Rebel Soul: (Rebel Series Book 1) ((Rebel Series)) (7 page)

“Remarkable jumping from Melanie Clayton and Thunder Crush! Now let’s give a warm welcome to contestant number 13, Tessa Armstrong, riding Scared Spirit!” The announcer’s voice rang throughout the track, and Spirit and I took off.

I lost myself completely to the sensation of flying over those jumps, focusing on the sound of Spirit’s hooves instead of the crowd and the announcer. I seemed to be able to control Spirit with my mind, merely thinking of the direction to change and adding the faintest touch to get him to respond.

Our timing was perfect, and Spirit’s hooves didn’t knock any poles off. The judges gave me a near perfect score, topping Melanie Clayton’s and pushing me to the number one place.

With my breathing labored, I rode Spirit out of the ring. Melanie was scowling, unimpressed with the fact that I’d beat her again. “They might as well just give you the first place ribbon,” she snarled, the distain evident in her voice.

I forced a smile. “Who knows, maybe the next contestant will knock me out of first place,” I responded, hopping down from my saddle.

“Here’s hoping.” Melanie snorted, turning around and stalking off. She passed Elle as she headed towards me, and my best friend gave her a foul look.

“God I hate her,” she said to me, rolling her eyes. She didn’t seem to care that Melanie was still within earshot. She threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “You did awesome out there, as always! First place for sure. When do you find out?”

“In fifteen minutes.” I shrugged. “Soon as this guy finishes and they tally up the scores to see who won.”

“You.” Elle grinned. “After you accept your sixth first place ribbon, we’re hanging out! Travis Channing is playing tonight and I’ve got tickets!”

Travis Channing was a twenty-four year old local guy who’d blown up the country music industry after winning a televised talent show. Travis had gone to school with Gordon and Brock, for that matter. I could remember him hanging around on our wraparound porch with them when I was a kid.

“With you?” I arched a brow pointedly. Elle bit her lip, looking very much like she had a secret that she was trying to keep from me. “Elle, don’t bullshit me. You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Well…” Elle exhaled, her lips spreading into an excited smile. “It may be me and just a few other people, but it’s not like we’re going together or anything!” she hurried to explain.

“Like who?” As soon as the question spilled from my lips, I knew the answer.

“Oh you know, the gang. Braden…and Brock,” Elle answered, her response sounding more like a question.

“First of all, no. My dad’s around here somewhere,” I hissed. “Second, I’m not even dressed to hang out.”

“I brought some clothes; they are in my trunk. We’re practically the same size. They’ll fit,” Elle pleaded, her eyes wide. “Please, please, please, please, please!”

“Please what?” My dad’s voice startled us both, and we glanced towards him as he approached as if we’d been caught with our hands in the cookie jar before dinner.

“I was just begging Tess to come to the Travis Channing concert tonight,” Elle responded easily. “You remember Travis Channing, don’t you, Mr. Armstrong? I already have the tickets and my mom won’t let me go alone.”

“I told you a thousand times, call me Bill,” my dad said, scratching at his beard as he considered the question. “Now, Tess…you’ve got some chores to do at home. You’re going to need to tend to Spirit and feed the rest of the horses…”

I perked up, thankful that my father’s sense of stern responsibility was going to save me from seeing Brock Miller again. I didn’t exactly want to be around him right now, not after last night and certainly not when I didn’t know how to act or feel around him.

“But that shouldn’t take you long, and you’re welcome to meet up with Elle again after supper,” Dad finished.

“Maybe for supper? And I’ll help Tess with the horse stuff?” Elle bartered. My dad looked at her and laughed, shaking his head. She had him wrapped around her finger. My dad was her surrogate father in the same way that her mom was my surrogate mother.

“You’re just like your mama, Elle,” he told her, putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing briefly. “You could talk a fish into buying water.”

I swallowed my jealousy. Just once, I’d like to hear my dad say that to me with as much comfort and ease. I knew I looked like her; I had her honey blonde hair and her amber eyes. I knew we were similar in a lot of ways; Sue had made sure to tell me that, but my dad’s pain over losing her kept him from actually verbalizing the similarities. Today was the first time he’d ever mentioned she’d be proud of me. I understood it, but it still sucked.

“Fine, I’ll go,” I relented, rolling my eyes.

Brock

When I was eighteen, my grandpa on my dad’s side died and he left each of my siblings and me a fair bit of land just on the outskirts of Parry Sound. He’d owned 180 acres near a small lake. The terms of Grandpa Miller’s will were that the land would be held in trust until we each turned twenty-one. Then, we would be free to do what we wished.

I was still in jail when I turned twenty-one, and then I immediately left for Alberta to work. I was focused on helping my mom pay back the debt my legal fees had accumulated.

A year ago, I started to think about the property again. The lake was probably where the majority of my good childhood memories took place. My dad had hated it – or maybe he hated my grandpa – and refused to go anywhere near it. It was a safe haven from him. We’d spend as much time as we could there, camping and fishing with Grandpa. He had taught us about nature and the balance.

