She explained about how she'd been scared that Jace would kill Tyler so she’d tried to stop it. Her voice broke slightly as she explained about Jace throwing her off him so she landed on the rocks which resulted in their blow up. She started to cry as she told him about Jace ignoring her, not going to school and falling back into the party, drugs and alcohol circuit.
She had stopped crying by the time she finished telling him about Kimberley and her advice. She left out nothing.
Once she started talking she couldn't stop, could not rein herself in, not even if she wanted to.
"I did the right thing though, right?" she asked quietly. "Please help me out, Tate. I don't know what to do. This is a serious emergency. Even Kimberley seems to be Team Jace … but a Team Jace that comes packaged with me. That conniving bitch is trying to get us together, how screwed up is that?"
Tate took a deep breath. And then he took another.
"She's not a bad person," he finally said quietly. "And I think she has a point."
Wait...what?
“What?”
“Kimberley has a point,” Tate repeated. “You’re running scared and only hurting yourself and him in the process.”
"Is this a joke?" she snapped. "What the hell has gotten into you? You don't even like Jace!"
"Isabelle, that dude is so in love with you - it's insane. Anyone can see how happy he makes you and how much better you both are together."
First Kimberley, now Tate? Was she even awake right now?
"Tate, you're meant to be my best friend; which means you automatically have to be on my side."
She heard him sigh deeply again.
"No Belle, it means that I want you to be happy no matter what and will do anything to make sure you are - even if it means kicking your arse sometimes."
"It was never going to work," she told him, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
"Obviously. You were never going to allow it to work. Jace never had a chance. I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard."
Oh. That one really hurt.
"Why are you being such a dick, Tate?"
"Why are you being so self-destructive?" he countered.
"I'm not!" she yelled.
"You are," he pressed. "You are in love with him; any idiot could see it. I knew it was happening after spending five minutes with you both!"
"He was so mad," she whispered. "I thought he was going to kill Tyler and it terrified me."
"Yeah, I call bullshit."
Isabelle's mouth dropped. "That's pretty insensitive, Tate!"
"Is it? Jace has kept his promise to me and taken care of you. He stopped a guy from assaulting you and protected you. The only thing scaring you is your feelings. You can lie to Jace, to Kimberley, and even to yourself - but give me the respect and don't lie to me."
"What do you want me to say, Tate?"
"Nothing to me," he said simply. "But Kimberley is right; you need to talk to Jace, and it needs to be soon. This is it Belle - your own fairy tale ending that you're throwing away because you're scared. You will never get this chance again, I promise."
Isabelle sighed in defeat, about to admit to Tate that he was, as usual, right and that she really should go and make Jace listen to her. But something he said was niggling at her, playing again and again in her mind as things didn’t quite add up.
“Why do you keep bringing Kimberley up?”
“You mentioned her first.”
"Yeah, but how would you know if Kimberley's a good person or not?" she asked suspiciously.
"Because I've been speaking to her," he responded honestly, and there was not a hint of guilt or embarrassment in his tone.
Not. One. Hint.
"Excuse me?"
"When you were drunk at that party and I was left to get rid of Kimberley, we talked a little out the front and exchanged numbers before she left. We've been texting and getting to know each other. She’s not who you think she is and if you gave her a proper chance. I think you’d find you have a lot in common. We’ve spoken about you heaps and she’s got some pretty good points about you self-destructing."
Betrayal.
It's the first thing she felt as his words sunk in.
Funnily enough, she knew she shouldn't feel it, but reason was quickly swallowed by anger.
"Hold on... the girl you were telling me about - that you were texting up a storm with; that's freaking Kimberley?"
"Yes," he replied firmly.
"Are you crazy? That girl hates me! She's made it her life's goal to try and destroy me - and you like her!"
"She's had a hard life," Tate said. "I know she's not perfect, but she has a good heart and she makes me feel things Isabelle - she makes it real."
"She's using you to get to me!" Isabelle screamed. "God, you're so naive, Tate!"
"And you're projecting your disgust with yourself onto anyone brave enough to be honest with you!" he shouted back.
“I thought you were my best friend, I can’t believe you kept this from me. I can’t believe you would fall for her games. She has said it herself time and time again Tate, she’s ruined … and she’s going to ruin you!”
"Jesus Christ, Isabelle! You don’t get to be mad about this, and you don’t get to be jealous or possessive over me. What you can do though is grow up and stop running away."
She hung up in a fury, her hands curled into fists. Then she started to calm down and think more clearly about what Tate had just said.
Maybe she was projecting all her rage and frustration on Kimberley.
