Slate (Breaking the Declan Brothers #2) (3 page)

He glares down at the guy on the floor. Gloves fisted, chest rising and falling, he waits for his opponent to stand. From the corner of my eye, I faintly see the Hulk grabbing for the cage to get up, but I can’t turn away from Slate. I can’t understand what I’m seeing. All those scars look painful. Slate’s eyes flash from the man and connect right with mine. He sees me, but he doesn’t react or look away.

As if time slowly stops, we stare at each other. His eyes—they’re not the same. The bright specks of blue, green, and gray no longer glint. They’re dull, as though the life’s been sucked out of them and all that’s left is the darkest color. My chest tightens. What happened? What took the beautiful light from him—the innocence and kindness that used to glisten in those eyes? What caused that damage to his body? There’s always been a strong connection between us, and I feel his suffering deep in my heart. I also sense that the Slate I knew doesn’t live in that malformed body anymore.

My eyes start to burn, but I can’t turn away, and neither does he. It costs him a quick jab to the face. His head jolts to the side, the hit breaking our connection. I step forward, pushing myself through the crowd, trying to get closer. Slate stumbles back, shaking it off. He lunges forward, gets the guy in a bear hug, and they twirl around in the ring until Slate’s crushed up against the cage, again facing me. The man has him in a chokehold.

Slate’s cold, dead eyes pierce into me, through me. I feel the very pain that scars his muscular flesh. I feel it in every cell of my being. It consumes me, and there’s no stopping the single hot tear as it drops from the corner of my eye. The second it lands on my cheek, Slate’s eyes turn black. His face crumples with an unrecognizable rage, both arms lift, and his gloved fingers clutch the Hulk’s arm. Ruthlessly, he rips the Hulk’s arm from his throat.

Just then, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I spin around. My body is shaking. “Emmie,” I gasp for the first time since seeing Slate and reality hits me hard. I suck in some air. “Oh, my God!” I lift a trembling hand to my mouth, and her eyes soften with understanding. She knows! Why didn’t she tell me? Was she trying to protect me? I don’t need protection. “No,” I barely say in a harsh whisper. “No!” Emmie tries to comfort me, but I push her away. “No!” I shake my hands, this isn’t happening. That ruthless man, permanently scarred from God knows what; that’s not my Slate. “No! No! No!”

“Rayna-” Emmie reaches out for me again.

“No!” I clench her shirt with white-knuckled fingers and pull her to me, desperately searching for an answer. “Tell me, Emmie. You tell me right now. What happened to my Slate!”

“The fire,” she says, looking me right in the eyes. “The fire in Grams’ store, Slate was there, inside, when it happened.”

“No.” I swallow back my tears, imagining him caught in the store, imagining him alone and afraid. Oh God, my stomach flips. What he must have gone through to get all those scars. The thought of his skin burning weakens my knees, but I manage to keep myself upright.

“I’m sorry, Rayna. I swear, I didn’t know. Jax just told me,” Emmie says, as the crowd gets louder and louder.

I loosen the grip on Emmie’s shirt but don’t let go, fearful that I might tumble to the floor if I do. I turn around. Slate stands, face bruised and bloodied, while the Hulk lies unmoving on the mat. The ref is leaning over the Hulk. I’m not sure if he’s counting down from ten or talking to him. Then the ref stands up, walks over to Slate, and lifts his arm. The crowd howls for their winner. The winner, though, doesn’t appear affected by their devotion. He yanks his hand from the ref’s grip, grabs his hoodie from the corner of the ring, and pulls it over his head. He starts to leave the ring, glances over his shoulder, and from the corner of a dark eye, he finds me.

Still, as swiftly as he finds me, he’s just as quick to desert me. He turns away, leaving the way he came. He disappears through the door. And all I can think about are those dark, lifeless eyes.

