Pandemonium (MC Sinners Next Generation #1)

by Bella Jewel

“I’m not ignoring you,” I say, my voice dead, empty.

  “You are. I know you’re hurting; I know because I’m hurting too . . .”

  “You don’t know!” I bellow. “Nobody knows. She was my daughter, my baby . . .”

  “She was mine too,” she screams, hitting me again. “Mine too!”

  “Stop hitting me,” I bark, grabbing her wrists and flicking her off. “You don’t hit me!”

  “We have to get through this, Luke,” she sobs, dropping to the ground. “We have to get through this for her.”

  My heart burns, and I lower myself to the ground, taking her into my arms, feeling nothing but knowing she’s right—we have to get through this. We have to honor my baby girl’s memory by coping. She wouldn’t want us to live in agony, but the very thought of not thinking about her every second of every day makes me want to fucking die.

  “I’m not ready to move on,” I rasp.

  “I’m your wife,” she sobs. “I’m hurting too.”

  “I know,” I grate out.

  “I lost her too.”

  “I know.”

  She pauses. “We can’t keep going on like this.”

  “It’s been a fucking month,” I say, flinging her off. I’m tired of hearing it’s time to start healing—it’ll never be time to heal. She was my daughter, for heaven’s sake. I’ll never move on.

  “I know,” she sobs. “But you’re shutting down. Each day is getting worse . . . Lucas, I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “Then stop,” I growl, leaning in close, “asking me to forget the only thing I was living for.”

  Her face breaks, and she forces herself to her feet. “If that’s how you feel,” she whispers, turning and rushing out.

  “Jenn,” I croak, my voice broken.

  She doesn’t hear it.

  I don’t even know if I wanted her to.

  CHAPTER 9

  NOW – AVA

  When Lucas is done informing me of all the new updates, I walk him to the door. As soon as I open it, Dad is standing outside with Cade and now Danny. Muff is gone. My eyes flick to Danny, who is glaring at Lucas. Am I missing something?

  Dad steps forward, his hand coming out and curling around my arm, pulling me to his side. I flinch. He doesn’t notice. None of them do, except Lucas. His eyes zone in on me, and he can see it.

  My insides slowly breaking.

  “You done here?” Dad asks.

  Lucas moves his eyes to him. “Yeah, I’m done.”

  “She goin’ to be safe?”

  Silence.

  “I can’t give that information.”

  Dad steps forward. “She’s my daughter, so tell me, Shadow—is she fuckin’ safe?”

  Lucas leans forward, and in a ragged voice, he hisses, “No she’s not safe on the fucking streets alone. But right here, right now, she’s safe. If she was my daughter, Jackson, I’d keep a watch.”

  My eyes widen. I was right; Lucas is scary.

  “Get outta my face,” Dad hisses.

  “Please stop,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, Prez, slow it down,” Cade says, his eyes on me.

  “It’s time for you to leave,” Dad says to Lucas.

  “Was on my way,” he grunts, then turns to me. “You need anything, you call, yeah?”

  “She won’t need anything,” Dad barks.

  My chest constricts. Lucas keeps his eyes on me. I mouth yeah. He understands.

  He understands something nobody else does.

  I just don’t know what it is.

  ~*~*~*~

  “You okay, baby?” Dad asks as soon as Lucas is gone.

  “Yeah,” I say, avoiding Danny’s gaze which is firmly pinned to me. “I’m just going to get some sleep. I’m feeling a bit off.”

  “All right, but I’m going to keep a watch here anyway,” Dad says pressing his lips to my head. “In case you need someone.”

  “Thanks Dad,” I whisper, pressing my cheek to his chest.

  “Your momma is coming past later; make sure you let her in, yeah?”

  I smile weakly. “I will.”

  “She worries, but she cares, Ava. Remember that.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  He hugs me tight and steps back. Cade studies my face and then steps in, curling his hand around the back of my neck and kissing my forehead. “Stay strong, princess.”

