TROUBLE, A New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series)

by Elle Casey

  Charity comes back into the room. “Well, I told him what I want to do. He said he doesn’t care and he’ll sign whatever we want.”

  Barbara’s hand goes up to her mouth and her eyes fill up with tears. She looks back and forth between her husband and Charity. Suddenly I feel like I’m intruding on a moment I shouldn’t be a part of.

  Michael stands. “Well, we still have a long way to go, but I think we’ve done all we can for tonight. Who’s in the mood for some chicken Cordon Bleu?”

  I raise my hand and my belly grumbles.

  Charity helps me to my feet. “I am,” she says. “I’m starving.”

  The four of us move into the dining room for one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever eaten. Apparently, along with being a math whiz and an interior designer, Barbara is also a gourmet cook. And all that baby food she was buying … well, that was for taste tests, so she could learn how to make her own gourmet baby food here at home. She has big plans for mommyhood, and I couldn’t be happier for her and my friend Charity. Michael warmed up after the appetizers and gave us the rundown on how he was going to teach his son how to throw a football as soon as he’s able to hold one. Charity could not stop bragging about her baby’s new parents, all the way back to my place.

  No one’s home, so I go up to my room and get into my pjs. As I lie in bed thinking about our evening, I can’t help but be a tiny bit jealous. Of everyone. Teagan, Quin, Charity … I wish I had people standing around me telling me how much they love having me in their lives. But I can hardly blame anyone but myself that this isn’t happening to me. I haven’t offered anything to anyone. I’ve been focusing on myself and my situation instead of asking others what I can do for them. Colin’s been nice, but I’m pretty sure he just feels sorry for me. He’s trying to make me feel better. I think he has a protective heart. Maybe I’m taking the spot left empty by his sister or his mother in a way. Even that makes me sad, to think that I’m just a substitute for someone better, someone more wanted. Charlie used to want me. I swear, he used to love me. I could feel it when he told me.

  I’m seized by a sudden bout of madness. I’ve been avoiding the subject of Charlie not only out loud but in my own head. I haven’t seen him in months. And just like we talked about tonight with Barbara and Michael, he has rights. I don’t want him to have them, and I’m worried to death about what he might do with them, but it doesn’t change anything.

  Words spoken by Teagan and Quin come back to haunt me. He has a right to know. I’m sick over it. Just plain sick. But there’s something inside me that says I need a clean slate. I need to start from zero and work my way up from there, with no skeletons shaking their bones in a closet, threatening to come out and haunt me.

  I should call him.

  I grab my phone from the bedside table and sit up, staring at the glowing keys. My pulse-rate is twice its normal speed and I’m sweating. I know his number by heart. I could just dial it and say hi. I could test the waters and see what he says. Maybe we could meet for coffee and I could tell him about the baby in a rational, calm way and he might say that he sees the error of his ways and wants to be a good person and do the right thing by us.

  The idea makes my throat burn with pre-vomit. He raped me. He forced me into this. He’s a monster! He doesn’t deserve anything from me!

  But still … he deserves to know. I shouldn’t be alone during this time in my life. What if he realizes he made a mistake? What if he’s sorry? I mean, he knows I’m pregnant now. Randy came over here. Maybe he sent Randy to see how I was doing. Maybe Randy had a message for me. He sounded angry, but Randy never liked me. He was always jealous of Charlie and me. I shouldn’t let Randy stop me from doing what’s right.

  I’m not in a good place; I know that. I should put my phone right back down on the table and go to sleep. That would be the smart thing to do. But I’m lonely and stupid and confused about my life, so I don’t do the smart thing. I press the buttons and put the phone to my ear.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I’M GETTING READY TO LEAVE a voicemail message after the fourth ring of the phone when it gets picked up. I panic when I realize it’s not Charlie.

  “Hi. Charlie’s phone.” The girl answering giggles.

  My mouth opens but nothing comes out. The heat rises up into my face. My ears are burning.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” Her giggling has stopped.

  I can hear Charlie in the background. “Who is it? Give me that.”

  There’s some rustling around and then Charlie’s voice slams into my ear. “Hello, this is Charlie. Who’s this?”

  “Uhhh … ummm …” It’s the best I can do. No actual words will form and pass my lips.

  “Who is this? Is this a prank? Randy, if this is you …”

  “It’s not Randy,” the girl says in the background. “Look at the number.”

  A pause and then Charlie is back on the phone. “Whoever you are, go to hell.” And then he hangs up.

  I’m not conscious of taking the phone away from my ear or turning it off, but I look down sometime later and it’s there in my lap. And it’s buzzing. Someone’s calling me.

  I pick it up and see Charlie’s number there, glowing out from the dark covers around my legs.

  My heart seizes up. What? He hasn’t destroyed me enough? He wants to do some more damage? I press the green button and answer anyway. Maybe I deserve this.

  “Hello?” I hate that my voice wavers and my hand shakes.

  “Is this … Alissa?” He’s almost whispering.

  “Yes. It’s me.” I’m sick. Literally sick to my stomach. I pray I can get to the toilet in time if this goes too far.

  “What are you doing?”

