Double Trouble (Troublemaker Book 2)

by Cassie Mae

  “Your ass is fired,” he says, jutting a finger in my direction. “Get the hell out of here.”

  “Pete—” Mad interjects, but he levels her with the same look I had the privilege of resurrecting. I reach for Mad’s hand and give it a squeeze, rising to my feet.

  “I’m gonna grab some breakfast. Be back in a bit.”

  “The hell you are,” Pete growls.

  “Pete,” Mad repeats, and I see the look is genetic. Yikes. “I want him here, so he’s going to stay.”

  I stand a little taller. There’s no way I’ll match his height, but I will fight for what Maddie wants. Mad presses her lips to the back of my hand, melting my he-man stance.

  “I will be right back,” I assure her, then I slide past Pete, grateful he doesn’t put his fist in my face.

  The hospital is quiet this morning. No rush of doctors or chaotic beeping like it felt like all night long. I let the door ease shut behind me with a soft click, then follow the signs to the cafeteria. I’m not hungry, but I might as well do something to keep my mind busy.

  I get waffles, bacon, and hash browns that sit on my plate in a gooey mess of syrup. I poke around with my fork, my stomach clenching from the smell. My appetite is shit; all I want to do is rewind and make better decisions in round two.

  “Tanner?”

  I pick up my heavy head and turn toward Candace. Her knuckles turn white around the tray of food in her hands, and next to her is Demi, a confused look on her young face.

  Both sets of eyes are tired with dark circles underneath.

  “Hi,” I say, my voice gruff from not being used so much. I clear my throat, but I got nothing left to say. I’m just ready for her to let me have it, too.

  Candace slides into the seat across from me, Demi following suit. Demi splays her napkin across her lap and starts crunching on a piece of bacon.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, and my gaze jumps to her face. Concern pulls at her brow, her deep brown eyes wide and waiting. Her red-brown hair is piled onto her head, like she just threw it up and ran out the door the moment I called Pete.

  “Yeah…” I say cautiously. It’s a lie. I’m far from okay. I’m just bracing for the same anger I got from Pete. After all, Candace is the stickler for the rules. Candace is the one I’m afraid of firing my ass—though, technically, Pete just did that. Candace is the one I expect to reign down the wrath of God.

  Instead, she slides her hand across the tabletop and sets it gently on my wrist. Her lips turn down as she gives me a squeeze. “It’s okay if you’re not. It had to have been terrifying seeing Maddie like that.”

  I pinch my eyes shut, hoping it’ll erase the image that shoots into my mind. “It was.”

  “I’m so sorry, Tanner.”

  My eyes lift open, and confusion pulls at my brow. “Sorry? It’s my fault.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I snuck her in.”

  Candace takes her hand back and simply shakes her head at her food. “That board would’ve broken at some point. It just happened to be while you guys were being… troublemakers.”

  Demi laughs at the pun and reaches for her glass of orange juice. “It’s true,” she adds. “That board was so old. And so is Maddie.”

  Candace gawks at Demi and gives her a nudge. “Hey, I’m almost twenty-five.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Just three more years.”

  “Yeah, and in three years, I’ll be fourteen.”

  Candace groans and covers her ears. “I’m not listening to that! You aren’t allowed to get any older.”

  Demi sits a little taller, a smug smile on her face. I can’t believe they are both so… light-hearted right now. Somehow Pete and Candace have switched roles.

  “Are you going in to see her?”

  Candace nods, chewing on her egg sandwich. “Giving Pete a minute with her. We’ll head in after breakfast.”

  “You coming, too?” Demi asks, a hopeful lilt in her little voice. My lips turn up in a half grin. She’s not pissed at me. Well, two out of three siblings is still good odds.

  I nod and set my napkin down on my uneaten food. “Pete’s not happy with me, but Maddie wants me to stay.”

  “Good.” Candace takes another bite. “You’re important to her, and she needs you. Pete can just get over it.”