  “I will, thanks, Cade.”

  “Call Skye. She’s been worried.”

  “I will,” I say again.

  “All right, boy,” Dad says to Danny. “Let’s ride. We got shit to do.”

  “Actually, I’m just going to hang about with Ava,” Danny says, not moving his eyes from mine for even a second.

  Dad stares at me, then at Danny. “She said she wants to rest.”

  “And I’ll make sure she does. I’ll sit and be her watch while you sort your business.”

  Dad smiles. He trusts Danny, and it makes it easy for him knowing he’s here. Danny knows that, and it’s exactly why he agreed to stay.

  “All right, call me later, baby,” Dad says to me, before ushering Cade out.

  When they’re gone, Danny turns to me with his arms crossed.

  “Why did you do that?” I ask gently.

  “Because I’m your friend, your best friend, for that matter, and there is something in your eyes I do not fucking like. So I’m stayin’ until I know you’re okay.”

  That’ll be never.

  But I don’t argue. I’m tired of arguing.

  “Okay,” I say, as I disappear into my room.

  I sleep for god only knows how many hours, but I’m woken to the shrieking sounds of a girl. I jerk upright, sweating, panting, my heart racing, and I glance around. It takes me a few minutes to realize the screaming didn’t come from anyone but instead the agony inside my heart. I press my hand over my chest and steady my breathing. Did I scream? Will Danny know? I wipe the lone tear the slides down my cheek and throw myself out of bed.

  I need a distraction. I put on my brave face and walk downstairs. The only way I’m going to protect my dad from the pain intended for him is to act like I’m myself again.

  It’ll be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ll do it for him.

  I get downstairs and the lights are low, dimmed for comfort. Danny is standing in my kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, two glasses in the other. He holds them up. “Heard you wake up. Figured you might need this.”

  Did I scream? If I did, he’s not saying anything. I’m grateful for that.

  “What time is it?”

  “Midnight.”

  My eyes widen. “And you’re still here?”

  “I’ll always be here.”

  My heart aches at that.

  I step forward, and he pours a glass of whiskey. I take it, shoot it down, and he fills it again. Then we find a spot on the floor and sit, quietly. Neither of us say anything for a long, long time.

  “How are you really doing?” he finally asks.

  “I feel like I’m dying,” I whisper.

  “Ava, you need to talk, to let us in.”

  “What for, D?” I ask, glancing at him. “What’s it going to do? It’s isn’t going to change anything. The only thing that’ll make it easier is time, and that seems so far away.”

  “You can talk to me, vent, get it off your chest.”

  “I was hurt. It was . . .” I choke on my words, “awful. More than you could ever imagine.”

  Danny pours us a shot. He knows me. He knows there is nothing he can say that’ll make it better, but him being here, supporting me, drinking with me, that’s enough.

  “Well, I’m here. You know that.”

  I know that.

  We clink glasses and drink some more.

  It numbs the pain.

  After six shots, it’s gone. The pain in my heart, the pain that’s lingered in my belly for days has eased and I feel free, like I can breathe again. I laugh, I giggle, I talk without inhibition. It feels as though
nothing happened. Maybe it was all just a bad dream. So I drink some more, and I keep doing it until every single part of me is numb, and the only thing I can feel is the shaking of laughter in my chest as Danny and I lie beside each other.

  “Remember when Skye went ass up in front of that guy at school she was trying to ask out?”

  I laugh loudly. “God, the poor girl—she just tripped and fell right in front of him.”

  “Landing on her face.”

  We both laugh.

  “But she was so damned beautiful he asked her out anyway.” I snort.

  “She is so damned beautiful, it wouldn’t matter what happened—she’d always be worth asking out.”

  “So why haven’t you done it?” I prod.

  “You know exactly why. Cade would lose his shit. Addi would gut me.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  He snorts. “You know I’m not.”

  “Okay, you’re not.”

  “So I just have to watch from afar as she gets married and has cute kids.”

