Rebel Song: (Rebel Series Book 3) ((Rebel Series))
Page 1
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Playlist
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
Acknowledgments
Also by J.C. Hannigan
About the Author
Rebel Song
Rebel Series, Book 3
J.C. Hannigan
Contents
Author’s Note
Playlist
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
Acknowledgments
Also by J.C. Hannigan
About the Author
Becky’s story has been an emotional one for me to write. If you’ve read any of the other books in the Rebel Series, you kind of have an idea about the traumatic past she has. This novel may contain triggering subject matter and situations. Please proceed with caution.
Music has always inspired and moved me. One of my favourite parts about starting a new story is creating a play list to listen to while writing. Here are the top tracks from my Rebel Song play list, and if you’d like to see the full Spotify list, click here.
Games – Luke Bryan
More Than Miles – Brantley Gilbert
Fly – Maddie & Tae
The Day You Stop Lookin’ Back – Thomas Rhett
Small Town Throwdown – Brantley Gilbert & Justin Moore
Like It’s The Last Time – Thomas Rhett
Playing With Fire – Thomas Rhett & Jordin Sparks
There’s A Girl – Trent Harmon
Hey Heartbreak – Jennifer Nettles
Bottoms Up – Brantley Gilbert
Hurricane – Luke Combs
Parachute – Chris Stapleton
This Town – Niall Horan
Miss You – James Hersey
Sleep Without You – Brett Young
Every Time I Hear That Song – Blake Shelton
Wanna Be That Song – Brett Eldredge
Whatever It Is – Zac Brown Band
Song for Another Day – Old Dominion
A Guy With A Girl – Blake Shelton
Go Ahead And Break My Heart – Blake Shelton & Gwen Stefani
Home Alone Tonight – Luke Bryan & Karen Fairchild
In Case You Didn’t Know – Brett Young
Becky
July 2013
I closed my eyes, drawing in huge gulps of air in rapid succession. My lungs felt like they were on fire, and my heart—it felt as if it was actually shattering. Fragments of pain pierced everywhere. I’d never experienced agony quite like it.
That was saying a lot. In my twenty-two years, I’d faced plenty of pain, both physical and emotional. My father had been an abusive drunk, my ex-boyfriend and the father of my child had nearly snuffed our lives out, and my brother had been locked in jail for my stupid mistake.
Yes, I’d felt a lot of pain. But losing Mom…it was a different kind of pain.
It was permanent. It was a void that I didn’t think would ever be filled.
“Oh God, Mom,” I sobbed into my hands, staring at the now-stripped bed where she had spent the better part of three months confined to. Her frail body was gone, the slight impression on the mattress the only remaining sign of her.
We weren’t the perfect family, but we were a family. We were finally doing right by each other. I felt like I didn’t get enough time with her, with my brothers. So much of our lives together was wasted, and it broke my heart that my son wasn’t going to see his Grammy anymore.
My shoulders shook as I leaned forward and cried. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to hold myself together because I felt as if I were unravelling.
The sound of a car door slamming had me freeze for a moment. I straightened, blinking back my tears. A moment later, another car door slammed and I heard voices.
I wiped at my face, trying to dry my eyes and cheeks. Of course, I would have picked the exact moment that Tessa Armstrong returned with my son to have my emotional break down. I had the worst timing for these things.
Tessa had picked Aiden up this morning so I could help my older brother, Brock, with the funeral arrangements. Afterwards, I’d gone to the florist to order the flowers, called the caterer and planned the reception. I’d even had time to come into Mom’s bedroom to start stripping the bed.
And then I’d buckled.
It hit me. She was really, truly gone. She’d never sit at another Timbit soccer practice, or read another bedtime story to Aiden. She wouldn’t be sitting in the audience when I finally graduated from nursing school after years of helping me balance parenting with school and work.
I had cried plenty of times since Mom’s bleak diagnosis, but not like this. Not that god-awful, gut-wrenching wail of the mourning.
The front door opened and closed, and at the sound of feet thudding against the floor, I bolted out into the hallway, closing the door to Mom’s room behind me. I didn’t want Aiden to see Grammy’s empty bed and be reminded. “Hi buddy!” I said, pasting on a smile that I hoped conveyed happiness to my three-year-old.
The smile on Aiden’s face was genuine, and his eyes shone with excitement. “I rode a horse, Mommy!”
“Really?” I looked up to where my older brother’s girlfriend stood at the end of the hall, an anxious look on her face.
“I hope that’s alright,” she said, her brows creasing. “I had him wear the proper gear—helmets and pads and what not. I held the reins the whole time,” she added anxiously.