  They take their time eating and laughing, and I let myself relax just a bit in their presence. Damn, I was terrified of Candace’s reaction. I thought for sure she’d drag me outside and beat me upside the head with Mad’s broken skateboard. Honestly, I wonder if I prefer that punishment instead of this acceptance and understanding business. I don’t deserve it, that’s for damn sure.

  Demi takes my tray with hers and tosses the uneaten food. Candace loops her arm through mine, and we walk down the hallway, almost like a family, and something warm and comfortable hits me in the chest, and I didn’t think I’d love Mad more, but I do. I feel connected to all these other people who love her, too.

  I’m a goner. No matter what happens after this, I will forever be in love with Madison Owens.

  Pete’s sitting in the seat I vacated when we all enter the room. The anger still rests in his eyes, his shoulders tense, his arms crossed. His jaw clicks, and I stand my ground, stepping with confidence to Mad’s other side and planting a kiss on her forehead.

  “Whoa!” Demi exclaims, pointing to the gesture. “Are you… you guys boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  Red tinges Mad’s cheeks, and she lets out a girl giggle—one that gives her audience matching surprise.

  “Yes, Dem. Tanner’s my boyfriend.”

  Pete shifts in his seat, letting out a huff that would blow this hospital down. Candace jumps at the chance to change the subject.

  “So, Mad… did you completely black out?”

  She lets out a giant sigh, and we share a glance. I guess we’ll be retelling this for a while and might as well get used to it.

  “Completely. I don’t remember anything between my drop-in and the leg x-ray.”

  My brow furrows. “Nothing from the ambulance ride?”

  “Nada.” She taps the side of her head. “There are flashes of color, lights, but that’s it.”

  “Damn,” I say with a laugh. “You said some pretty funny stuff.” And some other not so funny stuff I won’t bring up in front of everyone. Maybe I’ll tease her later about dropping the L-bomb first. Never been in a relationship when that’s happened.

  “Cool,” Demi says, and at the same time Candace says, “Scary.”

  She nods to both of them with a small smile. I check on Pete who is still quiet in his seat, frozen in place. I don’t even know if he’s listening.

  “CT was clear, though,” Mad continues. “And it’s a small fracture in my leg. All in all, I still have my tough girl card.”

  Demi laughs, and Candace shifts her attention to me. “Are you feeling better about all that? I’m sure you were up all night with her.”

  Hell yeah. It was the longest night of my life.

  I reach for her hand, and Mad tucks her fingers through mine. “I’m just happy she got out of it okay.”

  The moment the words slip off my tongue, I know they’re the wrong ones. Pete snaps his head up, narrowing his eyes at me. “Yeah, Maddie sure looks okay.”

  Candace sighs. “Pete…”

  “Shit, am I the only sane person here? This is not okay.” He shoves to his feet. “Who’s gonna have to pay for this, huh? Did you think of that? Because hell, if this happened on Troublemaker’s property, you’d think them. But think again, because you were trespassing. Insurance will deny the shit out of this because of where it happened. So Troublemakers takes the hit, and guess who they’ll go after?” He thrusts his hand out at me. “Ding ding! The responsible party.”

  “Pete!” Candace says more forcefully, but he’s gone off, and he’s not getting reeled in. Pete steps in my face, and as much as I want to shrink under him, I don’t. I take the hit. I let him ye
ll and scream at me, saying everything I’m saying inside, but I’m too afraid to admit.

  “You don’t deserve her. You get that, right? Someone who would do this just to get her alone? Just to spend more time with her. To get her to like you. You gambled with her safety. Now she’s out of the competition and has a medical bill she has no way of paying. But it’s worth it, because you got the girl, huh? You get what you want, and what does she get? A cast and a freaking concussion. I say that’s bullshit.”

  Spit flies from his mouth and lands on my cheek, and anger rises up my neck, burning the back of my tongue. Anger not directed at him, but at myself.

  I breathe fast and hard, my back teeth skating off of each other as I grind them together. Candace tugs on Pete’s arm, her voice fuzzy in the buzzing in my ears.

  “Pete… calm down.”

  He tosses her hand off him, and she steps back from him. The wideness of her eyes softens his stance immediately, and his shoulders ease down. “Sorry,” he whispers to Candace, shaking his head. “I’m… I’m gonna get some air.”

