The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  Dizzy nodded, shifting in his seat and not meeting War’s eyes.

  “Listen.” I pulled in a calming breath through my nose, but it was time to get this out in the open. Meeting War’s furious gaze, I said, “It was only that one time in high school. But I’ve wanted there to be more between us, and you need to know I’ve asked Lace to choose.”

  I didn’t tell War that if she chose him, I would keep trying to win her over anyway. And that’s really what it all came down to. War and me, our friendship, having each other’s backs . . . that shit always came first for me, but not for him.

  The band was War’s idol. Everything and everyone else was a distant second. The Morris deal was proof of that.

  War didn’t see the conflict for me, because there wasn’t one for him. If he were in my place, I knew in my gut that if it were the band or her, he wouldn’t have a problem with walking away from her. In fact, he’d done it before with the RCA deal.

  My best friend’s jaw tightened. “You guys covering for Bullet too?” War’s furious gaze sliced through me before swinging to Sager and King.

  “Leave us out of it,” King fired back.

  “That’s his plan,” I bit out. “As long as we’re clearing the air, War, let’s get everything out in the open.” Speaking to all the guys, I said, “War’s taking an exclusive solo deal from Zenith. He’s breaking up the band.”

  “What the fuck, asshole?” Our very large, very angry friend King glared at War as he puffed out his chest, looking even bigger than usual.

  “You’re so full of shit.” I held War’s gaze and gave it to him, the destructive truth pouring out of me like pus from an infected wound. “Acting all self-righteous. Giving us that tired, worn-out old speech about the band and all of us being a priority. None of us are a priority to you, Warren. Not Lace, not me, not the guys. To you, we’re all replaceable.”

  Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It wasn’t the same feeling I’d had earlier with Lace watching me. This one was more like an icy chill, like cold fingertips running down my spine. I glanced over my shoulder as a couple of paramedics jogged toward the elevators, rolling a stretcher between them.

  I turned back to the scene unfolding with the guys.

  “You’re a sorry bastard.” Dizzy’s amber eyes were narrowed with accusation and focused on War.

  “You’re the one who’s replaceable,” King said, standing up and looming over War. “Pinche güero culero.” Fucking white asshole.

  The chill I’d just had morphed into a horrible premonition the moment I heard Dizzy’s cell phone ring. When he answered it, his look transformed from puzzlement to shock. Without a word, he broke for the bank of elevators at a flat-out run.

  My entire body flooded with ice water, and I bolted after him. I caught him at the elevator, jumping inside it with him just before the doors closed.

  His face pale, Dizzy hit me with a frightened look. “Those guys that just went by were for Lace. Beth Tate found her in her room.” His eyes teared up. “Bry, she said Lace isn’t breathing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Lace

  A low humming sound hovered around the edges of my consciousness while a diffuse bright light up ahead propelled me forward. As I followed it, the light coalesced into rays of sunlight streaming through the trees . . .

  • • •

  Two years ago

  “Lace,” a deep familiar voice called.

  I blinked, dragging my gaze away from the fresh-tilled dirt and craned my neck to look at him. His hands in the front pockets of his dark jeans, the wind blowing layers of his silky hair into his gray-green eyes, Bryan stepped forward.

  “War’s looking for you.”

  Disinterested, I shrugged, returning my attention to the grave in front of me. My hands balled into fists.

  How dare that bitch die on me.

  Without saying anything, Bryan dropped to the grass beside me. He didn’t ask if he could join me, and I wasn’t about to tell him he couldn’t. I needed him, more than anyone else. War didn’t know what to say to me because he didn’t really understand. He didn’t understand about a lot of things.

  My mother’s death had totally shaken me. Not because she’d overdosed, but because she was gone. My anger toward her had always fueled my fervor to succeed. Now that she wasn’t here, how was I going to prove her wrong, show her that I was worth something?

  Bryan and I sat silently together, the only noise the steady hum of the traffic from a nearby freeway. As I continued to stare blankly at my mother’s name on the marker, his warm hand covered mine. Nothing in my entire life felt more right than him beside me, holding my hand.

  Bryan’s soft voice broke the silence. “Did you ever go back to University House to see her?”

  “Once,” I said with a sigh.

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember.”

  “She didn’t. She didn’t even know who I was.”

  “I’m sorry, Lace.” He squeezed my hand.

  “Don’t be. I knew how she was. I was stupid to think she would ever change. You ever try to see your father?”

  “No. The last time I saw him was in middle school. Good riddance, if you ask me.”

  I nodded. Having a shitty parent was a bond, a common hurt and vulnerability we shared. “She can rot in hell for all I care.”

  “You’re not her, Lace Lowell,” he surprised me by saying.

  “No, I’m not. I’ll get out of here. I’m going to make something out of my life.”

  “I know you will.” Bryan’s voice resonated with sincerity. His faith in me never wavered. “You ever hear back from the counselor about your scholarship application?”

  I shook my head. “That’s a long shot. They have over two thousand applicants for that one spot.” I pulled my hand free, smoothing both palms over my jeans as he continued to closely watch me. “Anyway, it only covers books and tuition, not living expenses.”

