Twisted Fate (Twisted Fate Series Book 1)

by Emery Jacobs

  “Just go and hurry your ass up so you don’t get caught,” he says.

  I almost trip over my feet as I rush toward the door. Managing to keep my balance, I make it outside onto the porch. Staggering down the steps, I search for a petite dark haired beauty in a black dress. I see movement out of the corner of my eye, but I realize it’s not her when I hear a male voice followed by female laughter. Maybe she’s in Ryker’s truck waiting, but it’s not parked here. There’s not much room for parking and every space is full. No truck in sight. He probably parked down the street. As I turn to walk down the hill toward the other galleries, the sound of a female clearing her throat stops me in my tracks. It’s her. She’s leaning against a tree on the edge of the property.

  “Jovie?” I ask before approaching her.

  “It’s me,” she says.

  I walk over toward the tree, giving her enough space so I don’t make her feel uncomfortable. But she’s still close, so close I feel her breath on my face. She’s quiet and composed. Her breathing is steady. It makes me wonder whether or not she took something to bring her back down to this level of calmness. I need to talk—tell her what’s weighing on my mind. But I don’t have a lot of time. Ryker will be out any minute and take her away… with him.

  “Hey, you okay?” I ask.

  “Of course, I’m okay, Jack. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “When you took off earlier, I was afraid you were having another one of those… you know, like you did the first night I met you.” Damn, I’m an idiot. I still don’t know what to say to her. My tongue trips over words as if I’ve never spoken to anyone before. She needs to know that I only want to help.

  “It’s called an anxiety attack. And yes, I did have one earlier, but the good news is they usually only last about ten minutes. A lot of time not nearly that long. Then I’m fine until the next one.”

  “Anxiety?”

  “Yes, it is caused by—well, things out of my control. Look, Jack, I would rather not discuss this with you right now. I just want to go home.”

  “Jack?” I step away from Jovie turning to face the sound of the male voice. I know who it is before my eyes meet his.

  “I’m leaving. Just stopping by to check on Jovie. You know, since she’s out here alone. Just wanted to be sure she’s okay.”

  “She’s fine,” Ryker says. Then he redirects his attention to Jovie before I have the chance to speak.

  “I’m sorry about tonight. Really wanted you to have fun because I know you’re busy and don’t get out much,” he says to Jovie.

  “I did have a good time. It’s the most fun I’ve had… well… since I can remember. Please don’t blame yourself, Ryker,” she says.

  Yeah, I’m the third wheel. Imposing on their privacy or whatever, but I’m not walking away until they leave, or they ask me to go. Yes, I know this is a dick move… again.

  Ryker clasps Jovie’s hand with his. She pushes off the tree and they walk several feet away, leaving me standing alone. Like an idiot. I guess this is my cue to leave. I really want to go back in to discuss the night with Fish, but I’m not ready to walk away from her. They inch further away so I decide just to let it go tonight and head home.

  I pull my keys out of my pocket and proceed down the incline toward my Jeep. Once I arrive at my ride, I turn back a little to get one last look at the couple before I head out. Jovie wraps her hands around his neck and leans in for a hug. When she pulls back, he kisses her slowly on the cheek before backing away. Her hands release his neck and slide down his arms until their hands lock together. I shake my head with agitation, disgust, or jealousy. Hell, I don’t even know at this point. I just need to go—because I don’t want to watch them leave together. I climb into the Jeep, start the ignition, and roll down the window.

  I find comfort in the fact that I know tonight’s date was more than likely a fix-up. Her roommate is dating Ryker’s cousin. Besides, she didn’t really seem that into him. What the fuck am I doing? Why do I care?

  A hand slams on the panel of my open window startling me out my current thoughts and bringing me back to the here and now.

  “Ivy’s gone. She wasn’t in the restroom or anywhere else in the house. I don’t know why she left or how she got home, but you need to fix whatever broke between you two tonight,” Ryker says.

