Rebel Soul: (Rebel Series Book 1) ((Rebel Series))

by J. C. Hannigan

  Elle crawled up beside me and wrapped her arms around me, sobbing against my shoulder. “I’m so glad he didn’t; I’m so glad you’re okay, Tessa. I’m so glad Brock was there. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that creep following you. I suck as a best friend.”

  I patted her shoulder wordlessly, too spent to even consider thinking of a response.

  * * *

  I awoke early the next morning. My body was still sore and my left eye felt puffy, as if the skin beneath it was swollen. I reached a hand up tentatively and touched it. It was definitely swollen, and it hurt.

  Fresh tears flowed down my cheeks. Even though Chris hadn’t gotten as far as he could have, I still felt violated and disgusting. I crawled out from our tent, leaving a sleeping Elle to softly snore on her own.

  The sun hadn’t quite risen yet. It was still early…it probably wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Nobody else seemed to be awake. The fire pit was still smoking a little from last night’s fire, and there were beer bottles scattered around the clearing.

  I walked on shaky legs to my truck, my body still very sore from trying to fight off Chris’s unwanted advances. I walked up and glanced in the square side mirror.

  I looked like hell. My hair had mostly fallen out from its braid, and was a tangled mess around my face. My left eye was almost completely swollen shut and there was dried blood in the corners of my mouth, likely from when I bit down on my tongue. I put a fist to my mouth, fresh tears spilling out from my eyes.

  There was no way I could go home like this. My dad and my brothers would flip. The ’I told you so’ speech would come, along with a severe grounding for disobeying my father’s rules. He thought I was at Elle’s house for the night; he didn’t think I was going to a bush party where boys would be present.

  “Tessa?”

  I whirled around at the sound of that deep voice. Brock stood at the front of my truck, his dog at his feet. In the near distance, his trailer door stood open. He must have seen me from inside, standing here like an idiot crying. I desperately tried to wipe the tears away. The last thing I needed was Brock Miller’s pity. “What?”

  He watched me for a moment, then sighed and cautiously approached me. He kept his eyes on me the whole time, looking straight into mine as if I was a deer and he was trying not to startle me. “It’s okay for you not to be fine. You know that, right? What happened last night was traumatic. You’re allowed to feel scared.”

  “Thanks for your permission,” I retorted, averting my eyes so Brock wouldn’t see how profoundly his words affected me. I took a shaky breath.

  “You’re welcome,” Brock said, fighting a smile.

  “I’m not scared,” I told him, crossing my arms defiantly. And I wasn’t scared, at least…not anymore. I acknowledged the terrible situation and was thankful that Brock and his dog had shown up in time. I was angry at myself for having gotten drunk in the first place. I was angry that it happened. “I’m pissed.”

  The corner of Brock’s mouth perked up. “I bet you are.”

  I paused, listening to the chorus of snoring coming from the tents around us. I wrung my hands, uncomfortable. I couldn’t meet his intense gaze. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. “Thanks…for, you know...” I finally said, looking down at the German shepherd mix at his heel. The dog tilted his head and wagged his tail.

  “Don’t mention it,” Brock replied, his eyes serious and his jaw clenching as if the memory left a bad taste in his mouth.

  I averted my eyes and pursed my lips, drawing in a deep breath through my nostrils. I felt Brock move closer and my heart started to beat frantically.

  He stopped less than a foot away, his large hand gently tipping my chin up so he could inspect my face. I knew what he was seeing: the swollen eye, the dried blood caked around my lips, the drunk girl he’d had to rescue. His jaw clenched and he sighed heavily.

  “Come with me,” he said, nodding back towards his trailer. “I have something that will help bring down the swelling.”

  “What?” I was fighting with everything I had to appear unaffected by his touch, but my heart felt like it was about to take flight from my chest at any given moment.

  Brock smiled morosely. “I’m no stranger to black eyes, Tessa. Let me help you.”

  I swallowed hard, nodding once. It was difficult to ignore just how much I liked how he said my name. He spoke it like a caress.

