Brazen Girl: Brazen Series Book 3

by Dean, Ali

  Brazen Girl

  Brazen Series Book 3

  Ali Dean

  Edited by Leanne Rabessa at Editing Juggernaut

  Cover design by Hang Le

  Copyright © 2020 by Ali Dean

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Also by Ali Dean

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter One

  Beck

  The first thing I notice when I walk into the emergency room is Naomi wringing her hands and pacing. I’ve never seen my younger sister wring her hands, or pace. She’s steadier and more self-assured than just about anyone I know, let alone any sixteen-year-old. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, Naomi’s been a source of peace and calm for me as much as my own mother has over the years.

  Her eyes snap up to meet mine, and as I watch her stop the pacing and hand-wringing, I recognize I’m frozen in the automatic door. I vaguely notice the door’s confusion, sliding a few inches closed and then opening again when it senses me. But something is keeping me from moving all the way inside the building.

  Blonde hair flashes in the space between me and Naomi, and I feel Summer pulling me across the threshold into a hug.

  As soon as she lets go, she’s talking. “It was bad, so bad, Beck. She was out for almost a full minute. And then she started puking while we waited for the ambulance. All these people were there, filming and taking pictures. I almost jumped them and scratched their eyeballs out. I really wanted to. But we took care of her, Beck. She’ll be okay.” The final sentence comes out more like a hope than a reassurance.

  I’ve seen people crash exactly like Summer describes. Losing consciousness and throwing up. But just hearing her describe it happening to Jordan, it’s infinitely worse than watching it happen to an acquaintance. My own stomach turns at the visual she’s painted.

  Naomi looks nearly as sick as I feel, her eyes devoid of their usual brightness. That snaps me out of it enough to take a few long strides and wrap her in my arms.

  Her body shakes a little against my chest, and she buries her head like she’s trying to draw some comfort from me. I don’t know that I’ve got much to give her right now. After a moment, she pulls back, and repeats what Summer said. “It was bad, Beck. Really bad.”

  “What happened?” I force myself to ask. “I mean, how did she crash so bad?” People crash up there all the time, I get that. I thought Jordan would talk to me first, get some tips or something, before going after it again.

  “It’s like…” Naomi drifts off, her eyes unfocused for a moment. “It’s like she was in the zone, you know? And then all of a sudden, she went somewhere else, but her body didn’t.”

  With my hands on Naomi’s shoulders, I wait for her to clarify what she means, to realize she’s not making much sense. But she doesn’t continue, and goes back to wringing her hands.

  “Beckett Steele?” a woman’s voice calls.

  She’s wearing scrubs and holding a clipboard, and I’m already moving in her direction before I can wonder why she’s calling my name.

  “You’re a friend of Miss Slattery?”

  “I’m – yeah, a friend.”

  “Follow me, please.”

  After a quick glance at Summer and Naomi, I do what I’m told.

  “I’m Dr. Gibson,” she introduces herself, slowing for a moment to shake hands before continuing on.

  “Did she ask for me?”

  “We asked if she had someone who could drive her home and keep an eye on her the next few days, help out where necessary. She gave us your name, and said your sister was already here.” Dr. Gibson glances over at me. “I thought it might be you when I opened the door to the waiting room.”

  We turn the corner and she pauses outside a door. “Here we are.”

  Jordan’s lying on the hospital bed, sitting up just enough to watch us step inside. The first thing I notice is her necklace, the one I gave her. It’s the only thing on her that’s hers. She’s wearing a hospital gown, the sheets around her white, the walls in the room just as bland and sterile.

  The smiles we exchange are weak, but I’m relieved there’s no visible injuries from the crash. Pulling up a chair beside her, I take her hands, half-listening as the doctor explains Jordan gave permission to talk freely about her condition and diagnosis with me in the room.

  “You’ll need to be seen and tested weekly by a concussion specialist. I’ll give you a list of references near your home in Connecticut. Most recover within three months from a concussion, some only take two months, and one month would be particularly fast. Until your symptoms are completely gone, no contact sports or activities with risk of injury. This includes skateboarding.”

  I watch Jordan for a reaction, but she doesn’t give much away. Maybe Dr. Gibson already went over all this with her.

  “I understand you’re done with classes this semester?” she asks.

  “Yeah. I’m flying home on Friday.”

  “Good, as you may have trouble concentrating for a few days. The timing of winter break will help with recovery. Hopefully by the time you return to school in a few weeks your symptoms will be gone. But recovery from concussions can vary significantly, and it sounds like this isn’t your first one?”

  “No, I had one a few months ago, and a couple of others over the years before that.”

  “Research suggests concussions can be cumulative, meaning symptoms worsen with each one. So you shouldn’t expect to recover as quickly this time. It sounds like it was quite the fall.”