  I frown over that question. “What am I doing? I don’t understand the question.”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “Because … Randy …”

  “What about Randy?”

  “He was here. He told me … he said …”

  “Here? Here where? What are you talking about? Are you on drugs or something?”

  I’m suddenly deliriously happy. He didn’t send Randy to threaten me! “Sorry. I’m at my house. And Randy came by here so I thought you sent him.”

  “Who me? Nah. He’s a dick.”

  I can’t believe he’s saying that about his best friend. Maybe there’s hope for Charlie. “Yes, he is … a very unpleasant person. I’m happy to hear you realize that.”

  “So what’s up with the call?” he asks.

  I can’t believe he’s being so casual. Like nothing ever happened between us. Like he doesn’t know I’m pregnant…

  That’s when it hits me. Maybe he doesn’t know! My mind is swarming with ideas. I could just hang up now and end this. Stay in hiding. Have my baby anonymously and put no father’s name on the birth certificate.

  My body sinks down into itself and the baby kicks me hard in the ribs. I can just imagine what Teagan and Quin would say about that. Charlie needs to know. He deserves to know everything.

  “I was just thinking maybe you and I could meet for coffee.”

  “Hold on a second.” Charlie’s voice comes through the phone muffled as he covers it and talks to someone else. I hear running steps and a slamming door before he talks again. He’s slightly breathless.

  His voice is different. Changed. No longer breezy, light and open. “Seriously, Alissa, why the fuck are you calling me?”

  “What?” My heart sinks. This is the Charlie I had expected to find.

  “Thinking you might try to get some money out of me or something?”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, well, if you think you are, think again. I don’t owe you shit.”

  “Excuse me, Charlie, but that’s not why I called. As far as I’m concerned you can just stay away from me. You and your friends.”

  “Oh, really? Then why are you calling? You must want something.”

  I cannot believe how much of a jerk he is. I must have been
seriously deluded to ever think he was a nice person. “I’m calling because … “ I don’t have an answer. Why am I calling? Because I’m desperately lonely and wanted to hear the voice of a person who I knew at some point loved me? I seriously need to get my brain examined.

  “Actually, Charlie, I don’t know why I called. Maybe to say that you raped me and I got pregnant. And I’m having the baby soon and thought you should know. But never mind. I know there’s no point in trying to have a civilized conversation with a rapist.”

  His voice is low. Menacing. It sends a chill through my entire body. “What did you just call me?”

  I steel myself against the fear. I will not let him do it to me all over again. “I called you what you are. A rapist.” I almost choke on that last word. My body is going hot and cold in waves, over and over. I’m sweating. My stomach is churning. I can picture him smiling and handing me champagne. “You did that to me. You raped me.” I wish my voice were stronger but it’s not. It’s weak and pitiful.

  He laughs. “You wish. You’re a fucking whore and you got what you wanted. Now you have regrets, but that’s your problem. Don’t try to put your shit on me. My family has lawyers and we’re not afraid to use them. You can’t prove anything because nothing happened. You hear me? Nothing happened. You’re nothing.”

  I want to say something. The perfect come-back is somewhere in my brain. But my brain isn’t functioning right now. I just sit there, swallowing over and over, trying not to vomit. I’m nothing. He’s right. I’m really nothing.

  The door to my room opens without any warning. “Alissa, you in here …?” Teagan is standing in the entrance, staring at me. “Holy shitcakes, what’s wrong?”

  “Don’t call me anymore,” I say quickly into the phone before hanging up. It flips out of my hands and lands in my lap. Scrambling around to get it back under control, I look up at Teagan, trying to put some semblance of coolness into my features while I’m dying inside.

  “Who was that?” she asks, taking another step closer.

  “No one. Sales call. Tele-marketer,” I say, my throat a raw mess. I swallow two more times, trying to keep the bile down. It’s not working.

  “Alissa, there’s no way that was a telemarketer unless it was someone selling dildoes or something, because you’re about as white as a sheet right now.”

  I struggle to get off the bed, rolling off the edge to get to my feet. I have about five seconds before I’m going to blow.

  “Where are you going?” Teagan asks, moving sideways so I can get past.

  I give up on graceful walking and run to the bathroom, getting there just in time to vomit into the toilet.

  Teagan follows me in and turns on the water at the sink.

  “Go away,” I moan, my face resting on my forearm that’s draped across the seat.

  “Like hell I’m going away,” she says. And then she presses a cool washcloth onto the back of my neck. “What the hell is going on? Who was that on the phone?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Tough titties because I do, and this time I’m not letting you blow me off over it.”

  Ignoring her is my only escape. After flushing the toilet, I get to my feet and use the washcloth she gave me to wipe the cold sweat off my face. Eating half a tube of toothpaste only partially gets the sour taste out of my mouth.

  “Come on,” Teagan says, standing in the hallway.

  “I’m going to bed,” I say, not meeting her eyes.

  “No, you’re not. Not unless you want me sleeping with you, you’re not.”

  I finally look at her. “Teagan, I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I don’t feel well, as you can see. I just want to be left alone.”

