Rebel #3
No one knew what to do as they listened to that unhinged motherfucker.
Axel ran to Rebel, and she forced her anger away to hug her little brother.
It was Ransom who moved toward Rule’s room first. His posse wouldn’t let him ride alone, so Axel pulled away from her and joined Ryder to back up Ransom.
Despite not wanting to go anywhere near her twin’s room, Rebel couldn’t stay in the hallway.
Momma needed defending against all that fucking testosterone.
Now, after escorting Momma to the room she shared with the man she married and preparing her bath, Rebel didn’t want to return to her room.
She especially didn’t want to see Rule’s room.
Or his door. Or anything that reminded her of him.
She thought about covering his doorway with a sheet.
Nothing would help, though. He was a part of her—her twin. They’d shared a womb together, came into the world together, grew up together. Rebel had protected him as much as possible.
But not enough.
Sniffling and swiping at her tears, she took the back staircase and halted. A left turn would take her to the scene of the crime. Right, and she could go anywhere. Even outside. She could go to the swings. The treehouse.
She could run and run and run, until all her pain and trauma went away. Until her Rule came back.
Except he might never return.
She dropped onto the second to last stair, leaned against the wall and sobbed. How had things fallen apart so completely?
For months, her parents had been at each other’s throats. Her brothers were lost in the idea of club life. And Rule…Rule was the casualty. He’d always been gentle and fragile and…not like them. Instead of ridicule, he’d needed help and understanding.
“Reb?”
At the sound of Kaia’s voice, she lifted her head. She’d forgotten he was somewhere in the house.
Kaia sat next to her and drew her into his arms. She sobbed harder. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“It isn’t,” Rebel said, gutted. “Nothing’s okay. Rule isn’t here. Daddy’s a fucking psycho and Momma is suffering.”
“Let’s go outside and get some fresh air.”
“If Daddy sees us together, he might kill you with the mood he’s in.”
Kaia scratched his jaw. “Does the house have any cameras?”
“They are everywhere.” She glanced up, but not seeing any telltale signs they’d already been installed along this staircase. “Not here yet.”
“What about in my room?”
“They might be. I don’t know.”
He shifted. Rebel realized he only wore frayed plaid boxers. His hair was untethered and messy, as if he’d been asleep.
Sighing, he scratched his stubbly jaw. “I had a cousin once,” he started. “I was closer to him than I was to Kayce, since Zane and me were born two days apart.”
Sounded like Uncle Johnnie and Aunt Ophelia. Cousins, born two days apart. Well, if you didn’t count their decade age difference.
“When I was ten, we snuck out of the house to go swimming. We could basically do as we pleased. Most rules were lax. Except the ones for the pool. My aunt and uncle didn’t fuck around there.
We broke every one, Reb, and he drowned.
I was teasing him for not wanting to jump in with me.
The pool lights were out. If we’d turned them on, it would’ve alerted his parents.
To this day, I don’t know what the fuck happened.
We were both good swimmers.” Elbows on knees, he leaned down and glanced over his shoulder.
“To this day, my aunt and uncle blame me. I’m an outcast to everyone except my parents and Kayce. ”
“You were a kid! They should’ve had a fucking alarm on the pool.”
“They almost divorced because their grief and guilt was so overwhelming.”
“Do you think my parents will separate because of this?”
“I don’t have a crystal ball, sweetheart. But I think you’re just like your dad. Hot-tempered, impulsive, and fearless.”
“You heard?”
He nodded. “I came up, but Diesel saw me when they were leaving and told me it wasn’t my fucking concern. CJ called him out, thanked me for coming up, and invited me in the mancave. Diesel probably would’ve poisoned me.”
She was too exhausted to broach the topic of Diesel. “I’m not apologizing to my father.”
“Didn’t think you would.”
“He’s so unfair to her.” Rebel leaned her head on Kaia’s shoulder. “Is that how it was with your aunt and uncle?”
