Because of You (Defying Gravity #1)

Prologue

Arabella

17 Years Old

“ A RABELLA,” mom bellows from the other side of the house. Jesus, why does she always have to scream? Can’t she get up and come tell me what she needs? I really don’t have time for this. I’m already running late for my date.

I love my mother. I really do, but she’s a lot to handle. She's been a single mom to my brother Axel and I for as long as I can remember, since our sperm donor left, and there are always ups and downs. When she’s up, she’s on top of the world. When she’s down, she drags others down with her, forcing everyone in her wake to pick up the slack. By everyone, I mean me. Axel is five years older than me and left as soon as he turned eighteen. Lucky asshole. Not like he ever really helped, anyway; in fact, he usually makes things worse with his lack of filter and zero fucks given attitude. He comes home from time to time, but only when he’s forced to. I want to resent him for leaving me to deal with her alone, but really I’m just jealous.

When mom was working, things seemed less stressful. She’d leave for the day and had plenty to keep her mind busy, meaning there was less focus on her kids and everything they were doing wrong with their lives. But then a number of years ago, she had to go and injure herself at work. Some freak slip and fall accident that had her in a neck brace for three months, resulting in her being home, forever, collecting disability benefits. It was a whole thing and still doesn’t really make sense to me, especially since she doesn’t appear to be all that physically disabled now.

She seems to at least be on an emotional upswing lately, as evidenced by the fact that she’s not sleeping twenty hours a day and she’s had a steady “man friend” for the past six months. She thinks it’s weird that I call him that, but what am I supposed to call him? Her boyfriend? Ryker Hart is clearly NOT a boy. He is all man with his blue eyes, thick thighs and bulging biceps. I dare any female, seventeen or otherwise, to challenge that assessment.

I still can’t figure out how they came to be or what he sees in her. I get that she’s pretty, if you’re into tall, thin, leggy blondes with high cheekbones and perfect fucking faces, but he can’t be that clueless–can he?

There’s been a revolving door of guys for as long as I can remember, but this one has been around the longest. His name may scream pornstar bad boy but he’s the nicest, by far. I’ve never personally had issues with any of them, but they always inevitably leave and Ryker is long past his expiration date. I can’t help but think it’s only a matter of time before he’s gone too.

I blow out a breath and trudge across the house, where I find her in the kitchen. Cooking? I must be in the fucking twilight zone, because she doesn’t cook. I’m staring blankly for god knows how long, taking in the scene in front of me, when a throat clears from the corner and I see Ryker sitting at the kitchen table that we never use.

Mom interrupts before he can speak, “Honey, dinner is almost ready. Come sit.”

“I can’t Mom, I’m going out. I have a date,” I try to tell her gently, because I know if I come at her as irritated as I am, it will only piss her off and frustrate me more. It's a never-ending cycle and a habit I desperately wish I could break.

“But we’re having family dinner. I worked so hard to make this a nice evening for us. Is your date really more important than this? I thought you liked spending time with me.” There it is. The guilt. What she’s really saying here is, “My needs are more important than yours.” It’s classic Christine. I do A LOT for her every day, like making sure she takes all her meds, so she doesn’t end up in a major depressive episode again. Most days, it feels like I’m the adult in this house and I rarely do anything for myself. Why should tonight be any different? I’d love to act my age and be irresponsible, for a change.

“It’s fine, Chris. Let her go on her date. We can all have dinner together some other time,” Ryker chimes in. I almost forgot he was here. Does he realize he’s poking a hibernating bear right now?

She's silent for what feels like forever, staring at him with a clenched jaw, when she finally says, “Whatever, but you’ll have to find another way there, because you can’t take the car.” Petty, party of one. Your table is ready.

My heart drops, because really? There is zero reason for her to keep me from using the car. She’s just trying to hurt me and it’s working.

“I’ll take her.” Ryker breaks the silence. “I’ll drop her off and when I get back, we can enjoy this lovely meal you made and have a nice romantic evening alone.” Gag. If he thinks he can defy her and still have a romantic evening, maybe his looks are all he has going for him. This isn’t the first time he’s stepped in to defend me. The last time, I heard them arguing from the other end of the house after I said goodnight. He should know better by now, that it’s not worth it.

“Okay, if you say so. But you should change your clothes first darling,” she says as she looks me up and down.

“Why?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. She’s talking about my weight, like she always does.

“Don’t you have something more flattering to wear? With your figure, you don’t have the luxury of just wearing whatever you want.” There it is.

I roll my eyes and answer, “This is what I’m comfortable in. I’m not changing.” I’m in skinny jeans and an old Aerosmith t-shirt that I cut into a crop top. Not exactly controversial.

“Like I keep telling you, if you just lost a little weight, you would be so pretty and you could wear whatever you want.” I know she loves me and wants the best for me, but can she seriously not hear herself?

“Fine, I’ll change.” I give in because I don’t have the energy to do this anymore and I desperately need to get out of this house. Like, yesterday.

