Double Trouble (Troublemaker Book 2)

by Cassie Mae

“Yeah. We’re here to tease you and tickle you and tell you when you’re being silly and give it to you straight.”

  “And we’re also here to love you no matter what.” I pick her chin up. “So whatever you choose, if it’s really what you want for you, I got your back. But just so you know… I’ll probably fight for you.”

  She lets out a snotty laugh, then pulls Pete in to share our hug. It only lasts a split second before it turns to a couch pillow fight and spilled lasagna, but I’ll remember the feeling of that hug for the rest of my life.

  I tap my knuckles against the back door of Troublemakers, gazing over my shoulder as a car passes by. Tanner’s been sneaking me in after hours for weeks now, but it doesn’t stop the crazy butterflies from flying all around my belly every time I do this.

  I lean against the railing, thumping my fingers on my helmet to the beat of Darth Vader’s anthem. Talking with Pete alleviated some of the stress piled on my shoulders, and I think my session today will go a lot smoother. Maybe I’ll even try landing the hardflip.

  The familiar click of the heavy metal door handle echoes in the night, and I wince at the noise, jutting my eyes across the empty parking lot before quickly slipping inside. I’m immediately wrapped in warm, strong arms, Tanner’s hand running up the side of my face. His thumb caresses my jaw, and I grin in the dim light.

  “Hey, boyfriend.”

  “Hey.”

  He bends, boxing me in with a soft press of his lips. The giddy girl inside of me squeals at the fact that he’s kissing me; he’s making the move first.

  His lips leave mine slowly, and he continues to hold my face close, like I’m somehow this lost treasure he’s been looking for all his life. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt hanging loose on his sides. I feel a smile against my forehead before he plants another brief kiss there.

  “Is it weird to say I missed you?” I ask. “I mean, I just saw you.”

  He chuckles against me. “I missed you, too. That’s why I let you in.”

  I lift my gaze to meet his. “Candace still here?”

  “She’s doing her last rounds.” He taps my board with his toe. “You’ll have to wait a few minutes before rolling out.”

  “Whatever shall we do with our extra time?” I tease, and he takes the hint, giving my lips the attention they so love from him.

  Ten minutes or an hour later, who the hell knows, Tanner peeks out into the Wheel Zone and gives the all clear. I strap my helmet on, and he helps start up my GoPro.

  “You gonna try the hardflip?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Think you should.” He smirks. “Show stopper.”

  He misses the roll of my eyes, ducking for his camera. I push off and coast onto the course. Time for the warm up. I do simple things, rolling up and down the smaller ramps and then maneuvering into some ollies. I save the flip tricks until I know my legs are good and ready for them.

  Tanner records in silence, moving around me and the course—sitting down, standing up, crouching… After seeing what he did with the footage we already had, I have one hundred percent faith that he knows what he’s doing.

  Wanting to give him something good, I push hard off the floor, skyrocketing the board toward the bar he stands at the far end of. I throw him a smirk before flipping the board up and sliding the worn and reliable wood across the metal. The sound cuts through the air like a chef slicing vegetables on a cutting board—smooth, yet bumpy.

  I land with a clap, the wheels meeting the ground like they are meant to.

  “Gorgeous,” Tanner says, and I laugh. His ears go red, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean for me to hear the compliment, but I’m happy I did.

  After a few more tricks, I take a deep breath and stop the board at the top of a small quarter pipe. “You ready for an epic fail?” I warn him.

  He gives me a thumbs up, and even though I’m not ready, I push off and roll into the trick. I pop the backend of the board, getting the height I need, but I know halfway through I’m not gonna land it. I bail, letting the Millennium Falcon clatter and smack my shin. I roll to my back, hissing through my teeth as I rub out the pain.

  “You all right?” Tanner says, quickly putting the camera down and rushing toward me. I stick my hand out.

  “I’m good. I’ll try again.”

  Thank heavens he’s a boarder. He nods and gets the camera ready instead of coddling me. Bumps, falls, bruises… they’re all part of the game. I just need to master this stupid trick.

