People We Avoid (Don’t Date Him #2)

Prologue

My demons would bend yours over.

—Creed’s secret thoughts

Creed

It was the beeping that woke me. Not the pain.

My eyes cracked open, and I stared at the white ceiling for quite a long time before movement at my side had me moving my head to see in that direction.

What I saw had my entire world crumbling.

“Mom?”

What was she doing here?

And how had she found me?

She grinned wickedly. “You thought you could hide, didn’t you?”

My stomach sank.

I’d thought that I could hide.

That I’d be able to hide both Bernice and me until she was eighteen and old enough to be out from under our mother’s thumb.

“Well, it sucks to say, but you didn’t do a very good job.” She bared her crooked, meth-addled teeth at me and said, “But look who made the mistake now. Town golden boy, Justin Arquette, drunk driving with his sister in the car. Plows into a police station and kills two officers.”

My hand jerked in surprise, and the clink of metal on metal had a feeling of nausea welling over me.

I was already shaking my head. “I don’t drink.”

Because why would I when I’d seen all the bad things that could happen when you drank?

Her smile scared the shit out of me. “Don’t you?”

No.

No, I did not.

Because I’d seen what substance abuse did to my parents.

I wouldn’t touch drugs or alcohol.

Neither would Bernice.

“What happened?” I asked, stomach sick.

“You were drunk,” she repeated. “Can’t believe it. My golden boy. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

I fisted my hands.

Nine months later

The clang of the gavel hitting the wood on the judge’s desk felt like the final nail in my coffin.

“Sixty years,” I heard Bernie whisper, her voice cracking. “This can’t be right.”

But it was right.

I’d gotten sixty years in prison for killing two cops during my “drunk driving” accident.

“He killed two cops.” My mother snickered, sounding overjoyed. “It’s right.”

She crossed her hands in front of her and stood, looking so prim and proper that it hurt.

“Since you’re going in for a while.” My mom smiled. “I hope you know that I’ll take really good care of your sister.”

This fucking bitch.

Six years later

“I found something out,” my sister whispered.

My head tilted. “What?”

She clenched her hand on the phone and stared into my eyes, her gaze heavy. “I found out how Mom got you drunk.”

My stomach sank. “You did?”

I’d always suspected that she was behind it.

Any time anything went wrong with my life, she was responsible.

“The last time that Mom had to go into rehab, they injected her with alcohol intravenously to help with withdrawals. That’s where she got the idea,” she said. “And you weren’t the one responsible for smashing into that police station. She was. I…some of my memories came back recently.”

I blinked.

“Really?” I breathed.

“Really. I knew you didn’t kill them.”

I hadn’t.

I knew I hadn’t.

Yet, every single time I tried to tell everyone that, they looked at me like I was the scum of the earth.

The truth was, my car had plowed into a police station.

I did have a blood alcohol level of 0.22.

And I did happen to be in the area of where the accident had taken place, though I’d been passed out on the street a block from the police station.

But here was the thing.

I’d never driven drunk before. Hell, I’d never drank alcohol at all before. I had a stellar driving record, never had a speeding ticket in my life, and I never even drove above the speed limit.

I was too scared to.

The town that I’d lived in hated us.

My mom had burned a lot of bridges, and I had to keep my nose clean or else I’d end up in jail right beside her. Because the cops of Cedar Ridge had no tolerance for Arquettes.

But what I’d been accused of doing…I knew I hadn’t done it.

Yet, there was no proof.

My sister, who’d been involved in the accident, had suffered a brain injury that’d caused her to forget everything for about a forty-eight-hour time period.

The only people there to witness was a homeless woman—who I was sure my mom had paid off—and a cop that I knew my mom had fucked in order to get him to help her.

My mom had it out for me since the day that I was born.

I spent my entire life barely surviving, and when my little sister had come along, I’d spent my every waking moment making sure that my mother’s filth didn’t affect her.

When I’d turned eighteen, I’d petitioned the courts for custody of Bernice.

It’d been pretty easy to get. My mom hadn’t shown up to court and had even said to multiple witnesses that “maybe it would be better for Bernice to live with Justin.”

