Rebel Heart: (Rebel Series Book 2) ((Rebel Series))

by J. C. Hannigan

  I took her to the fanciest restaurant in town—the same one we'd gone to when Brock and Tessa told us all they were engaged, The Dock. The waitress led us to a table for two in the corner. The lightening was soft and romantic, the gentle glow enhancing the beauty of Elle's skin.

  She didn't wait for me to pull her chair out, she did it herself with a defiant look on her face. She was still fighting this—fighting us. I couldn't help but smile in response as I pulled out my own chair.

  The waitress asked us for our drink orders. Elle ordered a glass of wine and I asked for a coke. Elle's brows furrowed as she assessed me. “What's up with that?” she asked pointedly, gesturing to the waitress as she walked away.

  “With what?” I tried to play stupid. I didn't exactly want to dive into how messed up I'd been after my mom's death. I knew it was something she'd need to hear eventually, but I had hoped I could enjoy her company a little longer.

  “For as long as I've known you, you've never passed up on the opportunity to have a beer. I've seen you do that twice now,” she said, delicately arching her brow to drive her point home.

  I sighed heavily and leaned back against my chair, running a hand through my hair. “I'm an alcoholic, Elle.”

  She blinked at me for several beats. “No, you're not.”

  “Yes, I am,” I inhaled deeply, my eyes dropping down to the table for a beat before I forced myself to look at her. “I fell apart after my mom died. After I... screwed things up with you. I started drinking more, a hell of a lot more than I had before. Harder drinks too...anything to kill the guilt and the regret.”

  Elle opened her mouth, searching for something to say. She looked genuinely shocked by my revelation. “I... I'm sorry Braden,” she finally said. I knew she meant it; I knew that she was blaming herself, even though it wasn’t her fault.

  “It's not your fault,” I told her, needing her to believe me. “It was only a matter of time. Addiction runs in my family. Brock and Becky got sick of it and told me to either sober up or get out. They told me I was walking down the same path our father had.”

  Elle winced as if my words had physically slapped her. She knew how much I hated my father, how much I resented everything about him and how painful it must have been to be compared to him. Her hands reached across the table to grasp mine. She squeezed gently. “You're not him,” she told me, as she'd told me so many times before. Her brown eyes were locked on mine—searching—and I knew without a doubt that she believed it.

  She was the only person to ever see me. Everyone else saw a rebel, a trouble maker. The wayward son of the old town drunk; the product of a broken family. Elle saw more. She still did, even after everything I’d put her through.

  I swallowed hard and forced a smile, squeezing her hands back. “I know. But it was the kick in the ass I needed to smarten up. I went to rehab, enrolled in college, and left town.”

  “I heard that,” Elle cleared her throat, pulling her hands away as if my touch burned her. “Mechanical engineering, right?”

  “Right,” I responded, my lips lifting up in a grin. She'd done her homework. “I heard you're a paramedic now,” I added.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, looking away abruptly. Something dark clouded her eyes, something she wasn’t going to be forthcoming about. I got a sense that this subject was off limits to her.

  The waitress approached with our drinks. “Are you guys ready to order yet?” she asked, setting our glasses down on the table.

  “Not yet,” I drawled, flashing the waitress a smile that made her blush. “Why don't you give us another five minutes to look over the menu, darling?” She nodded and turned around, heading to tend to her other tables. When I looked back at Elle, she was frowning. “What?” I asked.

  “You're seriously hitting on the waitress?” she snorted, shaking her head. I could detect a note of jealousy in her voice.

  “You said this wasn't a date,” I reminded her. “Besides, I was just being nice. I wasn't hitting on her. I don't bother with pleasantries when I want something Elle, I go for it.”

  She swallowed, likely remembering that fact about me all too well. She suddenly took a keen interest to the menu in front of her.

  I didn't bother glancing at mine. I'd been there enough times to know the menu like the back of my hand. Instead, I took the time to watch the girl that still had a hold on my heart.