  Jordan’s eyes dart to mine for a moment before she confirms, “Yeah, it was a hard fall.”

  The doctor lists common symptoms she might experience, from increased irritability to light sensitivity and dizziness. “Additionally, if you’ve suffered from depression or anxiety in the past, you have a greater risk of those resurfacing more acutely.”

  I’ve had concussions before myself, and I’ve heard all these risks and possible symptoms listed. But knowing Jordan was out for a full a minute and threw up? There’s no question this recovery will look different than what either of us has been through before. She’s going to have to adhere to the month-long hiatus from skateboarding. I’ll be with her for only four more days and then her parents and her friends in Connecticut are going to have to be there for her.

  As soon as we’re told she can get dressed and leave, I’m taking both her hands. “You sure you want to fly home on Friday? You can stay here where I can be with you the entire time. I’m sure your parents have to work. I want to be the one to take care of you.”

  Jordan frowns. “I’m not sick or anything, Beck. I’m not even really injured. I mean, my head is I guess, but at least it’s not my legs or arms, right?”


  “I think your head is more important.”

  “You know what I mean. I can still get around just fine. Don’t worry, Beck. My parents will hover and not let me skate as soon as they hear about this. By the time I get back next semester I’ll be good to go.”

  She shrugs, like it’s no big deal she’s in the ER right now.

  My eyes scan her body for any other injuries as she drops the hospital gown and changes back into her clothes.

  “But won’t you get bored at home not being able to do anything?” I know she probably misses her parents and friends, but I’m looking for any reason to have just a few more days with her. I didn’t want to smother her this past week while she was trying to study and ignore the looming social media shitshow. But now I’m the one struggling to breathe as I count down the days before she’s gone. She might be coming back to campus afterward, but I’ll be stuck in a house on a reality TV show by then.

  “Honestly Beck, I was thinking maybe I should try to move my flight up a couple of days. You’ve still got exams, and so does everyone else. If I can’t skate, I might as well go home.”

  Jordan looks at me as she zips up her jeans and slides on sneakers. It’s like she doesn’t care or doesn’t even notice that she’s kind of breaking my heart right now. This doesn’t feel like one of her brush-offs when she’s overwhelmed by something. No, she’s addressing me like I’m not even part of the consideration here. Like I don’t matter. I know this isn’t about me, not right now, but doesn’t she want me to be here for her like I want to be?

  “The doctor said you asked for me,” I remind myself as much as I remind her.

  Jordan glances behind her to look at me as she reaches for the door handle. “Yeah, is that okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay. I came straight here after I turned on my phone and got the message.”

  “How did your exam go?”

  “My exam?” That feels like it happened years ago. “Who cares about my exam, Jordan, it’s you I’m worried about.” I take two steps until I can finally pull her into my chest. “What happened up there, anyway?”

  She doesn’t soften in my arms though, she stiffens. “I don’t really want to talk about that, Beck. Can we go home now?”

  “My place?”

  “Yeah, I’d rather stay with you the rest of the time I’m here.”

  That, at least, makes me smile. It’s stupid, but I like hearing her call my place home. Maybe because she’s already starting to feel like mine, and I want to be that for her too.

  “I only have one more paper to write and then I’ll be done too. Don’t fly home early.”

  “Okay,” she says, letting out a shaky sigh. “My parents will want me to once they hear about this, but I’ll stay. We’ve only got a few days together left anyway.”

  She pulls away and opens the door, wiping the smile right off my face.

  I know things have been rough between us since the wedding photos. I know Jordan’s been wondering how to handle it as the messages and comments from the internet trolls escalate. But I thought that if anything, we were solid, and that was never in question. I figured if something happened to one of us, the other would be there, no matter what kind of things were being said on social media. But Jordan’s acting weird, weirder than usual.

  She did ask for you, dumbass.

  And she did just suffer a serious concussion. This isn’t about me or us, I try to remind myself as I catch up to her down the hallway. But I can’t even reach for her hand or put an arm around her now that we’re about to go into the waiting room and outside. We’re still a secret. I thought it would be the public and the damn contract that would make Jordan act aloof toward others, but never toward me. Right now, there’s no denying I’m getting that treatment too. She’s barely aware of me beside her, while I’m using all my willpower not to pull her into my side and kiss the fuck out of her.

  Chapter Two

  Jordan

  The messages I read on Instagram earlier today are ringing in my ears. I know they aren’t true, and I can tell myself they don’t matter, but that doesn’t shut them up. They’re not loud like they were right before I crashed, but they’re constant.