  “Your uncle hasn’t changed his mind about you staying on after you graduate?”

  “No. He’s getting married, and his fiancée has kids of her own. They’re gonna have a full house as it is.”

  “You could stay with us.”

  My eyebrows lifted and I gave Bryan a measured look. “I don’t think your mother would allow that, do you?”

  “I guess not.”

  We both got quiet. Something way beyond friendship had been building between us lately that neither of us was quite ready to address.

  I pulled up my knees and dropped my chin on them, whispering, “I’m not going to cry for her.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  “I lost track of how many times she told me I was a burden to her. Mostly, she ignored me. But there were a few times, usually when she was really wasted, that she would let me crawl into her lap.” I pressed my lips together to keep them from trembling. “She would stroke my back and sing to me.”

  I risked a glance at him.

  Bryan returned my look, the light of empathy so compelling in those beautiful eyes of his. “It’s those few times like that with my old man that made me really hate him. It’s so unexpected, the kindness after the neglect, that it almost feels like a betrayal.”

  I looked away, nodding. That’s exactly how I’d felt with my mom. “Why didn’t she love me, Bry?”

  That was it, really, the part that bothered me the most about her passing. She might have been the world’s worst mother, but there was a part of me, a part that I despised, that still longed for her approval.

  Bryan’s arms went around me, and his chin rested on the top of my head. I leaned back into him, my throat so tight, it burned like fire.

  “If only we could choose our parents, huh?” He kissed the top of my head, and my knotted muscles loosened. “She was your mom, Lace,” he said softly. “But she was a wretched human being. She didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.”

  • • •

  Present day

  The inces
sant buzzing sound in my ears grew louder.

  Stop.

  I wanted it to stop. I wanted to stay back there in that memory. With him where everything made sense.

  Safe.

  Cherished.

  Comforted.

  In Bryan’s arms.

  The noise in my ears wouldn’t go away, though. It solidified into voices—strong, assertive male voices.

  “She’s breathing. She’s coming around,” one of them said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bryan

  Hunched over and sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the ICU waiting room, I slowly lifted my head from my hands as War returned with a cup of coffee.

  “Any news?” he asked, taking the chair opposite me.

  I shook my head, keeping up the uneasy truce we’d formed as we waited.

  I glanced at the door to the ICU for the umpteenth time. This had been our basic routine for the past twenty-four hours—monosyllabic communication punctuated by visits from King and Sager and periodic updates from Dizzy. As a family member, he was the only one actually allowed back there with Lace.

  My stomach was a massive, churning, burning ball, despite the most recent reassurance from Dizzy that she remained stable. Sure, she was for now, maybe . . . but what about the next time? Heroin sucked people into its vortex, and more often than not, spit them back out into a pine box.

  I should have done something, no matter whose girl she was. The moment I’d discovered that she was using, I should have dragged Lace off that bus and straight to the nearest rehab facility.

  Should’ve.

  Shouldn’t.

  Shit.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, but the terrifying memory of that chaotic scene at the hotel was something I couldn’t force out of my mind.

  Beautiful, vibrant Lace. Her body completely still, like a corpse . . .

  • • •

  One day ago

  “Shane, I can’t find a vein. She’s used ’em all up,” the older paramedic said in a clipped voice.

  “Go for the intraosseous, then,” the other paramedic said, continuing to breathe for her through a tube they’d put down her throat.

  I felt as helpless as I’d been as a thirteen-year-old boy when that drug dealer had hurt Lace. Like back then, I stood in the doorway.

  Beside me, Dizzy made desperate bargains with God as we both watched the paramedics work on her.

  There was a pop and a crackly sound as they punched a large needle into Lace’s shin bone. My muscles tensed and my hands fisted, I offered my own silent prayer.

  C’mon, Lace.

  Suddenly, her body jolted. Her eyes blinked open, and her chest rose as she took in a loud shuddering breath that sounded more like a gurgle.

  “Narcan’s working.” Shane turned Lace’s head to the side, and she spewed vomit all over the hotel carpet. “Glad we had the ET tube in already.”

  The EMTs wiped her face clean and reattached an oxygen bag. Together, the two men lifted her onto the stretcher and tightened the straps.

  Shane looked at his partner. “Let’s get her to the hospital.”

  The other EMT nodded and spoke into a radio hooked to his shoulder. “We have a code three. Heading to the truck. ETA twelve minutes.”

  “Stand back,” Shane barked when they reached the door.

  I blinked rapidly, my eyes burning as I stared down at Lace’s, which were totally unfocused. She was incoherent and thrashing violently but ineffectively against the restraints.

  “Tighten the straps, man,” Shane said. “Narcan’s making her agitated.”

  I stepped out of the way, and once they’d wheeled her past, Dizzy and I hurried after them. We had to take a different elevator and rejoined them in the lobby, where a ton of eyes tracked our progress. By then, it registered that War had joined us. He looked as freaked out as we were.

  Out on the circular driveway in front of the hotel, someone flashed a cell phone camera.