“It’s okay,” I paused, drawing in air slowly. The pain in my chest was still there, as well as the desire to cry, but I had a bath to draw and a child to get to bed. There was a routine, and routines couldn’t be broken.
I clung to the routine; thankful for it. The distraction and happiness my son provided helped me get through each minute. When he wasn’t around, it was harder for me not to fall apart. I needed to do things, I needed to feel useful.
“Let’s get the bath started and then you can tell me all about riding the horse, okay buddy?” I smiled. Aiden nodded and raced down the hallway to the bathroom. “Thanks again, Tessa,” I told her, grateful.
Tessa was a saving grace. She had come to me at the recommendation of my friend, Katie Armstrong. Katie was married to Tessa’s older brother, and had happened to toss my name out there when she found out Tessa was looking for a summer job and I was looking for a dependable babysitter.
She hadn’t been working for me for very long, but she’d swooped in and helped with Aiden every moment she could. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since my mother had passed, and yet she’d been with us practically the whole time.
It hadn’t bothered me that my older brother, Brock
, was seeing her. In fact, I’d secretly been thrilled. Brock had come back for the first time in years because our mother was dying, but I was terrified he’d leave again once the funeral was over.
I couldn’t do this alone, and if there was a possibility that Brock would end up sticking around a little longer because of this girl, I was all for it. I didn’t want to lose him too, and I had no idea how I was supposed to handle Braden if he left. I didn’t even know where my younger brother was. He’d taken off shortly after the ambulance had left with Mom’s body. He wasn’t answering calls or texts.
As if I didn’t have enough on my plate. Funeral arrangements, trying to cope with my own suffocating grief, not to mention my son’s grief…and now I had to worry about my younger brother.
“It’s no problem,” Tessa assured me, drawing my attention back to our conversation. “If you need anything else, let me know. If you want, I can come over tomorrow morning and help with Aiden.”
“It’s alright,” I smiled, exhausted with the collected act but unable to quit it. “I can manage tomorrow. I think my family and I will want to be alone. No offence,” I added, wincing when I realized how that sounded. Tessa had only recently started dating Brock, and I hadn’t meant to exclude her, but I still didn’t know her all that well. This felt private.
“None taken.” Tessa gave me a small smile to show me that she understood, her eyes lined with understanding. Family was important to her too. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”
I nodded, watching her go. I stood in the hallway for a moment before turning and walking down the hall to Aiden’s room. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in his underwear, playing with his plastic dinosaurs.
“Alright, how about that bath?”
Aiden jumped up, racing away, his laughter echoing down the hallway. My heart swelled with love for him, for this precious boy that came out of a dark circumstance and made my world brighter.
I awoke with a start on the living room sofa. I’d fallen asleep while watching some cheesy movie on the Lifetime channel while the tears had silently slipped down my cheeks, coating them.
Bedtime had been a challenge. Before she got really sick, Mom had been the one to read Aiden his bedtime stories every night. Braden skipped parts of the story, just to get it over with because he hated reading, and I was always in a hurry. I had a heavy course load in my nursing program, and there was always an assignment to do or an exam to study for.
But Mom…she’d taken her time. Naturally, Aiden preferred her, and when it was time for bed, he’d quickly get ready before grabbing a book from his shelf and scurrying down the hallway, toward his Grammy’s room.
My heart broke at the sight of him the moment he remembered. His blue eyes filled with tears, and he dropped the arm that had gripped the book tightly to his chest with excitement just moments before.
“Mommy,” his jaw quivered, and I went to him, picking him up and cradling him to my chest.
When I finally calmed him down enough and started to read, I took my time and made all the characters have different voices. I did it as a way to remember her by, as a way to honour her and maybe ease the ache in Aiden’s heart—and my own—a little.
But after that…I’d needed a good cry fest. Anxiety twisted in the pit of my belly as I waited for Brock to call me and tell me that he’d found our younger brother, who was still missing. I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax until I heard Braden was okay.
Until that happened, all I could do was stared blindly at the television, not really seeing the movie I’d put on, my heart aching with each pulse.
At almost two in the morning, the front door flew open with a thud, smacking against the bench in the front hall. I pressed a hand to my racing heart as two men stumbled inside. One was leaning heavily against the other, wobbling on his feet.
The light from the glow of the television made it possible for me to see the outlines of the two stumbling men. My brothers, Brock and Braden.
“Oh my God, what happened?” I half whispered, half shouted as I raced over to them. The smell of liquor greeted my nostrils, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “He’s drunk.”
Brock said nothing as he dragged our brother to the sofa and dropped him down on it. He picked up Braden’s legs and placed them on the couch, grabbing a blanket off the back and throwing it over him. Braden was snoring before his head even hit the cushion.