  “Good idea.”

  He doesn’t look back, storming from the room. The door thuds shut, and Demi jumps in her seat, tears running down her small, innocent cheeks.

  I stand in a swamp of the words he threw at me. Responsible party, gambling with her safety…

  Maddie shifts, the rustle of sheets against her hospital gown filling the silent room. “Tanner—”

  “Don’t.” I shake my head hard, pinching the bridge of my nose. “He’s right.” I was stupid, inconsiderate, and I played a risk with Maddie and no person who loved her would do that. His words eat through me, taking chunks out of vital organs. “He’s right,” I say again, pushing past Candace and into the hallway. Pete rises from the wall he’s leaning against, but I don’t want to start anything.

  I give him a solitary nod, acknowledging that I hear him, I get it, I agree. I’m no good for Mad, and what I did proves it.

  I push out of the hospital doors, taking a deep breath of late August air. I yank my phone from my pocket and click on Google search.

  How much does a Sony camcorder sell for?

  Drugs really help a mood. A lot, I’m quickly finding out.

  The longer I’m out of the hospital, the gloomier I get. I’ve worn the same clothes for about a week. Shower time is a hassle with having to stick my leg out and hose myself down, so I’ve been relying on dry shampoo for the most part and Candace for balance.

  My memory foam mattress is getting to know me pretty well.

  I crunch on a baby carrot, the bag resting by my hip, my head propped on my pillows. My laptop sits on my stomach, a sneer curling around the carrot as I watch the judges select the boarders for this year’s competition. I don’t know why I’m watching. Masochist, I suppose.

  I was just hours away from sending my video and application, and I had to break my damn leg. I chuck a half-eaten carrot at the screen when the announcer says, “There’s our line up! Looking forward to a tight competition in October.”

  Eight weeks. Eight weeks of no boarding. I get the cast off a week after the competition, and even if I got it off earlier, everyone and their mom has an opinion about how soon I should jump on a board.

  I close the lid with a slam and toss it to the empty side of my bed where it joins a myriad of wrappers from my week of wallowing. Even when Tanner’s here, we cuddle in silence. He blames himself, and when I tell him to knock it off or leave, he leaves. Then I get pissed and yell at Pete for all the things he said to Tanner at the hospital.

  And holy hell, the pity looks. I’m so tired of the pity looks. Every person who walks in the room gives me that frown and the “how you doin’, hun?” like I’m incapable of taking care of myself. Sure, I need help showering, and as embarrassing as it is, Candace doesn’t seem fazed by my naked body. And yeah, I have a damn splint running up over my knee, and I can’t put any weight on that leg whatsoever. I’m getting really good at crutches and using my butt to scoot everywhere.

  The cast goes on hopefully a week from Monday, and it’s there for six weeks. I’m living in my own personal hell.

  An itch crawls across my ankle, and a hiss slips through my teeth. I can’t scratch the damn thing, and it’ll bug me for at least a half an hour.

  A rap against my bedroom door pulls my attention, and I let out a hefty sigh. Great, another pity visitor. Who will it be this time? Pete? Candace? Tanner?

  I hope it’s Tanner.

  “Yeah, come in,” I growl, wincing as I push against the mattress to a sitting position. I stuff a pillow under the splint, right under my knee, elevating my foot so it’s not touching anything.

  The door creaks open, and my body jerks in surprise. “Dad?”

  “Hi Madison.”

  “What are you doing here?” I jut my gaze to the pain killers I have sitting on my nightstand. I take the bottle and shove it in my drawer.

  He stops in his tracks, frowning at my haste to hide my medicine. “I wasn’t going to take them.”

  “Just easing the temptation for you.”

  He runs a hand over his salt and pepper beard, a habit Pete picked up from him. He looks sober today… and rough. His hand shakes against his jawline, a watery wall in his light brown eyes. A permanent worry line creases his forehead, his already wrinkled face looking more worn and stressed.

  “You mind?” he asks, gesturing to the edge of the bed. I shake my head, pushing aside my laptop and food wrappers so he can sit. The mattress sinks with his weight.