  I blow out another breath and take another shot at it. And another. One of those times I accidentally do a laser, but Tanner says it looked pretty awesome.

  “Maybe I’ll just stick with that!” I joke, skating to the other end of the course to get some speed. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, I land it.

  “Yeah!” Tanner fistpumps the air, and then I get rewarded with a kiss before I roll away to do another one. I land that one, too. And the next one. And the one after that.

  My heart soars as I get into a groove, landing every single one of those hardflips. Not only those, but I gear up for a gazelle, landing that one on the first try. I move into a fakie beta flip, landing that one. I’m about ready to go for an impossible, but I wanna give the hardflip another test run.

  I use the quarter pipe for momentum again, then speed into the trick. My board slices through the air like butter, and I soar above it as it swirls below me, my feet finding their position firm and stable as I slam back to the ground. The wheels pull me toward Tanner, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish.

  Perfect.

  “I… think you got it, Brink.” His hands slowly come down, making the camera point at the floor. “They’re idiots if they don’t sign you.”

  This energy and adrenaline mixes in my chest, pumping my heart, pulling the corners of my lips upward. I’m sweaty and breathy and I don’t give a single crap about it. I push my mouth against his anyway, celebrating in my own way of finally—finally—landing this thing.

  He kisses me back, hard and firm, then lifts me off my feet. I spin around, fist pumping the air. I’ve got this in the bag this year, I do.

  “You ready to go?” he asks after our mini celebration. I shake my head, a piece of hair sticking to my damp neck.

  “Give me a few minutes on the half-pipe?”

  He drops me to my feet, my toes landing on my board. I skate off, and he turns his back, clamping his camera closed. I’m just doing a cool down, so there’s no need to record it.

  I pop my board into my hands and climb up the far side. I roll my neck around, the smile on my face permanent. This is it. I’ve got it this time. I’ll get that sponsorship, prove to Pete, Demi, and my parents that I can take care of not just me, but my baby sister. I’ll show them all that she’s not a burden, and the best place for her is right here with me.

  And I’ll get to live my dream for however long God deems me fit for it.

  I suck in a deep inhale, my shoulders lifting to my ears and dropping with gusto. Tanner pushes up on the Troublemakers counter, grabbing a Dr. Pepper and taking a sip. His hair is wild, his t-shirt half tucked, half untucked. He bounces his feet against the counter, filling the otherwise silent room with the echo of thunk thunk thunk…

  Hell, I don’t want to cool down. I want to fly over to him and plant kisses all along his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his soft lips. I want him to know how I feel about him. I want him to know that all his faith in me, all his understanding, and all his… love… It all means so much to me.

  Determined to get to him quicker, I set the Millennium Falcon on the edge of the pipe and gear up for a drop-in—something I’ve done a million times.

  The world whizzes past my ears in the familiar way it always does when I board, and then it’s cut off abruptly, a crack slicing through the air. My stomach tumbles inside of me, flipping over and over as the world blurs and my balance is shot. My feet no longer have something to stand on, and I fly forward, stumbling to catch myself
on any solid surface, but it’s all sloped, all slick, and my feet are unreliable and wobbly.

  I catch a glimpse of horror in Tanner’s green eyes, shock freezing him in place at the other side of the half-pipe.

  Then, there’s nothing.

  My feet can’t get to Mad fast enough, and I trip and stumble my way over to the middle of the half-pipe.

  “Maddie, Maddie… oh God…” She’s not moving. Her eyes are closed. Her legs are twisted. Her helmet is busted in two, half of it still pinned to her head and the other dangling near her shoulder.

  My heart sounds in my ears, my hands shaking. I swallow hard around the lump in my throat, my knees slamming to the floor next to her.

  “Mad, wake up.” I can’t shake her. My fingers twitch to touch her, to hold her, but I don’t know what damage has been done, and it would kill me if I made it worse.

  I fumble for my phone, digging into my pocket with trembling fingers. I’m stunned that I get the numbers right the first shot.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “My girlfriend… she’s unconscious.”