Brock looked down at our brother for several moments, a solemn set to his jaw, and sighed. “He’ll be okay. He’ll have one hell of a hangover, but he’ll be at the wake. I’ll make sure of it. If he doesn’t go, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.”
“Where was he? O’Riley’s?” I hedged, worry pressing down on me. It wasn’t uncommon for Braden to drink, but he was usually social about it. He drank to have a good time, not to forget. This was Braden drinking to forget, to numb the pain of Mom dying. This was bad, and my stomach felt heavy with dread.
Alcohol had ravaged our family once before, and I didn’t think I could survive watching my younger brother walk down the path our father had.
“Mommy?” Aiden’s tiny voice came from down the hallway, and I quickly went to him.
“I’m here,” I told him, scooping him up in my arms. I pressed a kiss to the soft skin on his forehead.
“Will you lay with me?” he asked, resting his head against my shoulder as I carried him.
“Of course,” I whispered, holding him a little closer the rest of the way.
I got us settled in his bed and he curled up beside me, facing me. His blue eyes bore into mine.
“I miss Grammy,” he whispered, curling up in my arms. “I don’t want her to be gone.” His little voice broke, and it shattered my heart. I hated seeing my baby boy hurting.
“I know, sweetie,” I told him, drawing him closer to me. I brought my hand up to brush his thick, dark hair out of his eyes. “Grammy didn’t want to go either, but she’ll always be in your heart. She’ll always be your guardian angel.”
“That’s not the same as her being here,” Aiden remarked sadly.
I said nothing—I had no response, he was right. It wasn’t the same, and I was struggling with that too.
I rubbed his back in a small, circular motion, and it wasn’t long until his breathing tapered off and he drifted back to sleep, his soft snores filling the darkened room.
Worry churned in my gut, a sorrow so deep I felt it in my bones. In a matter of months, my entire world had imploded in on itself—again.
Only this time, Mom was gone. She wouldn’t be there to help me rise from the ashes. I had to do it on my own, and I had to find the strength to help my son and my younger brother.
Closing my eyes at the onslaught of fresh tears, I prayed with all of my heart that my family would survive this.
I was numb.
I knew it was only temporary, the numbness, but I welcomed it never-the-less. It was a quick, bittersweet respite before I endured more agony.
In less than fourteen hours, we would be laying our mother to rest. I’d cried on and off all day, pasted a smile on and powered through the wake. Hands grasping mine, apologizes and condolences passing lips, my responses automatic, each face a blur.
I wasn’t sold on the idea of going out for drinks with Brock and Braden’s friends after the wake, especially not with Braden’s erratic behaviour lately, but Brock wanted me to get out of the house for a bit. We both knew Braden would go anyway, and Brock wanted to keep an eye on him.
Tessa had offered to stay with Aiden, along with Braden’s girlfriend and Tessa’s best friend, Elle. She was at a loss for how to help him too.
I couldn’t remember the last time I let loose, and I had a feeling it wasn’t going to happen on that particular night. After all, I was feeling raw, but I needed the change of scenery. Being at home right now hurt, it hurt because my mother was gone and I missed her more than anything. It hurt because I was fumbling through my own grief and blindly t
rying to hold everybody together.
“This is a bad idea,” I muttered the moment I walked into O’Riley’s with my brothers. I sent a wary glance to Braden as he immediately crossed over to the bar to order a drink. All day long he’d been sullen and angry, stealing sips of whiskey from a flask he’d kept in his pocket. My worry ran deep, unrelenting.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Brock promised.
“I’m worried about you too,” I told him, frowning. I was worried about us all. I was worried about what would happen once this funeral was over. Would Brock go back to Alberta? Would he distance himself from us again? I couldn’t stand the idea of losing another family member in any sense.
“Don’t,” he ordered with a frown before two of his friends, Gordon Armstrong and Travis Channing, approached us to say hello.
Gordon and Travis had always been around when I was growing up, along with Grady McDonnell and Steve Winters, both of whom were hanging out by the bar with a couple of other people I recognized from around town.
After the arrest, Brock stopped talking to everyone in town, except for Mom, Braden and me. Even for us, it was irregular to hear from him. He’d hung out with them a few times since his return, but his budding romance with Tessa had caused tension between him and Gordon. Mom’s death seemed to have bridged that gap, and all seemed forgiven between them.
“Glad you could make it out,” Gordon said to us. He was another one of Tessa’s many brothers. Getting together for drinks had been his idea, his way of trying to infuse a little cheer into our dire situation.
“What’s your poison?” Travis added, his hazel eyes drinking me in as he smiled. I felt my heart stutter in my chest, tripping over itself in his presence.