And we’d lived happily ever after for a whole two and a half years before my mom had seen that I had a little bit of money to my name and gotten jealous.

When I’d refused to give her any money—I had a kid to raise and didn’t have the money to spare—she’d lost her shit.

Which led us to the day that I’d “killed” two officers.

“What do you remember?” I asked.

She swallowed hard. “Everything.”

“Tell me,” I begged.

“I was sick. I called you to come get me. Except, you never came. Mom showed up, and I went with her. I know it was stupid. But she said she’d take me to urgent care.

I thought…what could it hurt? She could even pay.

Except, we never made it to urgent care.

She purposefully hit that building and those officers, Justin.

I saw her do it. She smiled at me evilly, then slammed into the building.

I heard a groan that didn’t come from me, and that’s when I looked back and saw you in the back seat.

You were on the floor in between the seats, rolled up in a blanket, Justin. You didn’t hit anyone.”

The other question was, how had she gotten the jump on me?

That might be something I’d never know.

“But you were hurt really bad. How did that happen?” I asked. “If you were aware enough to see that happen?”

Her eyes were stricken. “Mom. She slammed my head into the dash when I was looking at you. I don’t remember anything after that.”

My stomach lurched. “She did?”

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry that I didn’t remember until now.”

I wished I wasn’t speaking to her through plexiglass. I wanted nothing more than to wrap her up into my arms and pretend like everything would be okay. At least for a little bit.

“I’m going to go to the cops with this,” she promised. “I’m going to get you out.”

Except she wouldn’t.

Mom would fuck and blackmail whoever she had to to make sure that I never got out.

I was exactly where she wanted me, rotting away in the place that was going to take pieces of my soul until there was nothing left.

“I love you, Bernie,” I said. “It’s okay.”

She stood up, a look of fierce determination on her face. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

Ten years later

Every single avenue of appeal and mistrial had been exhausted.

There was nothing left to do but live the rest of my life in this six-by-six cell.

I stared up at the springs of my bunkmate’s bunk and said, “Looks like you get to keep me, man.”

The bedsprings groaned as he twisted so that he could look at me below him, his shaggy hair falling free of his face as he did.

“I wish it’d worked.”

I wasn’t surprised it hadn’t.

Bernice had spent almost her entire life trying to get me free, and it was time to stop.

I wanted her to live her life, and I didn’t think she would stop unless I asked her to.

“I asked her to stop,” I said softly.

“You should have,” Bryce murmured. “She’s wasting her life.”

She was.

At twenty-eight, my sister had barely lived her life.

She went through the motions, sure.

But she ate, slept, and breathed trying to get me free.

This was our last-ditch effort.

And even though I knew it wouldn’t work, I’d allowed her to try.

But no more.

I…

“Arquette.”

I looked up to see a guard at the bars staring at me intently. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor,” he grumbled. “Let’s go.”

I went, though it wasn’t like I really got much choice where I was at.

I did what they wanted, when they wanted, or I went into solitary.

Well, I only went into solitary after they beat the piss out of me.

Which somehow made it worse.

“Who is it?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t my sister.

Though, my sister wouldn’t have gotten the pull to visit with me outside of visiting hours.

He didn’t answer, and instead continued to walk with purpose through a maze of hallways.

When we passed the room where we normally met with visitors, my heart started to pound.

This wasn’t right…

“In here.”

I paused, hesitating on the threshold.

I didn’t want to go into that room.

I had a feeling if I did, my life would get harder.

Except, when I hesitated, he shoved me in using his baton straight to my back.

I gritted my teeth and moved forward.

It was either that or get the shit beat out of me again, and I was barely healed from the last time.

Correctional officers didn’t take kindly to cop killers.

I had so many concussions that sometimes it was hard to come up with the right words.

I was probably going to die of brain damage.

“Justin Arquette,” a rough voice said. “Come have a seat.”

I looked up to find myself staring at a man with salt and pepper hair, steel-gray eyes, and a short, trimmed beard. He was dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, and motorcycle boots.

I’d never seen him before, but it was more than apparent he knew me with the way his smile grew wide upon the sight of me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He smiled. “My name is Apollo.”