by Jewel, Bella
THIS FOR THAT
BELLA JEWEL 2019
Table of Contents
Title Page
DEDICATION
~*THIS FOR THAT*~
THIS FOR THAT | Copyright © 2019 Bella Jewel
~*ACKNOWLEDGMENTS*~
PROLOGUE
1 | EARLIER
2 | NOW
3 | THEN – CALLIE
4 | NOW – CALLIE
5 | THEN – CALLIE
6 | NOW – CALLIE
7 | THEN – CALLIE
8 | NOW – CALLIE
9 | THEN – CALLIE
10 | NOW – CALLIE
11 | THEN – CALLIE
12 | NOW – CALLIE
13 | THEN – CALLIE
14 | NOW – CALLIE
15 | THEN – CALLIE
16 | NOW – CALLIE
17 | THEN – CALLIE
18 | NOW – CALLIE
19 | THEN – CALLIE
20 | NOW – CALLIE
21 | NOW – CALLIE
22 | NOW – CALLIE
23 | NOW – CALLIE
24 | NOW – CALLIE
25 | NOW – CALLIE
26 | NOW – CALLIE
27 | NOW – CALLIE
DEDICATION
To Lance
For believing in me and kicking my ass to keep writing even when I didn’t want to.
For this awesome title. I suppose it’s pretty good ☺
For always making me laugh, even if I occasionally snort.
For loving me harder than I’ve ever been loved.
For being the best damn thing to ever happen to me.
This is for you.
It’s always for you.
~*THIS FOR THAT*~
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
THIS FOR THAT
Copyright © 2019 Bella Jewel
THIS FOR THAT is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
~*ACKNOWLEDGMENTS*~
As always, my heartfelt thanks to every single blogger, reader and author that has supported my journey. From reading my books, to sharing them, to raving about them, to being there for me. Thank you. My career would be nothing without any of you.
A huge thanks to the gorgeous ladies from Give Me Books for organizing my reveals and blitzes. You all do such an amazing job. No matter how many times I use you, I am always blown away by how efficient you are. Nothing is ever a drama. Thank you for giving me so much support.
A massive thanks to Ben Ellis from Tall Story Designs for this gorgeous cover. You’re the easiest, most efficient person I’ve ever worked with. You make my covers absolutely gorgeous every single time. I couldn’t do it without you.
To the lovely Lauren McKellar from Creating Ink for editing this book. I’m incredibly humbled by your lovely comments and how easy it is to work with you. You’re an absolute dream, and so super talented. Thank you so much.
To Rose from ReadbyRose who proofread this book, and really helped me out in such a quick and timely manner. You’re absolutely incredible and super to work with, thank you so much for your support.
And of course, to my admin, MJ, for ALWAYS keeping my page running beautifully. I couldn’t do it without you, girly. I love your teasers and your passion; thank you for taking the time out of your life to help this poor girl keep everything running.
And, last but certainly not least, to my loyal readers. To each and every one of you that picks up my books and give me a chance. To the reviews you write, good or bad. To the time you take to make me a better person. You make this real for me; never stop giving such love and passion. You make our journey so amazing.
PROLOGUE
What’s that saying again? You know the one . . .
Everything happens for a reason.
Like life has a plan for everyone. A plan that plays out. Even if you try to change it, one way or another you’ll end up back on course. No changes. No choices. You just let life lead and hope for the best.
People live by that statement. You’re supposed to learn lessons, become a better person, whatever it may be. Ultimately, it’s supposed to teach you something; that’s the rule, anyway. You’re supposed to come away from it stronger, more powerful. Even if the lesson is cruel, you’ll grow from it, learn from it, become a better person. If you’re lucky enough to get a good lesson, you’ll feel lighter, free.
It’s all supposed to make sense to you, eventually, regardless of the lesson.
But what if it doesn’t?
What if life is just out to royally fuck you?
Does anyone consider that?
If everything happens for a reason, and everything is meant to lead you down the right path, then how, for the love of God, do you explain when things go bad? When things are so ugly, there is no possible way back from them? What if the path you’re on, is basically just paving the road to hell? It’s setting up a nice little track for you to follow into the fiery depths.
I’m not talking minor things here; I’m talking the worst of the worst. The things that make you want to die. The things that will forever destroy every little piece of who you were, and recreate you into someone new, someone so broken nobody can put you back together again.
Are you honestly telling me that’s how it’s supposed to go?
That’s the reason? The purpose?
If it isn’t, then what the hell is the purpose? Why do bad things happen? What if there is no lesson to be taught? What if the bad things that happen simply break you until you spiral out of control and eventually, crash and burn?
I call bullshit to that statement.