  I could feel the familiar tug between us; it had never faded during our time apart. I didn't even have to touch her to know that connection was as strong as it had always been. Her soul called to mine; and I still felt at home in her presence.

  “What are you staring at?” Elle asked without looking up, her lips pulled into a slight smile that she was trying to suppress.

  I could have told her I was looking at my future—and I almost did, but it was too soon. Elle wasn't willing to admit that she still felt even a fraction of what she once felt for me. I knew my stubborn girl almost as well as I knew myself—it was inevitable. Instead, I tossed her an innocent smile and shrugged, the words I wanted to say caught in my throat.

  “Are you ready to order yet?” our waitress asked, saving me from having to reply as she reappeared at our table, her pen posed over the notebook she held.

  “The lemon and herb roasted chicken sounds good. I'll have that please,” Elle said, closing the menu and setting it down in front of her. She looked up at me, waiting.

  “I'll have the Greek style pepper steak,” I added, my eyes never leaving her face.

  “Sounds great,” the waitress offered. She turned around, sauntering over to the kitchen.

  “Tell me something,” I leaned forward, my eyes locking on hers before she had a chance to look away.

  “What?” Elle's brow furrowed, as if she didn't trust where this conversation would end up going.

  “Anything. Tell me what you've been up to the last few years. Tell me about your job. Tell me if...tell me if you're happy,” I asked, swallowing hard.

  Elle exhaled and brushed a strand of her long hair behind her ear. She looked away from me, nodding her head slowly. “Well...I haven’t been up to much, to be honest. I went to school, then I got a job. I’ve just been working, really.” She stopped talking, lost in thought.

  “Do you like your job?” I pressed, needing her to keep talking. I needed to know what was going on behind those brown eyes. I need to know the words her heart was whispering, even if her mind was counteracting it all. I knew it would—I knew that she'd talk herself out of trusting my company. I couldn't blame her either...but I still had to try.

  She looked at me again, her eyes still guarded. “Most of the time. It's fulfilling but...there are times when it's really hard too.”

  I nodded, accepting this answer. “Yeah, Becky's a nurse now and I know it gets hard for her.”

  “Becky's a nurse now?” Elle's face lit up. “That's great! I always knew she'd make a wonderful nurse.”

  “She does,” I agreed, sitting back in my chair. “Are you going to finish answering my question?”

  The happy expression fell away from her face, and she went back to being guarded. “Are you happy, Braden?”

  “In this moment? Yes. I'm the happiest I've ever been.”

  “You have a lot to be happy for,” Elle said in agreement, forcing herself to hold my gaze. “You're sober and you've got the degree you never believed you'd get.”

  Elle brought a rush of memories with each spoken word. Nights of us sitting on her front porch swing, wrapped in a blanket and talking about the future—nights of Elle talking about college and me evading the discussion.

  I always knew Elle would go on to do incredible things—but I didn't have the same hope for myself. I thought I'd be stuck at Chuck's garage forever. I didn't believe that college was in my cards. I didn't have the money and I certainly didn't have the motivation. I already had a job that I didn't hate, I was content. I was afraid of failing.

  But things change in an instant. I lost who I was, what I
thought I wanted, and I was left staring at the pile of debris that was my life trying to make sense of it all. I failed, and I had to do something to make it right. I thought going to university would give me a sense of direction that I'd been lacking my whole life, but I ended up right back where I started.

  “Not exactly, I'm still kicking around at the garage,” I pointed out, smirking a little to cover up my unease.

  “Why? Why don't you get a job in your field?” she questioned, her eyes searching mine for the answer.

  “That's the plan—or it was. But Chuck had a heart attack a few months ago. He needs me. I've already bailed on him once...” I trailed off, frowning. I wasn't going to leave him hanging again.

  I was tired of being the guy that bailed.

  Elle's expression softened. She knew how much I respected the old man. “It's good that you're back, Braden.” She said, her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was jammed pack with meaning and sincerity.

  “Now back to my question,” I said, leaning forward again. “Are you happy, Elle?”