I run down the hall. I can’t be late to class. Mrs. Beam picks the Top Banana today, and she won’t pick me if I’m tardy. Before I make it to the door, I slow down. I enter, and my eyes go straight to the back of the room. I need to see them. They’re so pretty; the way they sparkle reminds me of Mamma’s long dangly earrings. I’ve never seen eyes like them before, and all those pretty colors. Yay! I find them! And like they’ve been waiting for me too, they beam up at me. They belong to Slate Declan. He’s the new kid at school. I heard that his parents died last year. He and his brothers came to the Bayou to live with their grandma, Mrs. Declan. I know her, and she’s a real nice lady.

I don’t really know him, though. He doesn't talk much, and once he lets me see those eyes, he’s always real quick to turn away. He’s a little older than the rest of the class. He got held back a year, but I guess losing your parents would do that to ya. He’s not a tall boy. Mamma would call him husky. But there’s just something about him. When I look at him, it feels like I swallowed a whole bunch of butterflies. I like it.

I settle in my chair at my desk. Mrs. Beam enters the room and I sit up straight, smiling big at her. I did real good on my reading test, haven’t missed a day of school yet this year, and I’ve behaved myself in class. I want Lila the monkey and the Top Banana gets her for the week. Jinny Walker had her last week.

“Okay, class.” Mrs. Beam claps her hands together and the room gets real quiet. “It’s Tuesday and you all know what that means.”

Some of us shout, “Top Banana!”

“Yes.” She nods her head. “Jinny, do you have Lila?”

Jinny nods. Reaching into her desk, she reluctantly pulls out Lila. I know she doesn’t want to give her up. I wouldn’t want to. Lila is so cute with her light brown fur and that little pink bow on her head. She’s a puppet, and you can wrap her long arms and legs around you. The boys rarely sign up for Top Banana, but that’s good. It makes my chances that much better.

“Ah, there she is.” Mrs. Beam smiles. “Thank you, Jinny, for taking care of her for the week, but now it’s time to give her to someone else.”

“Yes, Mrs. Beam,” Jinny says.

“Okay, let’s see.” Mrs. Beam taps a finger to her lip. “Jinny, could you please give Lila to…” She pauses and looks around the room then she stops at me. Yes! Me! “Rayna.”

I nearly jump out of my seat with joy. I feel bad for Jinny as she walks Lila over to me, but I can’t hold back my excitement. I take the soft monkey from her, hold her tight, and don’t let go of her for the rest of the school day.

A few kids gather around me while I’m waiting for the bus. Lila’s snuggled around my body and some of the kids ask me to make her mouth move with my hand. So, I do. We’re all laughing, and then Mitch Kilner joins the crowd. He’s a bully, just a nasty kid, and I know he’s lookin’ to cause trouble.

“Stupid monkey,” he sneers, reaching out and grabbing Lila’s head. I feel his fingers pressing into my hand through Lila’s furry head.

“Let go,” I yell, trying to hang onto Lila with my other hand but he’s strong. He gives Lila a jerk, and he rips her head right off. I’m left standing with only her body. I look up at him, and he laughs. He waves Lila’s decapitated head in the air and keeps laughing. I glance around. With open mouths, everyone stares at me. I don’t know what to do. Mrs. Beam is going to be so disappointed in me. Oww...my hand balls into a fist. I want to punch Mitch, but he’s big, real big. Hearing the bus pull up behind me, I turn around. Slate Declan is standing there. His eyes move to Mitch, to Lila’s head, and then they slide back to me. Everyone starts laughing. I’m so embarrassed. I drop what’s left of Lila and run to the bus.

I couldn’t sleep a wink all night. I tried to talk Mama into letting me stay home from school the next day, but she has rules; no fever, no staying home. But I’m sick, so sick over what happened to Lila. I don’t know how I’m going to explain it to Mrs. Beam. I’m no tattletale. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t snitch on Mitch Kilner.