I started to daydream about going home and building something on my slice of land. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to come back permanently, but building something wouldn’t hurt regardless. I’d have somewhere to stay, somewhere to escape to when I wanted to visit, but didn’t want to stay in that god forsaken town or house.

With the number of hours I worked, it hadn’t taken me long at all to pay off the debts. I’d even had a nice cushion saved up, even after sending money home every month to help my family.

They were all pressuring me to come home. This wasn’t anything new; Mom was the main supporter of the Come
Home Cause, but whenever I talked to Becky and Braden, they said the same thing:
You should come home
. Only six months ago, those calls took on a more desperate tone.

One night a little over a month ago, after a particularly grueling day at work, I was in my tiny kitchen heating up a frozen dinner when my phone rang. There was no reception in the makeshift camp town, and I had to depend on the landline to stay in touch with my family. I didn’t mind it one bit, but the shrill sound of the phone ringing seemed ominous that night instead of welcoming.

“Hello?” I’d left my dinner abandoned on the counter.

“Brock?” It was Mom. She usually called me twice a week and this was her
fifth
time. Her voice sounded strange, heavy and weighted with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Hi, Mom. What’s up?” I’d asked distractedly, heading back to the counter to resume my task at hand.

“Honey, I’m sick,” she had said, her voice breaking over the line.

“What do you mean you’re sick?” I demanded, slowly setting the frozen dinner package back down on the counter. In my heart of hearts, I knew that she wasn’t talking about having a cold or a flu.

“I have pancreatic cancer,” she replied, emotion making her choke on the words. “I’m dying, Brock.”

“No.” I shook my head indignantly, the words chilling me to the bone and cutting into my heart, like a knife twisting into the flesh. I paced the small shack of a house I’d called home for the last two years, tugging at my hair with my free hand. Hunter whimpered at my feet, reacting to the panicked energy rolling off me in waves. “You can get treatment, can’t you? You can beat this. You need to beat this…for Becky, Braden and Aiden. For me too.”

Even though I couldn’t see her, I knew she was shaking her head. I knew she was crying. She took a shuddering breath. “It’s too late, Brock. It’s stage four. The doctors have given me three to six months.”

“What about chemotherapy?” I pleaded, sinking into the plaid sofa as the energy and will left my limbs. I folded over, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.

“The treatments would only make what little time I have left even more unbearable. I’ll get sick, I’ll lose my hair –”

“You’re concerned with getting sick and losing your hair? Jesus Christ, Mom, you’re already sick! You’re dying! Aren’t you concerned with that?” I interrupted. My words were angry and sharp.

I heard her draw in a shaky breath. “I don’t want Aiden to remember me like that…so sick that I turn into a skeleton and all my hair falls out. He won’t recognize me, Brock. It will kill me faster to inflict that kind of pain on him.”

“So you’re just going to give up. You’re not even going to fight.” The accusation that laced my words was right there, and I knew she heard it. I knew she understood its meaning.

“I regret a lot of things in this life, Brock…but opting to live out my remaining days without worrying about hospital appointments, without fading away to nothing before my loved ones’ eyes…that’s not one of them,” Mom said heavily. “No mother wants to leave her children. I’m so goddamn angry about this, but I want to enjoy what little time I have left. I need you to come home.”

So, I took a leave of absence from work and came back.

And I still wasn’t ready to face her, to go to the house I’d grown up in, which was why I was throwing every goddamn thing I had into the cabin I was building on my land. I wasn’t really planning on staying indefinitely; I just needed to do something, anything that wasn’t watching my mom die. Building the cabin I’d been thinking about building for years, seemed like a good thing to do with my time.

Grady McDonnell was over with his portable saw mill, and we were milling all the trees we’d cut down the week before. Braden was helping, partly because I’d told him I wasn’t going to let him throw a party on my land unless he did, but also because Braden needed this distraction every bit as much as I needed it.

He was a lot like me. We didn’t like to face our problems or talk about the shit that was bugging us. We liked to throw ourselves into distractions, into work. Because he was so much like me, I didn’t have to worry about him asking what the fuck my deal was.

He didn’t ask because he was avoiding the house, too. He was drinking more and attempting to steel himself for the inevitable. We both were. We knew it was going to happen, and we were powerless to stop it. What else could we do?

Becky was the only one of us that actually faced her problems head on, a change that came forth after she’d nearly lost her son. I knew she was livid with me for not going to the house yet. Mom was getting sicker, deteriorating faster, and I’d been dodging her calls.

I was an asshole.

“I need a break and a beer,” Braden said, his forehead dripping with sweat. “Do you want one, Grady?”

Grady looked at the huge pile of freshly milled lumber. We’d been going at it hard all morning, my rage from not only my mom’s situation but from what had nearly happened to Tessa Armstrong under my watch fueling me.