Maybe she was just a coward afraid to open herself up to love.
Maybe she didn’t freaking care.
CHAPTER 14
JACE
Jace lay slumped on the ripped brown couch, tracing a hole with a finger while drool slipped down his slack jaw.
This was becoming his nightly routine; lying close to passing out in his own drool, unable to move more than a couple of fingers, surrounded by people who were honest about not giving a shit about him.
The complete feeling of nothing was the best thing to happen to him in years. It stopped him from thinking about ...
he couldn't really remember, but there was a dull ache in his chest now that wouldn’t go away.
Maybe he needed another line, or perhaps another joint.
"Jesus Jace, get up!"
Moving a heavy arm to cover his face, he curled away from the harsh and high pitched tone.
He didn't want to come down from where he was, he didn't want to talk to anyone or listen or feel. Why couldn't everyone just let him float away until he was too far to reach?
Sharp nails dug into his arm and then he was being forced into a sitting position as a mane of red hair caught his attention.
Reaching out, he twirled a strand around his finger.
"You have fire on your head," he said nonsensically. "I can't feel it burning me though - I can't feel anything."
"Shit," painted red lips muttered and then his drooping head was being held up by a taloned hand. "What have you taken?"
"What does it matter?" he replied, "feels good."
"No, it doesn't. You don't feel anything, and trust me; that's way worse."
With her hand still on his jaw he was forced to focus his gaze on her, muddy brown eyes watching him in concern, red lips highlighted by pale skin.
Kimberley.
"Hey Kim." He gave her a lazy smile. "You want to fuck away the pain with me?"
Her face went tense and she looked like she was going to cry for a minute, but then wiped all emotion away.
"No. I want you to get up and get your shit together. This isn't you."
"Isn't it?" he asked. "Feels like me."
"Thought you felt nothing?"
"I am nothing," he told her quietly, slowly pulling himself from her grasp.
He wanted her to either leave or let him lose himself with her. Looking at him like she was, holding him tenderly like he was precious - it was breaking through
and he was starting to remember why he came to this party and why he never wanted to leave.
"She does love you."
The words smacked against him and rattled around in his head.
No. No. No.
"She's an idiot and utterly useless, but she's hurting just as bad as you are - her demons are just a little different from yours."
He turned his gaze to her and with a heavy hand pulled her so she was sitting in his lap.
"I don't want to talk about it, I just want to feel. Don't you remember, Kim? When I would take your pain away for you?"
Tears did fill her eyes now and she swallowed roughly.
He didn't like the wetness in her eyes and he didn't like knowing he was causing it.
"I remember," she whispered.
He moved closer so their faces were nearly touching.
"Will you do that for me?"
She shook her head at him, red strands flying from side by side, catching his attention.
"Why not? You want this. You love me and you want things to be how they were, right?"
She looked at him for a few moments and when she leant in, he closed his eyes to accept her kiss.
Instead her mouth came to his ear.
"Not like this. We can never go back Jace, and you should never want to."
A slow boil began in his stomach, and the image of throwing her off him assaulted him so viciously he had to sit on his hands and try to deep breathe through it. He was just like his Dad – a fucking monster who hurt those weaker than him.
"You need to leave," he told her. "You shouldn't be near me like this."
"You're not going to hurt me, Jace."
He cocked one eye open to stare at her. "Yeah? How do you figure that?"
She gave that weird sad smile again and moved from his lap.
"Because the only person you're interested in hurting is yourself. I need you to get up and let me take you out of here. Wallowing in self-pity isn't going to bring Isabelle back."
"Don't!" he yelled, garnering attention from the whole room. "Don't you say her name!"
Kimberley rolled her eyes at him, yanking him to his feet so she could tow him away. His brain was so muddled and stuck on that one word, his chest feeling tight and painful that he didn't try to stop her until a cool breeze swept across his face and then freezing liquid was poured over his head.
"What the hell? WHY!" he yelled angrily, jumping around trying to gain some warmth.
The pleasant nothingness was gone now and the crushing disappointment and disgust assaulted him.
Smiling hazel eyes. Warm soft skin. A light laugh. Blonde silky hair, and a heart beating only for her.
"What is your damage?" he demanded, scowling at Kimberley holding an empty two Litre water bottle in her hands.
"Welcome back," she said dryly.
"Is this the new way of torture you've discovered to punish me?"
Rolling her eyes, she turned to the open door of the blue Mazda they were standing next to and handed him a towel.
"If you would leave your pity party for a second, you would see that I'm actually trying to save you. And if you stopped being a douche and took hold of any of the dozen hands reaching out for you - you may discover that you could save yourself and Isabelle."