  “Most of the time,” she retorted defensively. “When I'm not forced to do things I don't want to do.”

  “You didn't want to have dinner with me?” I arched a brow, not buying her sass for a second. While her words were meant to cut, her eyes told a very different story.

  “There's no sense in revisiting old wounds,” she answered, swallowing hard.

  “Frankly, I’m a bit surprised by your outlook. As someone who works in the medical field, you should know it’s dangerous not to revisit old wounds. How else can you keep them clean and heal them completely? If you ignore it, you’ll just let that wound fester until you’ve gotta chop your whole damn leg off.”

  Elle blinked at me for several beats, then her lips perked up in the tiniest hint of a smile. “I honestly can’t figure out what your end goal is.”

  “Maybe there is no end goal,” I replied. I scratched the back of my neck, trying to knit the words on the tip of my tongue together in neat little patterns. “Maybe I’m just tired of that old wound festering. Maybe I want to clean it out, help it heal for good.” She said nothing, absorbing my words with her eyes fixed on the wall behind me. “I’m not asking you to dump your boyfriend and come back to me, Elle. I just want to be friends again. I just want to make up for what I did.”

  “The thing is Braden, I don’t know if you can make up for what you did. I don’t know if I can forgive you, or if I want to for that matter. And I’ll be honest, I’m really not sure how I can be friends with you again,” her voice shook a little with emotion, but her eyes were cold and guarded, the finality in her tone slicing my heart.

  We ate our dinner in a sad silence that suffocated me. Elle refused to meet my eyes for the rest of the evening. Any time I tried to pull a question from her, she'd respond with one or two worded replies.

  But I knew Elle—I expected this. I expected her to fight me, to fight what was between us tooth and nail. I knew how she operated, and she’d never forgive herself if she opened up her arms to me without making me work my ass off first. I just had to show her I was willing to jump through any hoop she put before me. I would do whatever it took, whatever she needed me to do, to prove myself.

  Elle

  Dinner with Braden was a mistake. I should have never put myself in a position to hear him out, and I didn't feel any better for having done it. Instead, I felt guilty and confused. I hadn’t even known he’d gone to rehab, I had refused to let Tessa talk about him around me. It pained me to hear he had self-destructed to that point. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t let him push me out.

  In my heart of hearts, I wanted to give him another chance. I wanted to help him burn away the regret, and soothe both of our aching hearts. I wanted to surrender again, and that was stupid. That was dangerous.

  Stupid heart.

  Braden was just getting his life together again, and he had shattered me before. I wouldn't—couldn’t—give him the opportunity to do it again. I would always care deeply for him, but once you broke a Thompson's trust, it was gone forever.

  I couldn’t help but analyze his every word. He wanted to heal just as badly as I wanted to heal; I could hear it in his voice, but even though he’d said himself that he just wanted to be friends, I didn’t think I could give him that. I couldn’t even give my boyfriend what he wanted. I couldn’t tell him how I was feeling or what I was thinking, either.

  Where was the girl who wore her emotions on her sleeve? Where was the girl who could express exactly how she felt and what she was thinking without batting a lash? Why did that part of me have to die when Braden broke my heart, along with what we had?

  The guilt I felt over my stupid feelings was consuming me, and I didn't want to face them. Thankfully, there was enough going on to keep me distracted. I was spending a lot of time hanging out with Tessa, helping solidify her plans for the wedding. When I wasn’t doing that, I was preparing for the bachelorette party next weekend.

  “Elle, you’ve got a visitor!” Mom’s voice called from downstairs. Curious, I came out of my bedroom and paused at the top of the stairs. Alex was standing in the front foyer with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a smile on his lips.

  “Hey…what are you doing here?” I tucked my hair behind my ear and started down the stairs.

  “Well, I heard the Parry Sound Stampede was happening, and I didn’t have to work…figured I could accompany you and see what all the hype’s about,” he answered. I came to a stop in front of him and let him wrap his arms around me. I hugged him back, breathing in his freshly showered scent.

