We lived in the middle of nowhere. This two-acre piece of land used to be my own version of heaven, but right now I felt like I was trapped on an island with a murderous psycho.

  I heard a loud thud followed by another, and I could tell Jaxon was trying to barge through the front door.

  Fumbling with my phone, I quickly dialed 9-1-1.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  Refusing to be incoherent with panic, I took a deep breath and tried to sound level-headed. “My name is Mackenna Connelly. I’m at 1715 Old Orchard Road in Daywood, Illinois. My ex-boyfriend is trying to break into my house. His name is Jaxon Meyers. I think—I know he wants to hurt me.”

  “Has he ever been violent toward you?”

  “Yes.” A choked sob escaped along with the truth.

  For the past two years, I had kept the ugly details of my relationship a secret from everyone. Admitting it out loud for the first time made all the emotions come to the surface—fear, sadness, shame.

  I should’ve told someone. My parents or a teacher. Instead, I let them believe the sudden change in my personality was due to typical teenage stuff, because I was ashamed of the truth.

  Being smart, kind, and independent didn’t make me immune to guys like Jaxon.

  Hiding the bruises on my arms with long sleeves had been easy, and if anyone ever saw I laughed it off as an accident.

  I absentmindedly rubbed at the scar by my hairline. That one hadn’t been as easy to explain.

  “Miss, are you alone?”

  “Yes,” I answered, struggling to keep my voice steady. “My parents went to a movie and my sister is at a sleepover.”

  Date night. Mom and Dad had kept the tradition of going out once a month for as long as I could remember. I’d always found it adorable, but as I watched them walk out the door earlier, I wanted nothing more than to beg them to stay home. I held it in, though. If I had asked them not to go they would’ve wanted to know why, and I didn’t want to lie to them anymore.

  Thank God my sister wasn’t home. Krista was only twelve, and the thought of her witnessing Jaxon at his worst made my stomach churn.

  “How old are you?” The operator’s voice was calm, but it did nothing to soothe me.

  “Eighteen.”

  “An officer is on the way. Are you somewhere safe?”

  The sound of glass breaking had my pulse skyrocketing and I shifted, realizing I was sitting on top of a bunch of shoes. One of my high heels dug into my thigh.

  “N—no. I’m hiding in the closet. I think he’s in the house now.” My body trembled and I tried to control my sobbing, which had turned into hiccups. I gripped the cold metal in my hand. “I have a gun. Am I allowed to use it if—if I have to?”

  “You have the right to defend yourself, but an officer is on the way.”

  “They won’t get here in time,” I told her, knowing it was the truth.

  “Can you stay on the line…?”

  Her voice faded away as I set the phone down beside me without hanging up. I needed both hands for what I was about to do.

  Inhaling a shaky breath, I flipped off the safety switch and listened for anything other than the sound of my pounding heart.

  Then Jaxon’s voice made me jump.

  “Mackenna. The games are over. Where are you?” He was just steps away from the closet. “I bet you’re in here.”

  The door opened, and even in the darkness I could see the metal bat in his hand. Moonlight from the bedroom window glinted off the shiny surface, and bile rose in my throat when I realized what he intended to do with it.

  He squared his broad shoulders before stepping into the closet, and although I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew the brown orbs were hard and cold as he looked down at me.

  “You really thought you could hide from me? I’d find you anywhere. I know the way you think.” Tapping his temple, he chuckled darkly. “I know every step you’re going to make, even before you know it yourself.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said, hiding the weapon under my leg. “You can just go home and it will be like this never even happened.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t live without you and I meant it. I’m gonna bash your fucking face in,” he slurred, swaying unsteadily on his feet. “Such a shame. It’s a pretty face.”

  Any hope of talking him down vanished. When Jaxon was drunk or high, there was no getting through to him.

  He raised the bat over his right shoulder, the way someone would when waiting for the perfect pitch. He took a practice swing, and the bat made a whoosh as it cut through the air. There was enough room for the full range of motion, but the end of the rod clipped a rack of clothing.

  Shirts, dresses, and plastic hangers clattered to the floor.

  Time seemed to stop as memories flashed through my mind.

  For some reason, I thought of a tea party I had with my stuffed animals one summer afternoon when I was five. Stargazing with my mom when I was thirteen. The time I went car shopping with my dad and I begged him for that pink sports car, but he said no. I remembered how pissed I’d been. How I’d pouted all the way home like a spoiled child.

  And now I’d give anything to go back to that day to tell him I was sorry, to tell him the blue Buick with low mileage was the right choice. In the long run, I would’ve hated having a pink car.

  All the memories were so simple. The small events of daily life somehow became the most important in the forefront of my mind.

  And I wanted a million more of those insignificant moments.

  Suddenly, the inner strength that Jaxon had tried so hard to snuff out reared up inside of me. Fear turned into anger. Sadness turned into rage.

  I was fucking pissed.

  This couldn’t be the end. I couldn’t die huddled in the corner of a closet with a stiletto poking me in the ass.

  “I love you so fucking much,” Jaxon said quietly, lifting the bat.

  Before he could take another step I raised my shaking hand, pointed the gun, and pulled the trigger.

  Present Day

  I heaved out a sigh as I dropped the large box onto my bed. That was the last of it. The last of the belongings I’d taken to college with me.

  It felt like yesterday I was packing up my stuff, excited for what would come next in life. I’d had big plans. I was confident, cocky, and completely unprepared for the responsibility and freedom that came with leaving home for the first time.

  And now here I was.

  A college dropout. A failure. A disappointment to everyone I knew, including myself.

  As I scrubbed a hand over my face, all I could do was feel shame over the past and dread about the future.

  What was I supposed to do next? I had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, but I probably needed a degree to do it.

  There would be consequences for my actions.

  And I deserved it.

  I’d had my chance and I’d blown it.

  Everything looked
the same in my childhood room. The Aerosmith poster still hung on the wall over my bed. If I flipped my black comforter over, I’d see a charred spot in the fabric—an innocent mishap from a camping trip when I got a little overzealous about roasting marshmallows.

  A shelf of trophies and ribbons decorated the opposite wall over my desk.

  I wanted to tear it down.

  Those awards represented my greatest accomplishments, but they meant nothing now. Baseball participation trophies, swim medals, and a second-place ribbon in the 8th grade spelling bee didn’t make me a success.

  A soft knock interrupted my self-loathing, and I glanced at the doorway to see Ezra. Immediately, my crappy mood improved.

  My younger brother was one of my favorite people in the world. Only a year apart in age, we grew up more like twins. We were complete opposites, though.

  While I got my dad’s dark hair and olive skin tone, Ezra was lighter like Mom with blond hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion. In fact, we looked so different some people didn’t believe us when we told them we were brothers.

  “Heard you were back,” he said with a grin.

  I smiled and went over to wrap him in a hug. Putting him at arm’s length, I observed how he’d changed since the last time I saw him.

  “You got taller,” I announced before giving him a noogie.

  Laughing, he pushed me away and went to sit down in the chair at my desk. As he made his way across the room, I noticed his uneven gait was worse than usual.

  “Your leg bothering you again?”

  Wincing, he rubbed at his left knee. “I fell at school. Twisted it a little.”

  “You fell, or someone made you fall?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. His silence was the confirmation I needed. “Who’s been fucking with you? Is it that AJ prick?”