“They blamed each other. Someone intervened, I suppose. Or, maybe, they came to their senses on their own. One tragedy tests the strongest marriage. Piled atop each other and, sometimes, the odds are insurmountable.”
“I don’t want my parents to divorce,” Rebel sniffled. “Momma loves that man so much. A fucking demon has invaded him. He’s been so sweet and kind to me while we were in the hospital—”
“But the initial catastrophe is over. You and your mom are home and Rule has been committed. Now, the hard part starts. Picking up the pieces. Do you know the five stages of grief?”
“Why would I know that?”
He grinned at her. “Right, babe. I thought it was common knowledge.”
“I’ve never had to grieve anything,” she admitted, and shrugged. “What are the stages?
“Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.”
“I suppose we’re in the angry stage. Denial is why we failed my brother.”
Taking her face between his hands, he thumbed her tears away. “You’re a strong girl, Reb. Believe that Rule is coming back. Your parents will work through this.”
“But Daddy was so mean,” she whispered.
“He’s so angry.”
“And fucking guilty.”
“A combination,” Kaia amended. “While mental health professionals are working on Rule, you recover and heal.”
“Momma needs—”
“She’s a grown woman. She’ll figure out what she needs, although one thing is you better.”
He leaned toward her. Rebel thought he’d kiss her, then he pulled back, dropped his hands, and stood. “I have to get back to my room.”
“Okay.”
He stared at her mouth, groaned, and left her there without a backward glance.
Leaving her on her own, still with a broken heart.
He hadn’t been gone five minutes when a voice cleared at the top of the stairs. Diesel. She didn’t bother turning. She’d recognize his cologne, his presence, anywhere. Even in her dreams.
“What?” she demanded, in no mood for his fuckery.
“Come with me.”
Unlike Kaia, Diesel knew how to bypass all the security measures on the first floor. Ordinarily, Rebel could sneak through the house anywhere. Tonight, only Rule’s absence and her mother’s heartbreak filled her mind.
Rebel followed Diesel without question. Her turmoil even extinguished her anger at his treatment of Kaia. His pajama bottoms rode low on his hips and outlined his firm ass cheeks. She flushed at the idea of squeezing them.
They skirted the area with the home gym, natatorium, and rose garden, taking a circuitous route to the opposite side of the house where the laundry room and a handful of other rooms were located. The hallway was long and dark, grabbed from a gothic novel where ghosts and madmen roamed.
When Diesel pushed open the door and she followed him in, he didn’t flip on the light until he’d closed the door again.
It was a bedroom, modest-sized, neat, and furnished in gold and blue. Bypassing the bed, he tugged her to the loveseat and pulled her on to his lap.
She didn’t hesitate to lean her head in the crook of his neck and sob. She didn’t have to explain or hide or pretend. Diesel knew. He understood her. He’d known her for her entire life, since she was ten months old.
She cried until she had no tears left. So much had been lost, including her trust. How could that motherfucker try to kill her?
Laughter rumbled from Diesel and he stroked her hair. “Good to hear your fire hasn’t been extinguished.”
“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Are you okay, sweetheart? I’ve been so fucking worried about you.”
“Kaia talked to me,” she admitted, weary. “He helped a lot.”
Diesel tensed.
“Be nice to him, Diesel. For me. You’re marrying another woman.”
A shift of his hips made her aware of his erection. He tightened his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, and tangled his fingers through her hair.
“Let me return you to the back staircase,” he murmured.
“I don’t want to go. I want to stay in here with you.”
His heart rate accelerated and his muscles tautened. His hard length throbbed against her butt. He kissed her temple.
“You have to, Rebel,” he whispered. “It’s the right thing to do. I sought you out as your brother.”
Rebel didn’t point out having an erection for his fucking sister was so much worse than getting a hard-on for an underage girl.
Why should she?
It was official. Men were fucking stupid.