  His hand dropped from my chin, breaking me from my thoughts. He led the way back to his trailer and I followed stiffly, bewildered at what was transpiring between us… at least on my end.

  The trailer was tiny, but it wasn’t cramped. There weren’t enough personal items inside for it to feel cramped. I could see a bedroom towards the left, just past the tiny kitchen. His bed was left unmade, his covers carelessly tossed to the floor, revealing the white sheet beneath. There was a thin door that likely led to the bathroom, and directly to my right was a kitchen table with bench seats that probably doubled as a bed or sofa, true to trailer nature.

  Brock gestured for me to sit down at the table and opened one of the storage drawers. He pulled out a clean cloth and gently ran it under the tap. He looked over his shoulder, giving me a small half smile. He seemed a little uncomfortable with me in his space or maybe with me in general. I flushed, stupidly wondering if his discomfort came from him feeling what I felt.

  He walked over, holding the cloth in his hand, and crouched between my legs. My heart jumped in my chest again, just after it had started to settle. The way those steel coloured eyes pierced through me made me feel short of breath. It was the strangest thing…I could have sworn he felt it too. The air between us shifted, becoming denser and warmer as Brock gently wiped at my face, cleaning the blood away. His hands were gentle and definitely not the hands I remembered clenched in anger from last night, the hands that I knew were capable of causing serious damage.

  Unable to take the intensity behind his gaze a moment longer, my eyes dropped down to look at those tender hands.

  “What happened?” I demanded, noticing the bruising and cuts on his knuckles.

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said, his expression closing off immediately. He stood up quickly, done with washing the blood away, and went back to the kitchen sink. He ran the cloth under it again, this time turning on only the cold water. Then he reached into the ice box in his tiny refrigerator, grabbing a bag of frozen beans. He put the cloth around it and returned, pressing it against my swollen eye firmly.

  It was so cold that it hurt, and I instantly tried to wince away from the pressure.

  “Don’t move,” Brock instructed. His voice was gentle again. “I know its cold, but it’ll bring the swelling down.”

  I bit my lip and tried to focus on breathing. “So…what brings you back to town?” I asked, trying to divert my attention away from the ice cold compress Brock was pressing to my face.

  “Lots of things,” Brock replied evasively. I blinked up at him with my good eye, unimpressed with his answer. The corners of his lips perked up. “I’m here to build a cabin. I told you that.”

  “Oh, right. I guess I forgot.” I exhaled. The silence stretched on between us, and I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from asking further stupid questions. Brock clearly didn’t want to talk to me.

  “My mom is sick,” he said after several long minutes, when I’d finally given up on making small talk.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that…” I muttered, looking back up at him. His expression was still guarded, his jaw tense.

  “Yeah, well. That’s life,” Brock said gruffly. He pulled the cold compress away for a moment, assessing the swelling. “It’s beginning to go down. Another ten minutes with this on and it should almost be as right as rain,” he added, pressing it back. “Do you think you can hold it there? I’m going to make some coffee.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said quickly, fumbling for the ice pack. My hand brushed against his, and the nerves in my fingertips danced. Goose b
umps rose on my arm and I prayed that Brock didn’t see them. I watched with my uncovered eye as Brock took one step away from me, ending up right at the counter of his tiny kitchen. He was so tall that his head almost touched the ceiling of the trailer, and he had to duck to avoid hitting the light.

  I frowned, trying to figure out exactly what it was about this guy that had me all twisted and clumsy. I didn’t do butterflies, usually. Not to this extent. While I daydreamed about the whole falling in love thing, I didn’t fall easily and I never had. I crushed on guys, I’d kissed a few and slept with one, but I didn’t react like this. That intense, all-consuming burning need to be with someone never came over me like it was now as I sat in Brock’s tiny trailer with a bag of frozen beans pressed against my battered face.

  The circumstances for this were not ideal. I’d been attacked just last night, for Christ’s sake. But my body was still reacting to Brock’s mere presence, and I was beginning to panic about it.