  I don’t remember the last time my father sat in my bedroom. He’s never seen this place, never visited before. I imagine the look on Pete’s face when he opened the door and let out an involuntary laugh.

  Dad tilts his head at the outburst but doesn’t ask about it. His eyes skate over my broken leg, his frown deepening. Wow, the pity look from Dad. That’s a first.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, crossing my arms. I’m far from fine, but he’s long lost the privilege to pity me. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Partly.” His voice is low, cracked with age and drug abuse. He tears his eyes from my leg and looks around my room. It’s a disaster, laundry spilling from my basket and hanging from my dresser drawers. But our home growing up was much worse, so I don’t apologize for it.

  “And the other part?” I prod. I hope he’s not here to take Dem out from me right now. I know I’m bedridden and unable to work and the medical bills will start piling up, but even so, I will fight for my sister. He’s sober… today. But what about next week? Next month? Next year? He hasn’t proven anything to me yet, and until he does, I will continue to fight.

  “I… heard you were on medication.”

  “Yes…” I say cautiously. He’s seen it already, and his eyes flick to my nightstand drawer briefly before he continues.

  “I want you to be careful, Madison.”

  I jerk back, my arms uncrossing and falling into my lap. “What are you getting at?”

  He reaches for my hand, and his skin is so foreign to me. The touch feels distant, unfamiliar, like a stranger brushing me on the sidewalk. It must feel this way to him too, because he doesn’t keep his hand there for long, pulling it back to his side. “I know what it’s like,” he says. “I know how it feels to have a tiny pill take every ounce of pain away. I know how addictive it is. I don’t want that for you.”

  I raise a brow, my heart thumping for him, for me, for the pain he’s reminding us both of. He quieted his own pain and amplified mine in the process. Not just mine, but Pete, Dem… our family was swimming in it every time we came home to a drugged up father.

  “Dad… I’ll never abuse. Never.” When he gives me a look filled with sympathy and skepticism, I shake my head and make my voice calm but strong. “Do you remember what it was like when I was a kid?” I let out a hollow laugh at the wrinkle in his brow. “Yeah, you probably don’t.”

  “I’m… not good with remembering things.”

  �
��Especially when you were doped out for half of it.” He winces against the truth of my words, but he doesn’t refute them. I take a deep breath. “Dad, I hated coming home after school. I never brought friends over. I hid in my room as much as I could. And when I turned sixteen, you forced me to pay for the bills. You begged me for money for your next fix. I went to school and worked and slept for two, three hours before having to do it all over again. I had to watch you retreat farther and farther from your family. There were days you just sat there, oblivious to everything around you. And there were other days that you would lose it over a stray Cheerio on the floor. I never knew which dad I was going to get, but either one sucked. One I feared, and the other I resented.”

  He nods, taking in every word I’ve held from him over the years. He won’t meet my eyes, but I need him to. I need him to see what he’s done, why I won’t do that to myself or the family he abandoned for drugs.

  “That’s why I won’t abuse those pills in my drawer. It’s why I take less than the recommended dose. And that’s why I don’t want Demi to live with you.”

  His gaze shoots up to me as I let the last sentence fall from my lips. I straighten my shoulders and look him straight in the eye. “You’re sober. I know this. But for how long, Dad?” I shake my head. “If I can give Demi a life free from the one I had growing up, I will. And I won’t back down. I won’t just sit and take it anymore. I may be stuck in this bed, stuck doing it on my own, but I don’t care. I will do everything for that girl, and I’ll do anything to keep her here with me.”

  He swallows hard, coughing around the lump that must be in his throat.

  “You won’t be on your own,” a voice comes from my open bedroom door. Pete steps out from the shadows, into the room with me and our father. His eyes swivel from me to Dad and back again, sorrow filling his features.

  “Aren’t you moving out?” Dad says, his voice gruff, but there is no malice. He genuinely seems to understand where we are, what we want.

  I however, eye my brother up and down, waiting for him to answer that question. Last time I checked, he was ready to hightail it out of here.