And there was the laceration of his chest again with one stupid name.
"She doesn't want me. No one cares what I'm doing and I don't need to be saved."
Kimberley sighed in disappointment and gestured to the car.
"Everyone needs to be saved in some way, Jace. Get in the car, I'll take you home and you can sleep this off."
Feeling exhausted and not in the mood to argue anymore, he clumsily climbed into the passenger seat, resting his head against the window.
"Did Maia put you up to this?" he asked after a few tense minutes.
"Nobody put me up to this, and if Maia was going to ask anyone for help - it sure as hell wouldn't be me. Although, if you give even one shit about your sister, you might want to at least pretend you're not trying to check out."
Her words sunk in and the truth of them lodged painfully inside him, pulling shame to the surface.
"I'm not trying to check out," he snapped.
"God, you and Barbie are just as screwed as each other. Stop lying to me and to yourself."
Barbie?
"Have you spoken to her?" Jace asked eagerly.
Kimberley glanced at him. "Turns out the closest thing Barbie has to a friend in this town - is me."
That shouldn't have hurt and plagued him with guilt but it did.
He had just assumed everyone would go on as usual, and Isabelle would forget all about him while she laughed it up with their friends about Jace the idiot.
"Is she OK?" he asked, though he knew he sounded pathetic, but he couldn't help himself.
Kimberley's jaw tightened and alarm pushed its way through the blossoming emotion in his chest.
"Kim?" he prodded.
She sighed deeply, eyes on the road.
"That would depend on how you define 'OK'."
What the hell did that mean?
Kimberley flicked her gaze to him briefly, read the question, but didn't offer an explanation.
"Do you even care?"
Yes. No. Yes. Shit! He knew he shouldn't.
Kimberley didn't look at him again, but the glimmer of a smile tugging at her lips told him she knew the battle he was waging internally.
“Are you enjoying this?” he snapped.
Kimberley smiled at him softly. “Having a role besides the perpetually messed up slut? Yeah, I could get used to it.”
He blinked away some of the haze and tried to really focus on her. He wasn’t by any means sober so he couldn’t really be a hundred percent sure, but she looked better - almost softer.
“You’re different,” he said.
Kimberley pulled into his driveway and turned to him. “Because you’re high and I’m sober for once.”
“No,” he told her and reached forward to capture a bright lock between his fingers. The hair was soft and clean; not caked with sweat, or matted with vomit. She had her painted red lips as usual, but the rest of her makeup was more subtle which meant you could actually see how pretty she was. “That’s not it.”
A faint flush crept across her cheeks and she shrugged. “Sleep it off, Jace.”
He opened his door, sliding his body out, but turned his head to the side so he could murmur.
“You look pretty and happy. I like that for you.”
He shut the door behind him then stumbled towards his front door. He prayed to God Maia had left it unlocked for him; otherwise he was going to be sleeping on a pool chair. He kept his balcony locked now and there was no way he’d risk seeing her by sleeping on his worn couch.
Stumbling over his own feet he collided with the wooden door in a crash loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, which naturally he found hilarious. He chuckled to himself as he reached for the doorknob but, as his hand made contact, it was opened from the inside and he lurched forward in a tumble.
From his new position on the tiled floors he looked up into the weary face of his mother.
Just perfect.
“Sorry about the noise, I’ll go to bed now,” he told her in a slur of words.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked, and if he wasn’t high he could have sworn her voice housed anger.
“Uh, bed time?” he replied with a smirk, moving onto his knees.
With surprising strength she yanked him to his feet by his collar and then hauled him into the downstairs bathroom, shoving him in the shower and then turning the freezing water on him.
“FUCK!” he screeched. “What the hell, Mum? It’s fucking freezing!”
“You watch your tone and you watch your language,” she hissed in return. “I haven’t slept in days wondering where you’ve been. Your teachers tell me you haven’t been at school. It’s been a week since you’ve come home, and you jus
t stroll in out of your mind without any explanation!”
He glared up at her. “Why do you even care?”
“Because I am your Mother!”
“Since when?” he exploded.
She blanched at his words but didn’t run away like he expected.
“I deserved that,” she murmured. “Sober up and then meet me in the kitchen.”
“I’ll pass,” he told her.
She moved under the spray, getting right in his face. “I wasn’t asking. You’ve got ten minutes.”
Dripping wet, she walked away and left him in the bathroom, returning only a few moments later with a set of fresh clothes for him before silently leaving again.
Home is Where the Heart Is (Home #1) Page 26