  Beth Tate appeared out of nowhere and stepped in front of us, holding up her hands. “No pictures, please. Show a little respect.”

  I stood with Dizzy and War as the paramedics loaded Lace into the back of the ambulance.

  Dizzy jumped in the moment Shane’s partner clipped the stretcher into place. “I’m her brother.”

  At the same time, War and I both reached for the handle to climb inside.

  “Sorry, guys.” Shane’s partner shook his head. “Only one’s allowed in the back. We’re taking her over to Celebration Health. You can meet us there.”

  Shane slammed the ambulance doors shut, and I felt like my heart had stopped as I watched the ambulance drive away . . .

  • • •

  Present day

  The automatic doors of the ICU whooshed open in front of War and me, and the memory cleared as Dizzy stepped through them.

  “The breathing tube is out.” Dizzy gave us both a strained smile. “The doctors say she’s gonna be okay. She’s awake. They’ve just moved her to a private room on the sixth floor.”

  I let out a pent-up sigh. Finally, I could see her. Talk to her. Touch her.

  “She’s asking for you,” Dizzy said.

  Yes. Thinking he meant me, I took a step forward.

  “But, War,” he said, and I froze. “I gotta warn you, she’s totally coherent. She knows all about the Morris deal, and she’s pissed.”

  Dizzy shot me an apologetic look before he moved off with War.

  Frustrated, I shoved my hands into my pockets, my fingers clenched around the pack of cigarettes that I couldn’t smoke in the hospital. But I wasn’t about to go outside, not until I saw Lace.

  I pressed my lips tightly together. Deal with it, Bry. You just have to wait a little longer.

  I stood alone in the empty ICU waiting area that was cold and quiet except for the television droning in the background. I eliminated any other options. I didn’t want to upset her, but we had to talk. I was past done with letting War run the show. His method of “taking care of her” had almost gotten her killed. No way was I going to let them pick right back up where they’d left off.

  That decided, I strode purposefully to the elevator bank, pushing the call button and raking my hand impatiently through my hair as I waited for the elevator. Fortunately, it was fast.

  When I reached the sixth floor, the nurses looked up and threw speculative glances my way. I was probably quite a sight as I clomped past the nursing station like Sabbath’s vengeful iron man in my heavy boots and leather pants. I found Dizzy waiting out in the hall outside her room.

  “Hold up, Bry. She’s still talking to War.”

  The door was open, and I peered over Dizzy’s shoulder. Looking extremely pale and fragile, Lace lay in the hospital bed with an IV pole beside her and her blond hair spread over her pillow like a puddle of melted gold.

  Totally focused on War, she didn’t see me. One of her hands was in his. My eyes narrowed to jealous slits as I watched War sift a strand of her hair through his fingers. Lace’s eyes drifted closed, and every single muscle in my body tensed.

  That was my cue. I should have left before it got worse.

  But I didn’t.

  Was there a scenario where I could make myself leave her?

  “No.” Lace’s voice was as raspy as a two-pack-a-day smoker. “But I will.” A tear slid down her cheek and rolled into her hair. “Dizzy said you know everything . . . about Bryan and me.”

  Whatever War said in response was too low for me to hear.

  “I’m sorry, War.” She nodded. “I’ve made a mess of it all. But I’m alive, and for some reason, God’s giving me a second chance. I’m going to take that chance, and I’m going to do better. I’m tired of the roller coaster I’ve been on. I’m tired of all the lies, especially the ones I’ve been telling myself. I really thought I could quit whenever I decided to. But I realize now that’s not true.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “I had a really long conversation with
the hospital social worker before I left the ICU. She asked if the overdose was a suicide attempt.”

  “Was it, Lacey?” War asked softly.

  “No, of course not.” She shook her head. “Though she helped me see that in a way, that’s what I’ve been doing all along with the drugs. The end result is still the same. I know that self-medication isn’t the answer. I’ve got to face my problems to overcome them.”

  “It’s all my fault,” War said, and his raspy voice deepened. “You being here. I should never have given you the drugs in the first place. I never imagined something like this would happen.”

  “Neither of us did.” She reached up a hand and touched War’s face.

  “I love you, Lacey.”

  “I love you too, War,” she said, and he leaned his face into her hand.

  Her declaration sliced through the stitches of hope that had been holding my heart together these past twenty-four hours.

  Rubbing my hand against my chest, I turned away. A dark shroud descended on my thoughts. I forced my feet to move down the hall as my heart turned to stone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Lace

  “A part of me will always love you,” I said, yet I slid my hand away from War’s face. Our gazes locked for one long last moment. “You’ve been a huge part of my life for so long, Warren Jinkins. But I don’t feel like I really know you. Not anymore.”

  My fingers twisted in the hospital sheet, and I forced myself to go on, though the regret that was so evident in his familiar features had me wavering. I stared down at the IV in my hand for a couple of monitor beeps before I continued. A clean break was best for all of us.

  “You’ve changed, Warren, and not for the better. You’re not the guy I fell in love with.” If I hadn’t been so desperate, so drugged out, I probably would have realized that sooner. “You promised you wouldn’t keep secrets from me.”