As if life has this wonderful path for you that all your lessons are going to lead you down, until you find the goddamned rainbow at the end.
There is no rainbow at the end.
The lessons are meaningless.
You’re not going to come out a better person.
You’re not going to suddenly wake up and have all the bad shit make sense.
No, that isn’t going to happen.
You want to know why?
Because life is a goddamned sadistic bitch with a dry, bitter sense of humor.
Life likes fucking you.
So get used to it.
1
EARLIER
I throw my head back, my long hair trailing down my neck as laughter flows out of my open mouth. My body is light, my spirit free. After all, who doesn’t feel like the world is their oyster when on a joyride with a car they stole from their mother? I feel pretty damned good right about now.
Some might say, invincible.
I don’t have my license, but I know how to drive. Dad taught me when I was just a girl, and honestly, how hard is it? You put it in drive, and you steer. It’s not rocket science.
“I can’t believe we stole your mother’s car while she’s away, Callie!” My best friend Joanne laughs, throwing her hands out the window, catching the breeze. “How did you ev
en find the spare keys?”
I snort, one hand on the steering wheel, feeling a whole lot like nothing in the world can touch me right now. “It wasn’t hard. She leaves them in her safe, but I know the code. It’s my birthday.”
“Does she know you know the code?” Joanne asks.
“Nope, but honestly, she could have picked something less obvious!”
“We’re so dead for this,” Jessika says from the back seat, giggling as she and Sophie sip from the cans of vodka and orange soda we stole from the fridge.
She went away for the weekend. My older brother, Max, is supposed to be watching me, but he went out with some friends after I promised I’d stay in. I wasn’t going to, of course, but I don’t think he truly cares. He’s eighteen; he wants to live his life. He doesn’t want to be stuck with his little sister.
At sixteen, I’m more than ready to be living my life, too.
“We’re only going to ride to the lake, and then take it home. It’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m drinking.” I laugh reaching over and turning up the music.
“But we are!” Jessika squeals, laughing and waving her can of soda and vodka around.
At least I’m not stupid enough to drink and drive. I do have some sense, after all. I don’t want to die. Hell, no. I want to make it back to my bed later. This is just a little fun.
“Oh my God,” Jessika suddenly says, “Shit.”
“What?” I ask, glancing quickly behind me.
Jessika is fumbling around on the seat, her head dipped, her hair falling over her face as she frantically searches for something. “I dropped my drink.”
“What?” I cry out, panicking. This car, it’s expensive. It won’t come out of the seats easily. Especially when it’s mixed with orange soda. My mother is going to kill me. Oh shit, she wasn’t ever supposed to know I took this car out. How am I going to get a stain like that out? Oh shit.
“Was it open?” I ask, keeping one hand on the wheel and glancing back again.
Here’s hoping it wasn’t. Please say it wasn’t.
“Yes, shit, I’m sorry! We hit that little bump and I dropped it. It rolled somewhere. I can’t find it.”
It. Rolled. Somewhere.
Which means that soda is currently unleashing hell all over my mother’s very expensive, very white, car floor.
I’m dead.
Totally dead.
“Let me look, too,” Joanne says, leaning down in the front seat and patting around on the ground, in case it rolled forward.
“I can’t feel anything!” Sophie says, leaning down, too.
Jessika is still fumbling around.
Imagines of brightly colored soda and alcohol staining my mother’s carpet has me regretting this decision almost immediately. I turn, reaching one hand down while keeping my eye on the road. I pat around on the ground. My hand brushes against something cold—a can. “I found it!” I cry out, leaning just a little farther down, still trying to see the road.
It’s that moment.
That exact moment.
That changes my whole life.
A can. Four teenage girls, rummaging around on the floor.
My eyes off the road for a second.
Just a second.
Sophie finds the can too, and I sit up, looking back at the road just in time to see a girl, no older than me. She steps in front of the car, her long blond hair almost white from the glow of my headlights. The moment happens so fast, and yet it feels like it’s in slow motion. Like, if I think about it hard enough, I can see the flecks of blue in her grey eyes.
I will remember she doesn’t seem scared. Just resigned.
I will remember she smiles a little, almost as if to say she’s sorry.
I will remember the exact moment that her body collides with my car.
I try to slam on the brakes, but she’s too close. I hit her.
I will never forget that feeling, not until the day I die. I’ll never unhear the sound. Or unfeel the sickening thud as the car takes her down and she disappears under it. It hits so hard I know, I just know, that she’s not going to be okay.
I don’t need to beg for the best.
She’s not going to make it out of this.
But she knew that.
She knew it.
I spiral out of control the moment we collide. I lose complete control of the car. It spins and squeals, the tires trying desperately to grip the road. I’ve lost control, though. Everyone is screaming. Terrified, horrible screaming.