  “Is she breathing? Does she have a pulse?”

  “Yes… No… I don’t know.”

  “Take a deep breath, okay?” The dispatcher does it with me. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

  “She fell off her skateboard and her helmet broke.” I hover my hand over her mouth, catching the warmth of her faint breath. “I-I’m afraid to move her, but I think she’s breathing.”

  “Good, good. You’re doing well. What’s your location, sir?”

  Shit. “Troublemakers Indoor Amusement Park. I… I work here. She was using the skate park.”

  I hear the clack of a keyboard. “We’re sending paramedics out right now.”

  “The front door is locked. We’re the only ones here. I don’t want to leave her.” I gaze down at Mad, still motionless, her body frozen in a horrifying position.

  “Is there a door close to you?”

  “The one that leads out back. By the dumpsters.” It’s not close, but I’ll run.

  “Stay on the line with me, and I will let you know when help has arrived, okay?”

  I nod, burying my face into my free hand. “She was just doing a drop-in.” A drop-in—the thing she does every day here, a million times over. She could drop-in in her sleep.

  I rip at my hair, strands breaking loose, and the sharp pain is nothing compared to the panic boiling in my gut, popping against my chest, closing my throat. Her hand rests near my knee, and I take hold of it, careful not to move any part of her body. I need her skin against mine. I need her okay. I need her to open those hazel eyes and throw out a joke, tease me about worrying so much.

  My eyes skate over her to her board, tilted on its side a few feet away. A crevice splinters the wood straight down the middle, the back left wheel missing. I knew that hunk of junk wouldn’t last much longer. I should’ve pleaded with her instead of teasing. I should’ve just given her a board and risked her getting mad. Anything would be better than this.

  The dispatcher says something, her voice low and comforting, probably so used to calming down freaked out callers. I swallow around the acid building on the back of my tongue and try to listen to her, try to answer the questions I know she’s only asking to distract me. How long has Mad been boarding, do I like my job, how long have we been together… I answer in monotones, not even sure if the answers are correct.

  “Okay, Tanner,” she says after a minute. “The paramedics are arriving. I need you to open the door for them.”

  “But she’s still not awake…”

  “They can’t break in, okay?” She tries to explain the law to me, but I’m uninterested.

  I give Mad’s hand a squeeze and whisper, “I’ll be right back.” My brain has to force my knees off the floor, and my bones crack and ache, but I push them anyway, running across the Wheel Zone and through the back hallway. I slam my hands against the horizontal bar with so much force the door swings open and bangs against the outside railing. The lights from the ambulance skitter across the parking lot.

  “She’s this way!” I yell, ripping my shoe off and stuffing it under the door to prop it open. I rush to Mad’s side, and as I kneel next to her, her eyelids twitch.

  “Brink?” I test. Another twitch. “Maddie.”

  I swear her brows pull in, giving her the smallest wrinkle over the bridge of her nose, but my gaze is torn from her as two paramedics crouch down beside her.

  “Hey, come over here, man,” a guy says, pulling me to my feet. I stand lopsided next to him, one shoe on, one still under the outside door. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  I blink, my brain too slow to answer any questions, so I shake my head.

  “You’re not hurt,” he verifies. I shake my head again and lean to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Maddie. They lift her carefully onto a stretcher, a brace settled around her neck and another on her leg.

  My voice comes back with a vengeance. “Are you taking her in? Will she be all right? Can I ride with her?”

  The paramedic leads me behind Maddie, his hand on my shoulder. I snag my shoe from under the door and slide it on before they let me hop into the ambulance with Mad. My heart stutters and falls in relief… Her eyes are open, one pupil larger than the other. She scans the ambulance, her eyes growing wider and wider until they land on me.

  “Hey,” I say lamely, pushing my way to her side. She lifts her hand, and I don’t hesitate taking it.

  “What… what happened?”

  I try to quirk a smile, but the prickles of relieved tears pressing against the backs of my eyeballs probably don’t help my case. “That hunk of junk you call a skateboard lost a wheel and cracked.”