  She reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. “I think we’ve left you alone for way too long as it is. Game over. Time to face the music.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. The girl paying your bills. Come downstairs with me and let’s chat.”

  Her bossiness rubs me the wrong way. I grit my teeth and prepare to dig my heels in.

  “I’m not kidding, Alissa,” she says in an angry voice. “Stop fucking around and feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Something flicks on in me and takes over. I become a screaming maniac. “I am not feeling sorry for myself!” Spittle flies out of my mouth. “This is not a pity party! This is my life, okay?! This is my life! It’s not yours! It’s not Colin’s! It’s not … anyone else’s! Okay?!”

  Teagan smiles, completely unfazed by my outburst. “There’s the spirit.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “Maybe more toothpaste wouldn’t be a bad idea, though.”

  “What?!” I’m ready to punch something. Hard.

  She’s still smiling. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up in there. Come on. Let’s go have some cookies.”

  I shake my head at her, all the steam leaving in the face of confusion. She makes zero sense. “You are insane.”

  “In a good way, right?” She winks. “Come on. They’re not home made. I bought them at the store.”

  “So they won’t kill me, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Brat. Good one, though. Come on, pregnant girl. Come downstairs and keep me company. The guys are working late and I’m bored.” She walks ahead of me and starts down the stairs.

  I could follow her or go to my room and lock the door. My gaze flicks from my room to Teagan’s disappearing back. Do I want to be alone so I can wallow in my misery or do I want some cookies with a side of interrogation? Both sound pretty awful.

  Echoes of Charlie’s voice bounce around in my head and make the decision for me. You are nothing.

  Maybe eating a cookie and listening to Teagan come up with creative swear words will keep that monster at bay for a little while longer.

  I follow her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  TEAGAN PUTS A MUG OF tea and a plate with two cookies down in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I say, sniffing the tea.

  “It’s chamomile. Perfectly safe for you and the bambino.” She sits across from me. She’s already bitten into a cookie and has crumbs on her face. I stare as they fall away and land on the table.

  “So, who were you talking to on the phone that had you throwing up? Must be a real dickcheese.”

  I nod, pretending to be too busy with my cookie to answer.

  “Family?”

  I shake my head, no.

  “Hmmm. Not family. Ex boyfriend, maybe?”

  I keep chewing.

  “That’s what I thought. That was my first guess, but I wanted to ease into it.” She gives me her evil genius grin. At least, I think that’s what that look is on her face.

  “So, what’s his story? He know about your … situation?” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down. For some reason it makes her questioning seem not nearly as invasive.

  “His story … is that he’s a jerk. That’s his story.” I push a few cookie crumbs around on the table between us, arranging them into patterns.

  “I have a little confession to make,” Teagan says.

  My eyes go up in time to catch her sheepish look. “A confession? For me to hear?”

  “Yes.”

  This is way better than being questioned. I nod to encourage her. “Okay. Tell me. What did you do?”

  “Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” she says, grinning. “But I’m not feeling all that bad about it, to be honest.”

  “I’m not sure about the technicalities of going to confession, but I’m pretty sure you have to feel sorry for what you did.” I roll my eyes. Typical Teagan.

  “You see that vent over there?” She points to a metal grate in the ceiling behind us that I’m pretty sure is for the air-conditioning.

  “Yeeees.” I cannot imagine why she feels like a discussion of air vents is appropriate right now. I suppose I should be thankful that she’s completely changing the subject. Maybe she has ADD.


  “Well, you know, all the vents have ductwork connecting them to the a/c unit.”

  “Okaaaay.” I shrug. And I care about that because … ?

  “And I guess when the system was being put together, some of those ducts kind of were connected together.”

  I wait for the big reveal. She seems to be getting worked up about something, the way she’s staring at me, but I have no idea what it is.

  “And so it turns out that when a person is having a conversation in the attic, a person sitting down here in the kitchen can hear it.” Her eyebrows are wiggling again.

  It takes a few seconds for her words to process.

  The attic.

  The kitchen.

  They’re connected.

  “They’re connected?” I ask, fear taking my heart. “The attic and the kitchen are connected by the ducts?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Connected. Like a giant belly button cord is between them. Or a telephone line.”

  “So what does that mean?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  She taps the edge of her tea mug. “It means that nothing you say up there is private if there are people here in the kitchen.”

  “You heard me,” I whisper. “When I was talking to Colin. You heard me.” I get halfway up out of my seat.

  “No! Sit!” Teagan says, jumping up and pushing down on my shoulder. “No freaking out allowed.”

  I let her push me back down, but I’m not happy about staying. “I can’t believe you eavesdropped on me. That’s so rude!”

  “I didn’t!” She sits back down. “You were talking and we heard some of it. Not all of it. And it’s only eavesdropping if a person does it on purpose.”

  “We? Who’s we?”

  She cringes. “Pretty much all of us.”

  My head drops down to rest on the back of my arm that’s propped up on the table. “God, why do you keep torturing me like this?”

  “Are you calling me God now? Because it’s flattering, but I’m not sure I’m ready for the responsibility.”

  “Shut up, Teagan.”

  “I have a surprise for you,” she says, sounding mischievous again.