The car spins and spins, and then we’re flipping. We’re in the air, as if the car weighs nothing. I don’t know what happens in that moment. I don’t know if I hang onto anything. I don’t get the chance to think. The car lands back on all four wheels, spiraling forward and straight into a tree.
It hits so hard my head jerks forward and slams onto the steering wheel, just as the airbag bursts to life and throws my head backwards. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt rips through my body.
My world becomes dizzy. Someone is still screaming.
But all I can see is her.
The girl.
And her eyes.
Those eyes.
Those eyes—I’ll never forget them until the day I die.
2
NOW
“You’re free.”
I hate those words. Despise them. The revolting sound rings through my ears as I step out of the large, well-secured prison. The prison that I’ve called my home for the last six years. Six long, grueling years. I spent the first few years until I was eighteen in Juvie and then I was moved to an adult prison. I’ll never forget the day I had to grow up. The day I had to enter the real prison. It was horrible.
Guards are assholes. You learn that really fast when you’re locked away.
Involuntary manslaughter.
Involuntary. Doesn’t manslaughter itself mean it was an accident? So if it was voluntary, wouldn’t it be considered murder? I hate that stupid word. Involuntary. Like, as if you mean to accidentally kill someone.
I’ve had a long time to think these things over. Six years is quite a stretch, really. Mostly about her. Especially her. I’ve relived that moment every single time I close my eyes. Over and over, I see her face, the way she looked at me, the way her eyes held mine. That tiny smile she gave. Her own apology, I’ve decided. Her own way of saying she was sorry for the fact that she was about to royally fuck my life up forever.
Involuntary. Of course it was involuntary.
I didn’t mean to kill her.
But she’s gone.
Gone because of me.
Jessika is missing a leg because of me.
Sophie never spoke to me again.
Joanne—she’s the only one I have left. The only one who has been by my side for the last six years, pushing me, keeping me strong, reminding me that one day, one day, we’ll get justice.
Whatever the fuck that means.
I don’t trust the system. No. Not even a little. They didn’t even give me a chance.
Nobody listened when I said she stepped out in front of the car. Nobody heard my pleas. Nobody cared.
“How does it feel?”
I turn at the sound of my best friend’s voice, and my smile is huge. I haven’t hugged her freely in a long time, there have always been eyes watching. Now it’s just us. Freedom.
I scream and throw myself into her arms. The guard standing beside me, who so enthusiastically told me I was ‘free,’ as if I was going to thank him for all his hard work, grunts. He can start doing cartwheels for all I care.
My best friend is here. She’s here. She’s with me.
“I can’t believe you’re out, Callie,” she cries, sobbing into my shoulder as she hugs me tighter.
I squeeze her just as hard, but I don’t cry.
I stopped crying four years, two months, and three days ago. Not that anyone is counting. Hell, I try never to remember the moment when I swore I’d never shed a tear again. The moment I very nearly gave
up and considered the many ways I could end my life in a prison, but decided I was strong, stronger than all of it, and I’d get answers. One way or another. I’d get answers.
“I missed you,” I say to her, leaning back and grabbing her face in my hands, feeling the way her skin is soft and warm against my palms.
Her eyes are so bright. She’s happy. So happy.
That must feel amazing.
I wish I remembered how that felt. To laugh. To smile without pain. To feel pure joy. I was an innocent sixteen-year-old girl who thought it just couldn’t happen to me. Isn’t that what we all think? That it’ll never happen to us? That we’re invincible? I thought that. Hell, I was sure of it. All I wanted to do was take my mom’s car for a ride with my friends. In my mind, nothing could go wrong.
How very wrong I’d been.
“I rented an apartment for us, and I’m going to help you find a job,” Joanne says as we walk towards her car. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”
“I’m going to have trouble finding a job,” I tell her. “People aren’t fond of ex-crims.”
She waves a hand. “Nonsense. It’ll be fine. Perfectly fine.”
I give her a fake smile, because I think she’s wrong. I know how hard it’ll be for me out here. I always wondered about the day I got released, how it would feel, but eventually, I stopped thinking about it. Being in there, it became life. It’s funny how you get used to things you’re certain you could never adjust to.
That world—it’s all I know. For now, at least.
I remember what it was like on the outside, don’t get me wrong, but the little things fade away. Having your own space, your own bed, eating when you want, doing what you want—those things, they are a distant memory. But I’m looking forward to getting used to them again.
Once we’re in Joanne’s very cool car, I turn to her and say, “How’s things with you and Patrick?”
She exhales. “Okay, I guess. Living apart is helping, I think living together wasn’t making the situation any easier.”
