All Your Firsts (All Or Nothing #1)
1. One
One
Rosie
A n overwhelming sense of dread courses through my veins as I silently implore the universe to spare me from a tragic demise that ends with me plummeting to my death.
The lattice covered in vines on the side of the house makes it hard for my feet to find stability in my Docs. This was a whole hell of a lot easier when I was younger and twenty pounds lighter. Trembling with anxiety, I stare down at the ground from the window of my childhood bedroom on the second floor.
Just as I think I’m nearing the end of the descent and about to touch the velvety grass, I lose my balance and crash down; the impact sends a sharp jolt of pain through my ass, which quickly numbs. That will hurt like hell later. Pushing myself up from the ground, I dust off the blades of grass and release a frustrated sigh while looking around.
After retrieving my phone from my back pocket, its screen illuminates my face with dim light, exposing a glaring crack across the front .
Lovely. This trip home has turned into a nightmare.
Glancing at the clock, I’m hit with the realization that I’ve let valuable time slip away. With the guard’s rotation ending in approximately seven minutes, this is my only opportunity to escape undetected.
If Papa learns our home is left unguarded and unprotected for even fifteen minutes during the late hours of the night, his reaction will be swift and severe. I’ve seen people lose their head for far less at his command.
I carefully navigate the house’s exterior, using the cover of nightfall and the occasional shrubbery to conceal my movements. As I make my way past the kitchen, my steps falter at the sight of my mama sitting with a glass of wine in her hand and a book resting on her lap. Waves of emotion rise in my chest, making it hard to breathe, and tears threaten to spill from my eyes.
My leaving will upset her, but deep down, I believe she’ll understand. She always has. I press my hand against the cold glass. I love you, and I’m sorry. With one last glance, I continue my trek around the house, leaving her behind.
In my haste, I almost overlook the next window, its soft light creating what would be an ethereal glow on the grass if I didn’t know the darkness that lurked in this room.
I pause, pressing my back against the cold brick wall of the house. I cover my erratic, beating heart with my hand and inhale deeply. This is the last room I must pass without being detected, inching me closer to my long-awaited freedom.
Peeking through the window, I see my father sitting behind his desk. His back is turned toward me as he holds a glass of his ever-present golden-amber liquid. With his intense stare fixed on the wall, it’s clear he’s engrossed in deep reflection, likely conjuring up new schemes to make my life miserable.
As he rises from his chair, I quickly crouch low under the window, hidden from his view.
My throat feels parched and scratchy as if it’s filled with coarse sand, while my hands are clammy and soaked with sweat. What an odd combination. I take a moment to count to three, hoping it will help me gather enough courage to continue.
It’s now or never, Rosie.
Don’t be a coward.
As I crawl past his window, I can’t bring myself to glance back inside, fearing what I might see.
I stand and sprint away as fast as I can, feeling as if the devil himself chases me.
As I run across the cold, wet grass, my gaze keeps trailing over my shoulder. The mere thought of my father finding me with a getaway bag in my hand sends shivers down my spine. I can’t give a sorry-ass excuse like ‘I’m going for a night run,’ like I did last time they caught me. I received the most severe beating I’ve ever experienced, and now I dread what an even harsher punishment would be.
While consumed with fear of the monster behind me, I fail to notice the brick wall until I collide with it.
I shriek as my ass and back hit the ground for the second time tonight.
With utter disappointment and a crushed soul, I acknowledge the truth. The exhilarating sensation of freedom’s breeze against my face will be a distant longing once they escort me back to the house .
My gaze lifts, and I’m startled to find myself locking eyes with someone I haven’t seen in years.
“Gage?” I say in confusion as I rub my eyes. Maybe the two falls so close together are messing with my eyesight. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He reaches his hand out to me. “Here.”
Slapping it away, I hoist myself up from the ground, a bit more leisurely this time since there’s no longer any urgency now that I’ve been caught.
“I see your stubbornness hasn’t changed.”
“I’m amazed you remember after disregarding me for years as if I didn’t exist.”
Gage scans the yard. “How about we talk about this somewhere else?”
“I’m not going back in there.” I point at our family home behind me with a hitch of my thumb. He will have to sedate me with a horse tranquilizer before I willingly walk back into the house.
“Neither am I. Let’s go, Ro,” Gage says, his voice carrying through the air as he turns toward the towering trees that line our tall wrought-iron fence without looking back.
I bite my lip and watch him as he continues to saunter away from me.
I don’t know if I trust him. There was a time when my trust in him surpassed the trust I had in myself. However, that was years in the past. He’s been gone for a long time, and I can see his changes from just a glance—he’s not the same brother I once adored.
His dark aura has nothing to do with his midnight-black hair or his deep ocean-blue eyes. He’s packed on muscle, has a hardness to his eyes, and lacks a smile that once shined brightly. Then there are the tattoos peeking out of his suit jacket that wind up his neck. He looks like trouble and destruction.
He halts and turns, his gaze piercing into me as I grapple with my conflicting emotions.
Can I trust him? My other brother–Gage’s twin, Marco–has been no help to me. So why would he be different?
“Time’s ticking. Alfonso will be awake soon.”
I stride toward him and murmur, “Why would he be sleeping?”
Gage just smiles, and it’s not the cheerful type of smile. It’s a malicious but satisfied smile.
“Are you done asking me questions, or do you plan on getting caught?”
“I already did.” I look at him with narrowed eyes. “By you.”
“I’m here to help you make your great escape. But we need to go now.”
“Why would you want to do that? Why now?”
“I was trapped, just as you are now. I’m here to right the wrongs of not getting you out sooner.”
Okay, not what I expected him to say.
He could be telling the truth because that sounds more like him from before. But still. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“There’s only one way to find out. Come on,” he says as he extends his hand out to me once more.
I have no other choice but to trust him. This is better than the alternative of walking back into that house and dealing with my father.
I take his hand, and together, we walk through the dense canopy of trees. He pulls me to the right, and I stop dead in my tracks .
“Is that…? Is he dead?” I whisper as the toe of my boot nudges the limp body of my father’s guard, Alfonso, his gun still holstered to his chest.
“He’s just taking a nice little nap.”
Red crimson trickles from his scalp. “Is that blood? Why’s his head bleeding?”
“How else was I going to put him to sleep?”
I look up into Gage’s soulless eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“Your savior, but if you don’t hurry, I’ll end up being your cellmate in the basement. Let’s go.”
“Peace out, Fons,” I say as I wave, giving the incapacitated guard my middle finger. He’s the one who caught me the last time I tried to escape a year ago from one of my father’s arrangement attempts.
Alfonso’s joy was evident as he brought me back and watched with a gleam in his eye as my father repeatedly struck me with his belt. The only thing that kept me from screaming was the chant I repeated in my head, hoping for them both to die a slow, painful death. History will not be repeating itself tonight.
My foot rears back and connects with his ribs with a delightful thump, but unfortunately, he doesn’t make a sound since he lies limp and unconscious.