  “Do you want some? It’s instant,” Brock added, looking back over his shoulder at me, catching me blatantly staring at him. He grinned, and a dimple appeared in the left corner of his lip. His dark eyes seemed to sparkle. This was a smile that transformed his entire face, making him look playful and approachable and even more desirable than before. This was a smile that knocked the wind out of me.

  “Want some what? What’s instant?” I blinked, feeling dazed.

  “Coffee…” he said slowly. He frowned and assessed me carefully. “Did you hit your head last night? You might have a concussion.”

  I flushed a deep shade of red. I’d had concussions before, and this definitely wasn’t a concussion. “No, I’m fine. I’m just tired. I should go.”

  Brock tilted his head, considering me. His thick, dark hair fell onto his forehead, and I wanted to get up and run my hands through it. “I don’t know if you should drive. I’m still not entirely positive that you don’t have a concussion.”

  “I don’t,” I sighed, figuring he was probably right about the driving thing. My head did feel like a jack hammer had done a number on it. “I’ll wake up Elle.”

  Setting the bag of beans down on the table, I stood up. I blinked gingerly, surprised that my eye felt better already; less swollen.

  “Here, have some of these,” Brock said, handing me a bottle of extra strength Advil and a bottle of water. I took two and held out the pill bottle for him to take. His fingers brushed against mine again, an electric shock running up the length of my arm. All I could do was stare.

  His hand was large and rough; a man’s working hands. Hands had never been my thing, but suddenly I found myself reverently wishing these particular hands would touch me. If I was primed from such a casual brush of his skin against mine, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he actually touched me.

  I swallowed hard, looking up at him again. Brock’s eyes were focused on my face, on my lips. My heart was rattling around in my chest. I stepped back, overwhelmed by the intensity behind his gaze. I needed space. I needed to breathe. “Thanks. For, you know…”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, giving me half a smile.

  I pretty much bolted out of Brock’s trailer, away from the heavy air and those intense eyes, away from my stupid, girlish response to him.

  When I heard a rustling coming from the tents, I turned to look. Elle was unzipping the flap and spilling out, her eyes frantically looking for me. When she finally saw me, she visibly relaxed. She crawled the rest of the way out of the tent as I approached.

  I watched her expression change from relaxed to on edge as she took in my face. “You look better than you did last night,” she exclaimed, touching my chin and turning my face to look at my cheek and eye. “It’s still a little swollen though.”

  “Brock,” she said, looking behind me. I turned, seeing him a few paces behind me. I hadn’t even realized he’d followed me out from the trailer. “Could you tell Braden when he wakes up that I’ve taken Tessa back to my place to get cleaned up? She’s got a show this afternoon and absolutely cannot look like this. I need to break out my best makeup for this job,” Elle added, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she studied me.

  I groaned, nearly forgetting about the horse show entirely. Every year, I entered the Show Jumper competition with my horse, Scared Spirit. Spirit was a fantastic jumper, and I supposed I was pretty talented too.

  Normally, I loved feeling Spirit’s powerful body beneath my thighs as we flew over jumps. We usually placed in the top three. Today, jumping was the last thing I wanted to do. I was still shaky from the close encounter last night. Plus, I knew jumping would mean that I’d just have to see my father even sooner. It was tradition for him to help me load up Spirit and accompany me to the show.

  Brock focused on my face again and he nodded once. “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

  * * *

  Elle drove my truck to her place and forced me to sit down on her bed with a cold compress against my cheek and eye for an hour. Then I showered and got dressed in clean clothes I’d packed the night before. I came back into her room after leaving the bathroom, spotting her fussing over the massive amounts of makeup on her vanity desk.

  “Sit,” she demanded, pointing at the velvet chair. I obeyed, my feet carrying me across the room. I sat heavily, a sigh escaping my lips. “Don’t furrow your brow,” Elle scolded, shaking her head. She set to work, adding foundation and contouring. Finally, she blended it all together and added a little mascara and eyeliner. Elle’s makeup skills hid the bruising on my cheek completely, and the end result was me looking normal, aside from a hint of swelling.