To make the morning worse, when I enter the classroom and look at the back of the room, Slate isn’t there. I slump down into my chair. No one talks to me. They know that I’m in trouble. I had one responsibility—to take care of Lila—and I couldn’t do it.
I’m not going to cry...I’m not going to cry
...I chant in my head, but I feel the tears lifting. They want to come out. Just when I’m about to give into them, Slate Declan comes strolling into the room. My eyes find his and those fluttering butterflies in my belly make me feel a little better. He heads toward me and stops at my desk. He drops his backpack down in front of me, unzips it, and pulls out Lila. She’s put back together, safely all in one piece. He holds her out to me.

“You got her from Mitch,” I ask in disbelief. He shrugs. I reach out and take her. I inspect her then lift my head, and like a rainbow, those beautiful colorful eyes beam down upon me. “You fixed her?”

“No,” he quietly says. “My grams did.”

“Thanks.” I smile up at him, and for the first time, I see Slate Declan’s smile. And if I thought those eyes were pretty before. Wow, it’s amazing what his smile does to them.

I yank my sneakers on, grab my purse, and head out the door. I’m only going to the Declan brother’s apartment today to see my girl. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I do miss my dog, Lady. When I left the Bayou, I couldn’t take her with me, so I left her with Zeke. He assured me that if Slate didn’t want her, he’d take care of her. I asked Emmie about her, but she never did say if she saw Lady at the apartment. I can’t blame her. The girl has nothing but Jax Declan on the brain.

Their apartment is located in the back of JZS, and at midafternoon, the parking lot is empty. I walk around the building, spotting Jax’s truck. Emmie must be here; she didn’t come home last night. Some of the stress leaves me knowing that she’ll be in there. I walk up the stairs. Dammit. My hands are shaking. I know that Slate might be in there, too.

I rap my knuckles on the door. A few seconds pass and the door swings open. Like sex on a stick, Zeke Declan stands in nothing but a pair of jeans with the words Ride the Lightning tattooed on his lower belly. His eyebrow lifts. “Hey, Rayna.”

“Hi, Zeke. How are you doing?”

His head tilts, the dimple in his cheek intensifying with his sexy, polished smile. “I’m good,” he says, and he just keeps smiling. Finally, he opens the door a little wider. “You wanna come in?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I say, entering an apartment that’s a lot nicer and cleaner than I ever expected.

Jax and Emmie come walking into the living room. They’re gorgeous together—Emmie blonde and beautiful, and Jax tall and massive in every way, from his confidence to his good looks. “Hey, whatcha doing here,” Emmie says. Her baby-blue eyes go wide. “Wait. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I wave her down. “I just wanted to come over and see Lady,” I glance around. “Where is she?” Both Jax and Zeke look at me with raised brows. “Where’s my girl?”

“Ah…” Jax rubs a hand over his stubbly chin, his near black eyes gazing up at me from beneath lowered lids.

I turn to Zeke, placing my hands on my hips. “Zeke?”

“She’s not here,” he says.

“Not here?”

“She’s, ah…” Jax looks at Zeke then back at me. “I’m sorry,” his deep husky tone softens, “but she’s gone, Rayna.”

“Gone?” My head jerks back. Then, it hits me. “Oh, gone.” Poor Lady, she was going on eleven years old, but I never thought that she might’ve passed away.

Emmie comes over and rubs my shoulder. Again, I’m not sure if she knew and didn’t tell me to protect me. She knows that I don’t like to be coddled.

I sigh, turning to Zeke. “Well, thanks for taking care of her.”

“Wasn’t me, she was Slate’s. Ah, yours, but ya know. Slate was the one who took care of her after you left.”

“Really?” I look over at Emmie. “Is Slate here?”

“No,” Jax says a tad too quick.

“Yes.” Emmie shoots him a questioning look. “He’s here.” She turns back to me. “But I think he’s sleeping.”

“I want to see him. Thank him for taking care of Lady.” A part of me feels bad for using Lady’s death as an excuse, but I know the other reason as to why I came here. And now accepting it, I’m not leaving until I see Slate.