How do I tell her I feel fucking useless? Like a goddamn damaged toy. Yeah, it’s been, what, less than twenty-four hours, and I can’t expect miracles. But still. Doesn’t mean there’s not a worry nagging at me that I’m never going to be right again. That a piece of me stayed behind in the dungeon, and I’m always going to be fucked up. That what Crane did to me runs deeper than scars. It’s more than memories. Worse than the monster that’s living in my head.
That he created someone who’s a ticking time bomb.
Someone Crow just cut off at the knees.
* * *
Jester goes all out for breakfast. Didn’t even know the man knew how to cook. Hell, all the time he lived with me, he never even boiled a pot of water. But he’s all Gordon Ramsay and shit. Eggs. Pancakes. Bacon. Biscuits. Then he tells us to relax while he cleans up the mess.
Pardon me while I nearly die of a heart attack right here in the kitchen considering Jester’s always been a class A slob.
All humor aside, Jester’s sudden inner HGTV is nothing but cover after he spent the last six months fearing he lost his best friend. His brother. If this is his way of expending that pent-up emotion, I’ll leave him to it because God knows the house has never been cleaner, and I’ve never eaten a better breakfast.
As I step outside, I recall the exact moment the last time I was in my backyard. The night before I left for Pittsburgh. Before my last MMA fight. My last night of freedom. Boys came over, and we drank around the fire pit because Jester and I finally finished building the giant wooden pergola over the picnic-style table. It was a good night, and I felt indestructible. Fucking immortal. Next morning, I left for Pittsburgh. I beat the shit out of Ivar Larsen. Should have come to celebrate the win with my friends.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
I swallow hard and fight back the claustrophobic the invisible sensation of the cell’s walls and bars. I’m outside. Free. In my yard, that’s done up rustic style. Jester and I renoed out here first since it was during spring and we wanted a place to hang. We planned to start inside once the weather turned cold, but Crane cut that shit short.
I picked this house on Tyler Cliff for the view, and seeing Jamie framed by the backdrop of the Appalachians knocks the wind out of me. The woman is a work of art right here in my backyard.
Thank fucking God her hair isn’t twisted into one of those tight buns she likes so damn much. It’s hitting almost at her waist and blowing free from the breeze. The plain blue dress falls below her knees, but she has one of my hoodies pulled over it since there’s a chill coming in off the mountains. Her bare toes have to be tiny ice cubes buried in the cold grass.
I doubt she realizes I’m out here. Instead, she’s focused on the view. Most of Mayhem stretches out over the west. Beyond that are more mountains. East is Falls Creek—Order of the Rose Territory. Dense forest blocks north and south. From this vantage point, it’s like you can see the whole world, and Jamie’s staring out over that scenery, taking it all in as if she’s seeing it for the first time.
When I come up behind her, she leans into me and rests her head against my chest. “Regret being back?”
“Still seems surreal.” She points to a rock formation in the distance. “When we were kids, I was so jealous that you and your friends hung out there while I was stuck at home with that monster. You guys were the cool kids, and I was… I was me.”
Satan’s Peak has always been a popular hotspot where local kids get drunk and rowdy on the weekends.
I wrap my arms around her, and we’re practically one body. “I hated that you couldn’t come.”
I bite back a smile at her snort. “Oh yeah, right. I’m sure. Especially when you had your tongue jammed down some random girl’s throat.”
“I won’t apologize for not being loyal to you when we weren’t a couple.”
“Nor do I expect you to.”
“But just so you know, I cared, Jamie.”There. I said it. Because why the fuck not? I lost everything in the dungeon, including my dignity. What more do I have to lose with this small confession? “And I was pissed when you didn’t come home.”
She stiffens, and I can practically feel the wall shoot up around her. “I don’t want to do this now.”
I turn her around, livid at Crane’s fading signature on her cheek. “I do.”
“Please, Wraith, no.”
But I’m ruthless. That’smysignature. And this shit’s been a thorn in my side since the day I realized she ghosted me. “You owe me answers.”
She shimmies out of my arms and stares out over Mayhem. “Fine. We’ll do this now. It’s simple. I didn’t call or write because I was ashamed of the details that came out during the trial. Yes, you knew most of it, but you didn’t know all of it. I’m disgusting. Unworthy, if you want the whole truth. And I didn’t come back when I turned eighteen because by then, I assumed you moved on.” She spins to face me, leaning against the fence. Every part of her is on guard, and I can’t even see the woman I woke up next to this morning. This is the cold little general who stepped from the shadows in Elite. “Do you think I wanted to come back to Mayhem and be an intruder? I mean, my God, no one wanted me, Wraith.No one.But okay, I was supposed to waltz back into town and believe you, an Unholy, had open arms waiting for me after two years. Sure, we’ll go with that, if that’s the lie you expect me to believe.”
Unworthy.
Jamie Ellis is many things. Bullheaded. Prideful. Defensive. But unworthy?
Never.