  I pressed a finger against the skin nervously, worried that last night would be written all over my face and that my Dad would just know. I was afraid to go home; afraid to face him. Elle spotted me fretting.

  “You can just tell your dad that your allergies are bothering you,” she said. “Or, you know…you could tell him the truth.”

  I frowned at her. “Right, so I can get grounded for the entire duration of summer? Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “I highly doubt your father will ground you for being attacked,” Elle huffed, crossing her arms like a sulking toddler.

  “No, but he’d ground me for lying about where I was last night, and for going to an unsupervised party with alcohol and boys,” I retorted.

  “Woah, woah, woah!” a voice from the doorway startled us both and we jumped. Elle’s mother, Sue, was standing in the doorway. The expression on her face clearly said that we were busted.

  I swallowed hard, looking back to Elle with a panicked look on my face. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s under control.”

  Sue Thompson was not going to let it rest. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway, fixing us both with her no bullshit mom-stare that made me want to confess everything. I wondered briefly if my mom would have had that ability if she was still alive.

  “What happened last night, girls?” Beneath the calm, I knew she was vibrating with anger. Elle was her only daughter, and she was fiercely protective of her. By proxy, and because I’d been her best friend’s daughter, she was equally as protective of me.

  Elle sighed heavily, not sensing an out either. “Well, you know how I said we were going to the bush to camp and stuff, right?” she asked. Sue nodded, pursing her lips. Sue knew that we drank and hung out with friends, but in her words, she’d rather know where we were, and she’d rather us know that we could call her in heartbeat. It wasn’t her style to be completely clueless to what we were doing, and she’d told us on more than one occasion that what little trouble we got into would never amount to the stuff that she used to do with my mom.

  “Go on.” Sue gestured with a wave of her hand, growing impatient.

  “Well, Ezra invited his cousin and his cousin was a dirt bag who followed Tessa into the woods when she went to pee. And he attacked her but –”

  “He did what!” Sue very rarely raised her voice, only right now,
she was definitely yelling. She pushed off the door and came towards us, her eyes searching mine. “Why didn’t you call me?” she asked Elle accusingly.

  “Because nothing really happened. He just hurt her a little –”

  “He just hurt her a little,” Sue repeated darkly, glaring at Elle. “Eleanor Reese Thompson, I expect better from you.” She tipped my chin up, examining me.

  “He didn’t hurt me like that,” I rushed to say. “He was going to, but Braden’s brother got there in time and stopped it.”

  Sue’s eyes locked on mine. “Brock Miller was there?” I nodded, my throat dry and scratchy. “And he stopped anything from happening to you? What did he do to the guy?”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. He didn’t do anything, but you could tell he wanted to. He just made Ezra get him off the property before he called the police.”

  Sue was worrying her lip, probably thinking the same thing that I was thinking. If Bill Armstrong ever found out about this, I’d be grounded forever. He likely wouldn’t let me leave for college with Elle, and Sue knew how much I wanted to go to college. She knew how desperately I wanted independence. She’d been arguing with Dad herself for years about letting me have a little more freedom.

  “What did the guy do to you, Tessa?” Sue was at war with herself.

  “He just…tried to…” It was difficult to talk with the lump in my throat. I swallowed, trying to break it up. “He hit me when I struggled, and then he was on the ground. He just…scared me.”

  Admitting that Chris had scared me made me feel weak; it made me want to curl up in a ball and cry. It made me want to run to my mother for comfort. But I didn’t have a mother. She was dead.

  Sue sensed what I needed, and she wrapped her arms around me tightly, pulling me to her chest. Her hand came up to hold the back of my head. “Oh, honey, it’s alright. It’ll be okay. You’re okay,” she said soothingly.

  I let her hug me, fighting the urge to cry and break down. “I know, I’ll be fine. I’m okay,” I repeated, pulling away after several moments. “But if I don’t get home soon, I’m going to be late for the show.”