  I scoff. “That’s taking it a little far. She’s still young and having fun.”

  He gets a faraway look in his eyes that tells me he wishes it was him she was having fun with.

  I don’t blame him.

  We talk well into the morning, and I drift off to sleep with him beside me on the bed, and it’s completely dream-free and I sleep like the dead.

  Until the morning.

  When it all comes flooding back.

  And I start searching for that relief again.

  And my life spirals out of control.

  CHAPTER 10

  THEN – LUCAS

  “Where’s Jennifer?” Her mom asks, walking through my house three months after my daughter passed. I know what she sees—a stinking, awful mess. I haven’t bothered to do much but force myself to eat, sleep and wash occasionally. Everything else is as it was, including her room. I haven’t been in there since I lost her. I haven’t . . . I can’t.

  “Don’t know,” I mutter, staring blankly out the window. “Probably getting drunk.”

  “Lucas,” she says softly, looking to me. “She’s drinking because she’s hurting.”

  “She’s hurting?” I laugh bitterly. “And I’m not?”

  “Honey, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep drowning. You have a job and a wife . . .”

  “And no daughter,” I hiss.

  “This isn’t what she’d want for you.”

  I glare at her. “Don’t tell me what she’d want.”

  “Lucas, honey, you’re both suffering, hell, we all are, but we need to support each other. It was an accident. She’s gone—let us mourn her and try to fix what’s been broken.”

  “Could you just get over Jenn if she died?” I bark, and she flinches, her eyes, pale and broken, sinking even more.

  “Lucas,” she whispers.

  “Well, could you?”

  “Of course not . . .”

  “Then don’t you sit here and tell me how to deal with this. She was my daughter. The only thing I loved more than my own life. She’s gone. She’s gone because I didn’t protect her when I should have; she’s gone because you insisted on getting that stupid fucking pool!”

  I know the words are wrong the second they leave my lips, but I can’t take them back. The emptiness in my chest has grown to a gaping fucking hole, and any emotion in my body has gone. Her mom stumbles back, her hand clutching her chest. “You don’t . . . you don’t . . .”

  “Just leave,” I say, my voice cracking. “Just leave.”

  She turns, rushing out with a sob.

  I turn back and stare at the wall without feeling a damned thing.

  ~*~*~*~

  “Don’t judge me!” Jennifer bellows, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re allowed to sit here and suffer, but you won’t let me deal with this in my own way.”

  “Drinking is not dealing. I might be suffering, but I’m not drowning it,” I mutter.

  She snarls. “I’m just trying to cope, like you.”

  I shrug. “Whatever.”

  “God dammit!” she screams. “I’m your fucking wife. When is this going to end?”

  I look up at her; I really take her in. She’s gotten skinnier, her face gaunt, her body frail. She’s been doing more than drinking—it’s clear now. She always had a problem with alcohol, but I never expected her to turn to drugs.

  “When did you start taking drugs?”

  She flinches. “I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”

  “Don’t you?” I laugh bitterly. “Because you do remember, I’m a cop, and I’ve seen a lot of junkies.”

  “You’re not a fucking cop. Right now you’re a pathetic shell of a man. Can you imagine what she’d think of you right now? Her daddy, sinking himself, killing himself instead of healing.”

  Rage flashes across my vision. “Healing?” I bark. “What are you doing then, Jennifer? Are the drugs your way of fucking healing?”

  “Yes,” she screams.

  “Bullshit,” I bellow. “Bullshit!”

  “You know nothing.”

  “I know you’re smothering your pain. At least I’m facing mine.”

  “Facing it.” She laughs bitterly. “By sitting here, letting yourself sink. It’s time to get over it, Lucas. It’s time to attempt to move on. I can’t take it anymore, I won’t! If you don’t pull yourself out of this, I’ll leave.”

  I look her dead in the eye. “No one is stopping you.”

  And just like that, I continue to break everything that matters to me.

  CHAPTER 11

  NOW – AVA

  “And you’re doing okay?” Mom asks, rushing around my house, picking things up.