  “Oh, that’s awesome,” I said hesitantly, pulling away. He held out the bouquet for me and I took it, inhaling the smell of the pretty roses and lilacs. “I wasn’t really planning on going though.” It was true; my intention was to avoid the fairgrounds and all that came with it. I knew the entire gang—including Braden—would be there all weekend. They always were. There wasn’t much to do in this town, and the Parry Sound Stampede was the biggest event of the year.

  “What do you mean you weren’t thinking about going?” Mom asked me, frowning. “Tessa’s competing tomorrow, and I could use the extra hands Sunday morning.”

  “What’s happening Sunday morning?” Alex asked, looking from my mom to me.

  “The chili cook-off,” Mom answered when I didn’t. “I participate every year. Usually Elle helps me, but I’ve lost her hands in recent years.”

  “I have to head out in the afternoon but we’d be happy to help in the morning,” Alex told her, his hands rubbing my shoulders. “Wouldn’t we?” He arched a brow at me, encouraging me to speak.

  I painted a smile on and nodded. “Sure, of course. It’ll be…fun,” I swallowed. I felt weird about it—helping Mom with the chili cook-off used to be my thing with Braden. Having Alex there would just feel…wrong.

  “I was just about to head out to the tractor pull,” Mom added, arching a brow at us. “Are you two going to come?”

  I didn’t really want to go to the fairgrounds, but I also knew that staying in with Alex was a bad idea. I hadn’t counted on him showing up this weekend, and I was still trying to process my feelings. “Alright, just let me find a vase.” I said, looking at Alex.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’d found a parking spot and the three of us were making our way to the stadium. Dusk had fallen but the fairgrounds were brightly lit, illuminating the crowd that had gathered to watch the tractor pull. Mom stopped to talk to almost every single person we came across.

  “Your mom’s pretty popular,” Alex remarked, his lips inches away from my ear.

  “Yeah, she’s lived here her entire life. She knows everyone and everyone loves her,” I shrugged. She was nice to everybody, and was the first person to show up and help someone out when they needed it. The town adored her for it—and her award winning chili helped keep her in their good favour, too.

  Alex took my hand while I glanced a
round the stands, looking for free seats. “Elle! Elle! Over here!” my eyes followed the sound of my name being shouted, and I saw Tessa jumping up and down in the middle upper section of the stands. She was sitting beside Brock, Becky, and Aiden. Thankfully, I saw no sign of Braden.

  I led the way up the steps to where my best friend and her future family were sitting. Becky and Brock smiled at us in greeting, and Aiden stared at Alex with distaste. I almost chuckled—he looked so much like his uncle when he made that face. My laughter died in my throat at the mere thought of Braden; and the accompanying pesky, throbbing ache in my heart.

  “Alex, this is Tessa’s fiancé Brock, his sister Becky and her son Aiden. Everyone, this is Alex,” I said, making the introductions as quickly as I could. I sat down beside Tessa and Alex sat beside me.

  “I didn’t know you were coming to town this weekend,” Tessa said, leaning forward so she could address Alex.

  “I wanted to surprise Elle,” he answered, putting his arm around me. I smiled tightly and tried to relax.

  “Elle prefers to do the surprising.” My heart thudded loudly in my chest as we all turned to see Braden standing a few feet away, his hands full of popcorn and drinks. He was staring at Alex’s arm around me, his expression unreadable. Alex tensed beside me.

  “Uncle Braden!” Aiden exclaimed, grinning. “Did you get the cotton candy lemonade?”

  Braden’s eyes broke away from us and landed on his nephew. He grinned, a smile that sent me back four years and made me melt all over again. “Of course I did!” He made his way past us without a second glance, and everyone scooted over to make room for him beside Aiden. “I also got you a candy apple—but save it for later,” I heard him add when Becky went to scold him.

  I inhaled, breathing in the evening air. I gave Alex a small apologetic smile before leaning into him. He relaxed, his hold on me tightening slightly as he drew me closer.