  She lets out an off-sounding laugh. “No, you’re a hunk of junk.”

  I lift a brow. The paramedic sitting near her head nods in my direction. “She’s got a concussion. Pretty bad one, from the looks of it. She’ll probably be a bit incoherent for a while.”

  “My mom told me that,” Mad says.

  “Told you what?” I ask.

  “What?”

  I meet the paramedic’s eye, and she gives me a look like “I told you.”

  I squeeze Mad’s hand and kiss her knuckles, resting on the edge of the stretcher as we bump our way to the hospital. The corner of her mouth lifts as she studies me with a vacant stare.

  “I love you,” she slurs.

  My eyes widen, and I lift my head. “You do, huh?”

  “Yep.” She nods. “But I can’t tell you yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Her eyes drift closed, and her voice comes out in a whisper. “I don’t know anymore.”

  The paramedic snaps her fingers in front of Mad’s face. “Maddie, you can’t sleep right now.”

  “But… so tired.”

  “Stay awake for me.” When Maddie’s eyes stay closed, the paramedic gives her a sternum rub. She gets a death glare and a lazy bat of Mad’s hand.

  “Fine.” Mad turns to me. “Keep me awake.”

  “No pressure, huh?”

  “You could kiss me.”

  “Probably not the time.” I nod to her neck brace. “Even though you look so sexy in that.”

  She snorts, then coughs, choking on her laughter. She spews a few more non-sensible things, like how much she likes my eyes and how she wants to swim in a pool of my hair. The paramedic suppresses a grin the entire way to the hospital, and my cheeks flare up like the sun.

  They wheel her into a room, and I get stuck at check-in with a buttload of paperwork. The worst part is when they ask who’ll be covering the cost—Mad’s insurance or Troublemakers. Boy, am I in some deep shit. I gulp and shake my head at the forms, leaving those spots blank.

  A doctor comes out and says they’re taking her in for a CT, and she wants me there with her. I follow his long strides toward the room and find Mad in a wheelchair, hospital gown, and blanket.

  “Hey, boyfriend,” s
he says almost normally. Fear powders her voice, her eyes red-rimmed. I crouch next to her chair and take her hand, pressing my lips to her palm.

  “Hey.”

  “They say my brain is broken.”

  “Just a bump.” I run a hand up and down her forearm. “You’re gonna be okay.”

  She gulps and gives me the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. “Is this just a bump, too?” She points to her leg and slowly, she eases the blanket from her lap.

  A black boot covers her right leg from knee to toe. Dark purple peeks out from the top, spilling across her skin in scary waves. The shock resonates in my gut, and I beg myself to keep my face composed for her. Do it for her. She needs to see me relieved that there’s not more damage, that she’s still alive. But when I lift my eyes and see the stray tear falling down her cheek, I can’t hide how I feel.

  The sound of her dream crashing and shattering is so loud I’m surprised no one else can hear it. All they hear are the beeps and intercom noises of an emergency room. But Mad and I… it’s an explosion so big I’m not sure either one of us will recover.

  Mad’s grin greets me as she lands her twentieth hardflip for the night. We celebrate, her body up against mine as I spin her around, my camera long forgotten. I knew she could land it. I knew it wasn’t impossible, and I want to make fun of her for being so skeptical, but her lips are on mine, and all teasing is lost.

  The edges of my vision turn hazy, transforming on the spot. Mad’s face twists in horror, her smile lost to a dark shadow that passes over our heads.

  The thud and rumble of a thick wooden door slamming against the drywall jolts me from my nightmare, and I shoot upright in the chair next to Mad’s bed.

  A chink of curtain hangers gliding on the metal rod fill the room, and Pete’s face appears. His eyes land on his sister, who is awake and suppressing a grin at her brother’s entrance.

  “She’s okay,” I rush out, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. A sharp stab of pain skyrockets through my neck.

  Pete’s shoulders deflate, but his jaw clenches when his gaze turns to me. I jerk back from the hate in his eyes, the fear, the anger—things I’ve never seen in his eyes till this day, and you couldn’t pay me to see them again.