  Beck’s presence beside me as we drive back to campus is comforting, but it’s also unsettling. I don’t know if I should feel so safe with him anymore. And when we pull up outside his apartment, the photo razzleydazzles sent flashes in my head. She was here, watching me, when I came to his place the other night. Yeah, she thought I was here for Griffin, but if she’s here now, watching, what will she think? Maybe she’ll accuse of me of cheating on Griffin again. Clearly, I’ve got some sort of stalker, or Griffin has a stalker who’s now targeting me?

  “Jordan?” Beck’s voice is so soft and gentle I hardly register it.

  “Beck, I think it’s time we go to the police. You were right last week. I should have listened.”

  Beck shifts until he’s out of the driver’s seat, crouching in the space between us in his van.

  “What happened? Did something happen?”

  I can’t quite bring myself to look him in the eye. An unfamiliar feeling soaks into my skin, making me squirm in discomfort. I’m ashamed, but of what I’m not sure. That I didn’t acknowledge the messages were getting to me? That I acted tough, said I could handle it? The truth is, I can’t handle it. I’m not tough. And these people who shouldn’t matter, they’re in my head.

  “One of those accounts, the one who has a thing for Griffin? She took a picture of me here on Thursday night, and sent it to me with a warning to stay away.”

  “Here? Where?”

  I point to the door to his apartment building.

  “She’s following you? When did you get the message?”

  “I opened it a little before Naomi and Summer picked me up to go to Riptide.”

  Beck doesn’t say a word for so long that I finally turn to face him. His nostrils are flaring. “Jordan.” He sounds like he’s in physical pain. “What happened up there? When you fell today.”

  “No one did anything to make me fall, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I explain. “I mean, they did, I guess. But it was all in my head. I think I had an anxiety attack mid-air? I just snapped to a different place, lost focus as the messages I read earlier bombarded my head. And then it was too late.” One second of lost focus on the Riptide half pipe is enough to send anyone, even Beck or Griff, to the ER.

  Beck’s eyes drift closed for a second. “You shouldn’t have gone up there in that state, Jordan. Why did you do it?”

  “You really think now’s the time to scold me?” I snap. Beck’s eyes widen at my reaction and I shake my head. “Look, the doctor was right. I’m irritable. I’m not myself. But before we go in there, I wanted to tell you about this. Whoever took that picture could be watching right this second.”

  Beck’s eyes scan the area, and I turn to look too, but the street appears empty.

  “We can drive to the police station right now, Jordan. Are you up for that?”

  Normally, I’d put it off. Nothing’s going to happen tonight, when I’m with Beck holed up in his apartment. But I don’t even want to get out of the car right now. I feel violated just at the possibility of some creep spying on me. So, I nod. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  Beck seems surprised by my answer, but he gets in the driver’s seat while I Google the local station and put it into the GPS map on my phone.

  While we’re waiting at the station to make a report, Beck insists on reading through everything on my phone. He looks furious, but doesn’t say a word. It’s hard not to feel like some of that fury is directed at me, for not telling him sooner maybe, or for ignoring it this long.

  A deputy takes my information and listens to my report, but doesn’t provide much feedback. He tells me I could try to get a restraining order, but given I could just block the accounts who are harassing me, that would be much easier.

  “I’ll bring it to the cyber section tomorrow. Ther
e might be enough for a cyberbullying case but without any harm occurring outside the threats, there probably isn’t enough here. I’ve heard the social media platforms don’t even make it easy for homicide detectives to get information on their users, so I can’t make any promises.”

  At least I feel like I’ve tried my best when I hand over my phone, and it’s freeing to return to Beck’s apartment without one. I know I’ve got to tell my parents and my friends what happened, but I’m too damn tired. Beck tells me to lie on the couch while he makes us dinner, and as soon I’m horizontal, I fall asleep.

  Beck

  She barely stirs when I move her to my bed later that night. I want to crawl in next to her but I’ve got about a dozen people to call. Griffin and Taylor are waiting for me when I get back to the kitchen.

  I told them everything while Jordan was passed out on the couch.

  “The crash just went viral,” Taylor informs me.

  “Great,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face.

  “This feels like my fucking fault,” Griffin says. “How do I fix it?”

  “Your fault? For what, bringing her on at Brazen? Having some chick obsessed with you?” I don’t know why I’m lashing out at Griff for taking this on himself, but I hate seeing my best friend torn up too over something that’s out of our control. I’m just angry right now, everything’s making me angry.

  Taylor surprises both of us when he says, “It’s all of our faults.” He lets out a long sigh. “And none of our faults. She didn’t want any attention, let alone this kind. Each of us played our part in bringing her from obscurity to this mess. But it was her decision too, to sign with Brazen, to compete, to be with Beck and to not respond to the wedding photos when they came out. She shouldn’t have hit the half pipe after reading all those messages, after learning she had a stalker. But she did.”