  “There’s nothing to fix. It’s all good,” I say. She needs to tell him about our situation. I’m not going there with her brother.

  “She called me before I got back outside. Dad’s in the ER again. He had another flare up with his lungs. So mom called an ambulance. Anyway, she’s at the hospital now with my parents. I’m heading that way,” he says.

  “What about Jovie? Where is she?”

  “Naomi and Stone are still inside. They offered to give her a ride home. I would take her myself, but the hospital is only four blocks over. She didn’t want me to have to go out of my way. You know, she’s fucking great. If things go as well on our second date, then maybe we can double with you and Ivy.”

  I nod in agreement before saying, “Yeah, maybe.” No. Never happening.

  Other than that last statement, my night just got a whole lot better. Jovie’s still here and her date is leaving. I try to hold back a smile, but it’s difficult.

  “Hope your dad’s all right, man. Tell Ivy I’ll catch up with her tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” he says as he walks down the hill toward the parking lot.

  I wait. And wait. Until Ryker is no longer in sight. After rolling up my window, I open the door and jump out. This is wrong. So wrong.

  I walk back toward the gallery. No Jovie standing near the tree. I bet she’s back inside. As I make my way up the steps, I spot her. Leaning against the wall near the entrance.

  “Hey, I thought you’d be inside with Naomi.” She’s beautiful. If I could only get my shit together. Maybe I could help her with whatever is causing her to have all of this anxiety. Honestly, it would take a lot more than just getting my shit together to fix someone else.

  “Nope, I find it more calming out here. Alone.” She looks away.

  “I take that as a hint for me to leave. Am I right?” I ask.

  “Do whatever you want, Jack. Leave—stay—it’s totally up to you.”

  “Why don’t you let me take you home so you’re not stuck waiting. There are still a lot of people here, and Naomi and Stone may be a while.”

  “After the few times we’ve been together, do you honestly believe I want to be alone with you again?”

  “Look, you’re right. I’m a total jerk. Not to mention that I suck at apologizing. Just give me one more chance. I promise I’ll take you home and that’s it. No staring into your eyes, no accusing you of being someone else, and absolutely no kissing.”

  “No kissing?” Her face flushes a light shade of red.

  “Nope. No kissing.” I smile and wink.

  She slowly walks toward me. And when she stops, her lips are near mine.

  “No kissing, Jack. Are you sure about that.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth before looking down.

  What the fuck is she doing to me? My dick decides to push against my pants. Out. He wants out, but that’s not happening tonight. Or anytime soon with her.

  “Yes. I’m positive. So, you ready to go?” I ask.

  She lifts her head, looking into my brown eyes with her glassy blue ones. Shit. Did I hurt her feelings again? Surely, she’s not gonna cry. I don’t do crying. She takes a deep breath and smiles.

  “Okay, let’s get out of here,” she says before she turns and walks toward my Jeep.

  She makes her way around to the passenger side and pulls the door open.

  “Wait, there’s something I forgot to ask when I offered you a ride home.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can you drive?”

  “Of course, I can. You know that. You’ve seen my car. Actually, you’re quite familiar with the hood.” Those glassy eyes are glaring now. Directly at me.
/>
  “I didn’t mean can you. I guess I meant will you?”

  “Will I drive?”

  “That’s the question,” I mumble loud enough for her to hear.

  “Why? It’s your Jeep and plus, I’ve never driven anything this big, but you know that. You’ve seen my car.”

  “Just keep throwing daggers, Jovie. I was wrong for leaving you on the hood of the car that night. I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. Because there aren’t enough ways to say ‘I’m sorry’ to make up for what I did.” I hang my head.

  She leaves the passengers door open and walks around to where I’m standing. She holds her hand out in front of me with her palm facing up.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

  I reach into my pocket, grab my keys, and gently place them in her hand.

  “This is kinda crazy, but if you insist on me driving, then that’s your business,” she says as she walks around to the driver’s side. We both climb in, latch our seatbelts, and are on our way.