  I stare at her from my spot on the couch, a spot that I’m spending more and more time sitting at. I am barely making it through each day, and trying to keep a brave face is proving to be harder and harder.

  “I’m getting there.” I smile weakly. It’s a lie.

  She frowns and comes over, sitting beside me, taking my hand. “You know I’m here for you, Avie. Every second of every day. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  “I know.” I squeeze her hand. “It’s just going to take time.”

  “And let it. Time is good, time heals, but don’t heal alone. I’m so worried about you.”

  I smile. It’s broken. She knows it, and I know it.

  Mom pulls me into her arms and holds me, like she’s done so many times over the last week. She just holds me, because she knows it’s what I need. She knows that deep down in my soul, it brings me comfort. She and Addi have been great, stopping by every day, helping me out. I’m going back to work tomorrow, and I’m grateful for the distraction. Maybe doing something normal will help quiet the voices in my head.

  “Are you excited to go back to work?” she asks, pulling away.

  “Excited and nervous,” I admit. “I hope the hours work for me.”

  My boss gave me new hours after he changed the structure of the company. I’m now working from twelve p.m. until six p.m. daily. I’m okay with that, because it allows me the mornings to recover from the night before. I dream of her face every time I close my eyes, and therefore sleep is getting scarcer with each passing day.

  “I think they’ll be great; it’ll give you the morning to do whatever you want.”

  I nod. “That’s true.”

  “I’m going to finish cleaning, and then we’re going to go out to lunch, okay?”

  I force a smile and nod.

  I’ll do whatever it takes to shield them from the raging river inside me.

  ~*~*~*~

  “Ava,” Michael snaps. “You did these reports all wrong.”

  I swivel in my chair, flustered. I barely slept last night. Having a few drinks before I went to bed helped, but as soon as the alcohol wore off, I was awake.

  It’s only my third day back at work and I’m barely able to get out of bed most mornings. I
cry more than I smile. I barely eat, and I’m drinking way more than I should to try and numb the pain.

  That means my work is suffering.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I . . . I thought I checked over them.”

  “Well, you didn’t. You need to get these done before you go home today,” he barks.

  I nod, exhausted.

  Michael slams the papers down onto my desk and storms out. I glance at them. Nothing I’m doing is right. I’m running and running, but there seems to be no end. I put my head in my hands and fight back the fear, pain and depression. Doing this each day is getting harder and harder. I don’t honestly know if I can cope anymore.

  Where will I go from here, if there is no longer any strength left in my body to fight?

  I finish the papers, my mind a blur. When I’m done, I put them on Michael’s desk and leave. I walk out to the front of the building where my car sits—I no longer park underground. The street is busy, and cabs honk as they try to swerve through the compacted traffic. I walk towards my car but stop when I see Lucas leaning against it.

  I haven’t seen him since the day he left my house.

  “Ava,” he says as I near, his eyes scanning me, narrowing when it becomes clear he doesn’t like what he sees.

  “What can I do for you, Detective?” I ask, my voice tired.

  He studies me, really looking into my eyes. “I wanted to see how you’re doin’.”

  “Do you check in on all your cases?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

  He blinks, then says calmly, “Only the ones I worry about.”

  “Why would you worry about me?” I say, adjusting my handbag on my shoulder. “I’m fine.”

  “I see you haven’t gotten better at lying.”

  I flinch. He pushes off the car, his black tee stretching over his chest as he moves in front of me. He’s so tall, so big, so muscled. He’s an intimating man. He looks down at me, his brown eyes full of concern, his dark hair falling over his forehead. He’s such a beautiful broken man.

  “I’m getting through each day,” I manage.

  “Is that enough?”

  “It really isn’t your problem.”

  He crosses his arms. “I’m making it my problem.”

  “Why?” I whisper. “Why are you so concerned about how things are going for me? I can only think of one reason you’d want to be here, and it has nothing to do with me, but instead my father and his club.”