Another three or four days at this rate and we’d be done ahead of schedule.

“I don’t normally drink on the job,” Grady said apprehensively, looking from the beautifully milled wood pile to the cold Mill Street beer Braden clenched in his hand.

“Go for it,” I told him. “This isn’t a formal job anyway,” I reminded him. Grady and I had struck a deal. I would work for free, and he would give me a wickedly cheap discount. He was also welcome to take all the leftover wood for other projects.

Braden grinned, thrusting a beer into Grady’s outstretched hand. “See? Boss man said it was fine.” Without asking, he threw one at me. I cracked the cap and took a long swig.

I was hot too, and a break sounded good. I’d long since ditched my sweat soaked t-shirt, but the sun was beating down on us all and the heat was relentless. The condensation rolling off the bottle hit my chest and it cooled me a fraction as it slid down my throat.

“Are you going to the concert tonight?” Grady asked, making conversation. He was sitting down on the wood pile, stretching out his legs.

“What concert?” My brow furrowed.

“Travis is actually back in town, and he’ll be performing at the fairgrounds tonight,” Grady explained.

“No shit?” I said thoughtfully, taking another swig from my beer. I hadn’t seen Travis in years, and I’d never heard him perform before. I’d only caught a few of his songs on the radio; Alberta didn’t have many decent radio stations and they definitely didn’t play newer music.

“I’m going. Elle scored tickets,” Braden said. He paused to drink some more beer. “Tessa will be there too,” he added with a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes at him in warning. The last thing I needed was for Grady McDonnell to get the wrong idea and go running back to the Armstrong brothers. My life was complicated enough.

“You interested in Tessa?” Grady asked, picking up on Braden’s not-so-subtle hint. His dark eyes fixed on my face as he waited for my response. I could have decked my brother then and there.

“No,” I answered, keeping my tone neutral and my expression indifferent. “Braden’s just on a mission to set up his girlfriend’s best friend with someone. I’m definitely not interested.”

“Well, you should come tonight anyway. Gordon’s gonna be there; the whole gang will be. There’s a huge after-party at the Clayton’s barn.”

“Yeah, you could go get your licking early from Gordon, then Tessa will be free game!” Braden joked, cackling at his own joke.

I glared at him. “Seriously, Braden. Shut the fuck up.” I shook my head, my irritation at my brother growing tenfold.

Grady grinned, amused by the situation. “Well, either way. Gordon has his own construction company. They build houses and cottages. He’d give you a fair price on building the cabin.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said distractedly.

* * *

Showering in my tiny trailer wasn’t exactly easy at my height. I was six feet, and I had to crouch down in order for the water to hit my hair. The pressure was shit too, but the trailer served its purpose as a temporary home until I could get the cabin set up. It was definitely a good motivator, if anything.

I knew I’d be welcome to shower at my mom’s house, where Becky and Braden still lived, but that would mean going there and facing her. So I sucked it up, crouching beneath the slow stream of water and washing away the hard day of work.

I still hadn’t decided on whether I wanted to go to the concert. On one hand, it’d be nice to see everyone again. On the other, I was having a goddamn difficult time getting Tessa out of my head.

My thoughts drifted back to earlier that day, when I saw Tessa leaving her tent through the tiny window over my kitchen sink.

I was about to make myself a cup of coffee, but my hands had stilled, and I found myself watching her for a few moments…just to make sure she was okay. She walked gingerly towards her truck and paused with her hand on the door as if she was considering leaving. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and her fist went up to her mouth, tears spilling from those amber eyes. The sight of those tears prompted a lot of heavy emotions in me; anger, guilt, compassion…and something strong and potent that I was afraid to label.

It was a vulnerable moment that I knew she hadn’t meant for me, or anyone for that matter, to witness. The urge to fix things took over and before I could talk myself out of it, I was leaving the safety of my trailer and walking towards her.

She hadn’t liked that I’d seen her tears, and her sass and attitude towards me when I told her she had a right to feel scared, had me smiling when I shouldn’t.
She
had me smiling, and I hadn’t smiled like that in years.

Then there was whatever the hell happened in my trailer when I was trying to tend to her wounds. When she looked up at me and bit her lip, the desire was so potent it took everything I had to not kiss her, although I knew I had several opportunities. Any time our skin touched, she’d inhale sharply. I could practically see her pulse jumping the same way mine was.

She wanted me too.

It was the strangest feeling, watching the tires of her old Ford spin out as my brother’s girlfriend peeled out of the clearing. Normally, I’d be pissed that Elle had torn up the grass, but the only emotion that passed over me was regret. Regret to see Tessa go, regret that she’d been hurt last night and regret that I didn’t ask her for her number.

But acting on my strong feelings of desire and even just asking for her number would have been a dick move. She’d been attacked the night before, and having some guy hit on her was probably the farthest thing from her mind. But oh, how I’d wanted to.

The need to get to know this girl was alarming. The desire to
be
with her was staggering. It was almost acutely painful.