  We ride in silence the whole way to her apartment. I didn’t try to start a conversation, but I wasn’t the only one. She didn’t speak or even look my direction one time.

  I can’t let tonight end like this, but before I can think of the right thing to say, she asks, “So why did you want me to drive? I’ve been racking my brain this entire time and can’t figure it out. I know you drive, so why not tonight. You’re not drunk. I don’t smell alcohol, so I don’t think you had anything to drink. I just think it’s kind of weird.”

  “It’s a long story. One that I would rather not talk about tonight. You know how you don’t want to talk about your anxiety episodes with me?”

  “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll see you around.” She opens the door and hops out before walking toward apartment 126A. She stops just a few feet away from her door and turns to face me. God, what is it about this chick? She takes my fucking breath away.

  “Thanks for getting me home safely,” she says.

  “You’re welcome. And Jovie…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I truly am sorry about… everything.”

  She smiles before turning toward her door and walking inside.

  Chapter 16

  Jovie

  Emerald Forest Cemetery. The final resting place of my sister. I hate it when people say shit like that. Final resting place. The only thing resting here is what’s left of her decaying body. I’m really hoping I can do this. Dr. Birch wanted me to come here—to visit my deceased sibling. Those are her words, not mine. She says it will help with the closure bullshit. And if this doesn’t work, then she will refer me to a psychiatrist for medication therapy. Yay for me! Medicated is the one thing I don’t want, but if it stops the suffering, then I’m about ready to say bring on the drugs. All I’m asking for is normalcy. An ordinary life. Too much to ask for? I’m tired of living every day in fear. Because to be honest, the fear of when the anxiety will strike again is causing me a multitude of problems. I barely eat. Sleep is a luxury. School is school and my grades are suffering. I spend most of my time alone because I don’t want anyone else to witness my crazy.

  “Do you want me to go with you to the gravesite?” Layla asks.

  Dr. Birch recommended I not come here alone. So, I did what I should’ve done in the beginning. I told Layla. Everything. I told her the truth about the attacks before leaving Brownsboro and about the recent ones. As if that wasn’t enough, I let my mouth overflow about Jack, the hood of my car, him making me drive myself home while he rode beside me, and about Ivy—queen of the bitches. I even threw in the part about her running a close second to Ivy in the bitch department. My little truth session made me feel a bit guilty, but it worked. She understood and apologized. I seem to be getting a lot of apologies lately.

  “Yes, please. If you’ll just walk with me and wait back a little ways so I can have privacy, but also, know you’re still near.”

  “Anything you want. I’m here for you. You’re my best friend, Jovie. I love you.”

  She smiles as we both get out of my car. I pull the folded paper out of my pocket. The directions to her grave. I’ve only been here once. The day she was buried. After that, my parents never let me come back. They come every year on her birthday. But never talk about it. I often wonder if they talk about her to each other.

  Last week, I called my mom to ask her where the cemetery was located. She raised seven kinds of hell. She said me visiting the gravesite was a mistake. It would only make my anxiety worse and blah, blah, blah. So I hung up on her. Then I called my dad. He went through the same bullshit speech as she had, but he gave me the name and the number of the man who takes care of her grave. Told me to call him for directions. So that’s what I did. Mr. Robert Estes, the gravesite keeper of my one and only deceased sibling, told me everything I needed to know.

  “I know you do. And I love you, too. Thank you.” She falls behind me letting me get several steps ahead of her. I glance over my shoulder and say, “I don’t even remember the date she died. I mean, I remember the day and everything, but I don’t know the date. I was so young and my parents, well, they never brought it up. The only date ever discussed was her birthday. Because they fly out here every year on that day.”

  “Don’t you feel guilty—not even for a second. You were only a kid. Your life fell apart, and you had no one to pick up the pieces. Besides, you’ll know the date once we get there. It’ll be on the tombstone.”

  “Oh yeah. I completely forgot. See? I am so glad you’re here with me. Things are better already.”