As I turn to go back to my room, she lets out an, “I love you, baby.” And just like I always do, no matter how upset I am, I say it back. Because I do love her and I’m afraid if I don’t say it back, she’ll think I don’t.

I should have just stayed in the skinny jeans and cropped t-shirt I was wearing, because despite being thick around the middle with a big ass, I was actually comfortable and I felt sexy for once. But I’m choosing to be the bigger person and pick my battles. The super-sized guilt trip that would come along with doing what I want, is most definitely not worth it. As it is, I’m never going to hear the end of it for not canceling my date to have family dinner with mom and Ryker. We are NOT a family.

As I finish putting my blonde hair in a messy bun, I hear a gentle knock on my door. “Arabella, I’m ready whenever you are. I’ll be waiting in the car.” I sigh, quickly fix my makeup and head out the door.

I hop in the passenger seat of Ryker’s black Charger, trying to shake off my irritation so I can enjoy myself tonight.

“I’m sorry for taking you away from Mom but thank you for driving me.”

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong and it’ll give her time to cool down.” He shoots me a reassuring wink.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, before he curiously asks, “So, a date? You haven’t mentioned anyone before. Is this new?” Oh god. I do not want to have this conversation with him. I can handle my own shit. I have survived this long without a father, I don’t need one now. Realistically, at this point, I’ve basically raised myself.

“Yes, it’s new.” I answer anyway, because he has only ever been nice to me, so the least I can do is not be a bitch. Who am I kidding? I don’t have it in me to be a bitch, because I’m a good girl that does as she’s told. Oh great, now I’m irritating myself. “We’ve been talking for a while and he finally asked me out. We’re going to see a movie and then to a party after. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything irresponsible.”

“I wasn’t worried about you. I’m more worried about him,” he explains. “Guys your age don’t always have the best intentions and it'll make me feel better knowing you’re safe.”

I turn my head and consider him for a moment. The silence in the air is thick as I take in his words. Is it getting hot in here?

“Are you trying to have the sex talk with me? You do know I’m seventeen, right?”

“Jesus. I was referring to your physical safety,” he says as he waves his hands in surrender.

“Oh. We'll be in a public place, so I’m sure I’ll be fine. I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry.”

“Well, I care about you, so worry comes with the territory.”

“Thanks for the assist with Mom,” I say, changing the subject. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s only going to make your evening with her harder.”

“Don’t mention it. You could do it too, you know. What’s she going to do? She only has as much power as you give her. There was nothing wrong with what you were wearing. If you keep giving in to her, she’ll only keep taking.”

“It’s complicated. I know she means well, it’s her delivery that could use some work.” That’s not true. I don’t know if she actually means well.

“She could show it better, that’s for sure. Was she this hard on Axel?” he questions.

“She tried to be, but Axel always pushed back. Those two are like oil and water. I can’t tell you how many times I ended up the mediator in their fucked up power struggles.” I can’t roll my eyes far enough back in my head. I’m still upset that he left me to deal with her by myself.

As we pull up to the theater, he orders, “Give me your phone.”

I stare at him blankly, because what???

“Just give me your phone Arabella,” he demands in a voice I’ve never heard. “I’m going to put my number in it. If you need anything, I want you to call or text. Got it?”

“Sure.” I draw out the word, hesitating for a moment but end up handing him my phone anyway. After a few seconds, he offers it back to me and I get a hit of his musky cologne. God, he smells delicious. Like rugged man and bad decisions. Nope. Get out of the car Arabella. Right the fuck now. “Thanks for the ride, Ryker.”

“No problem. Have a good time, Arabella.”

Four hours, one movie, a boring party and a shitty makeout session later and my date is dropping me off at my front porch. Turns out there is such a thing as too much tongue after all. I shudder at the memory of the disaster of a date I just experienced. I know I don’t have a lot of experience with the opposite sex, but I know that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Opening the door, I hear her sobs before I see her. Fuck my life, what now?

“Mom?” I call out. “Where are you?”

More sobs, followed by her choked words, “I’m over here.”

I find her in the dining room, hunched over and crying into the kitchen table. Rubbing her shoulder, I ask “Mom, what’s wrong?”

“He left. That’s what’s wrong. I hope you had a great evening, cause mine sure sucked.” She's crying more violently now and my heart cracks a little at the sight. I’ve seen her upset over guys before, but never like this. For the life of me, I can’t imagine what would have caused him to end things with her. I never understood why they were together, but I never got any wind of real problems between them.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

She lifts her head and pins me with a daggerous glare. “If you had just stayed home tonight and played nice, none of this would have happened. This is all your fault.”

I fail to see how any of this is my fault, but I don’t say it. She’s not in the right frame of mind to hear anything from me right now, and I’m not really in the mood either, because this loss is hitting harder than the others for some reason. He hasn’t even been gone 24 hours, and I already feel the emptiness he left in his wake.