  I look down at the directions and continue my hike up slope after slope until I arrive at my destination. As I wrap my arms around my waist, I drop to my knees. October 25, 2008. The day I lost my sister and my best friend. Sissy. Just as it says on the tombstone. Mom and Dad put it there for me. Yet never allowed me to see it. So now I’m here, putting the pieces of my life back together bit by bit. I place my hand on the tombstone and lower my head.

  “Why did you leave me?” Tears stream down my face as I take in a ragged breath.

  “I’ve needed you so many times. Like now. I’m falling apart. Alone,” I bellow.

  “You said you loved me. I was a little girl and hung onto every promise you made. And then you were gone. Taking every promise with you. You left one night and never came home.”

  I tilt my head back and take in a deep breath. I gasp and then scream. I’m straining to pull air into my lungs. They’re not working. My lungs—I can’t get any air. My chest is heavy. Something is happening to me. And it doesn’t feel like anxiety. It feels like death. I’m dying.

  “Breathe, just breathe,” I chant.

  “One, two, three, four, five.” It’s not working. I’m not getting better. I need help—please.

  “Layla… Layla,” I scream before everything goes black.

  * * * * *

  I’m breathing. Inhale then exhale. I place my hand on my chest. It rises and falls. I’m alive. Where am I? I’m lying on something rough. Sandpaper? I pry my eyes open—darkness is surrounding me. I’m greeted with nothing but an annoying beeping noise.

  “Layla, are you here? Layla,” I mumble.

  Movement from the back corner of the room gives me reassurance that someone is here.

  “I’m here. Do you want the light on?” she asks.

  “Yes, please. Where am I?”

  “The hospital. Are you feeling okay?” Layla asks as she turns the overhead light on.

  Brightness fills the dull room. Gray walls and a curtain separates me from the hallway.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Why am I here?” I look at Layla. She looks exhausted. No makeup, sweatpants, t-shirt, and her hair on top of her head in a messy bun.

  “You fainted at the cemetery. I called the ambulance because I was so scared. I couldn’t get you to wake up. I thought you were dead,” she utters.

  Her eyes are red and swollen. I can tell she’s been crying. Because of
me. I feel terrible for this whole ordeal.

  “Am I in a room? Why is there a curtain for the door?”

  “You’re in the ER. The nurse told me to get her when you wake up so the doctor can come in. I think he’s gonna let you go home.”

  “Why did I pass out? What’s wrong with me?”

  “The doctor said you were dehydrated. That’s why you have an IV in your hand. For the fluids. He said dehydration combined with the anxiety probably caused you to faint. They gave you something to sleep and ran some tests. Everything is okay. He also said you should take better care of yourself. But that’s no secret, right?”

  I nod and stretch my arms above my head.

  “Will you get the nurse so we can leave?” I ask.

  “Sure. I’m ready to get out of this place, too. Oh, just so you know, I called your parents. I was scared not to call them. They want you to call them so they can decide whether they need to fly out. I told them no, but your mom freaked out. So, if you don’t give her a call, she’ll probably be here in the morning.”

  “Great, just what I need. More freaking stress. You know how she is,” I say.

  Layla walks into the hallway and returns shortly with a tall, slender middle-aged woman—the nurse who is in charge of my care. The doctor comes in shortly after. They both go over the same stuff Layla had already told me. He gives me a prescription for Xanax, tells me to follow up with my psychologist, and possibly a psychiatrist.

  Once I’m home, I fall into my bed and cry. I cry for my sister, for my mom and dad, and for myself. The tears fall and fall and fall. Until there’s no more. I want to be free from the fear that chases me daily.

  Layla and I decide to tuck this day away and not speak of it ever again.

  Tomorrow will be better.

  It has to be.

  Chapter 17

  Jovie

  “Sabrina just sat someone in the back booth—of your section.” I glance to the right as Naomi walks by. Sabrina is the hostess and obviously, an idiot. My shift is almost over. What’s wrong with her?