Rewriting Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC #1) Read online

  After I take my bag up to my room and eat my apple, I run downstairs to check in with Gram. She has felt under the weather lately, but she won’t go to the doctor. She’s sleeping more than usual, and whenever she is doing something more than sitting, she gets short of breath. I’m no doctor, but even I know this is more than a cold or old age. I just need to convince her of that.

  “Hey, Gram, I’m going to start making the pies for tomorrow. Then I’ll clean up. Do you need anything before I get started?”

  She’s in her chair in the sitting room with her latest cross stitching project. Without even looking up, she says, “No, sweetheart, I’m fine. Would you like help with the pies?”

  I’m not the best cook, but these pies should be pretty simple. I don’t think there is much room to go wrong when I have her recipes. “I got it, you just relax. I’ll bring your dinner in later.”

  By the time I finish making one apple and two pumpkin pies, get supper done, and then clean up the kitchen, it is past ten. I jump in the shower and put on my yoga pants and a tank top, then lie on my bed to draw a little. Except for what I draw in art class, I haven’t done much else lately. I forgot how relaxing it can be, and a great way to free my mind when I have so much going on. Tonight is no different. I just clear my head and put my pencil to paper and let go.

  When I’m done, I finally look at what I have drawn: a girl facing away from me with long, dark hair. Leaves are falling all around her, and down the road, you can see a bright red door. Flowing out of her hair are birds, flying away. It’s a picture of the girl walking away from what she’s known, and going toward the door that leads into the unknown. And the birds signify that she’s letting go of all her shame, all her hurt, all of her hopes. If someone were to look at this picture, they’d probably say the girl is sad and it’s depressing. But when I look at it, it looks like freedom.

  After I put all my drawing stuff away, I get under the covers and check the time on my phone. I see a text notification. Between talking to Gunnar, making pies, and cleaning, I forgot I got a message earlier. It’s from Zane. With a smile on my face, I open it up to see what he has to say, but as I read the message, my smile fades.

  Zane: Hey Baby Girl. I hate to do this, but I won’t be able to make it home for Thanksgiving. We have extra practices with big games coming up. I’m so sorry…

  He’s not coming home? I don’t care if they have state championships the day after Thanksgiving, I need him here. I haven’t seen him since the day he left. I hoped with him home, I’d finally start feeling like myself again and things would be clearer. I wipe the tears I didn’t even know I was shedding, and pull up my contacts to call him. It rings five times before going to voicemail. “Hey…I just got your message. You really can’t come home? Even for a day? I really miss you…I need to see you. Call me when you can, please.”

  I hang up the phone and stare at the ceiling. Knowing he won’t be here this weekend, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. The nightmares will come tonight; I can feel them already sneaking up on me.

  Since Zeke died, whenever I’m upset about something, they come. It started out with reliving my grandmother telling me about Zeke and the funeral, but then they progressed into my fear of losing Zane. It happens differently every time; sometimes instead of Zeke, it’s Zane who went overseas and I’m getting news that he died. Or Zane tells me he doesn’t want me and I watch him walk away. Sometimes it’s a combination of the day he left for college and losing him the way we lost Zeke. It doesn’t matter what scene takes place in those dreams, the outcome is always the same. Me, alone, feeling broken and unwanted.

  Ten minutes into my staring contest with the ceiling, my phone pings. I quickly grab it, hoping it’s Zane.

  Zane: Can’t talk right now, in a study group.

  A study group at midnight? And on the night before a holiday…if I didn’t know better, I would think that he’s making excuses and lying to me, but he would never do that to me. Would he?

  Me: Study group this late?

  Zane: Yeah, we’ve got a project due for a class the first day back from break, that’s why I can’t make it home.

  Me: I thought you couldn’t make it home because you had football practice…

  His reply doesn’t come for a couple minutes. I worry I’ve upset him, but I can’t find it in myself to care. If he is lying to me, it would be the first time. And the fact that he felt he couldn’t just tell me the truth hurts worse than if he would’ve said he doesn’t want to come home. Sure, that would hurt like hell too, but lying to me…that’s a knife to my heart.

  Zane: Look, I have practice AND a big project due. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you like you’re my mother. I said I can’t make it home, end of story.

  I can’t believe he’s talking to me like this. Even when he’s been at his worst, he has never taken anything out on me. The way he’s being right now makes me want to throw my phone or drive to where he’s at and throat punch him. Then the beeping of my phone brings me out of thoughts of violence.

  Zane: I’m sure you’ll be busy enough with your boyfriend anyway. Look, I have to get back, I'll talk to you later.

  I think about what he said and how I should reply. It’s not only that he seems to be ignoring me, but he’s upset that I’m dating Gunnar. He doesn’t know that I’m ending it with him, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve always put Zane before Gunnar, even though he isn't here. There’s no reason he should be like this toward me.

  I give up. I’m done being the only one trying to keep our friendship on track. I'm done with feelings of hurt and disappointment. I slowly type out my response. Then I stare at it long and hard before hitting the send button.

  Me: I get it, Zane. I hope practice and your project go well…I’ll leave you alone from now on. By the way, I broke up with Gunnar.

  I turn my phone off without waiting for a response. Instead of burying myself under my covers, I decide to go to the party Gunnar mentioned. Since it’s a warm night, I slip on my jean skirt and change into a black tank top. I head into the bathroom to fix my hair and put on some make-up. Since I’m in a dark mood, I use a heavier hand with my eye shadow, eye liner, and mascara. I put my hair in a messy pony tail and give it more volume. Once finished in the bathroom, I sit on my bed and put on my black combat boots.

  I quietly walk down the stairs so I don’t wake Gram, and get in my car. I don’t need to call Gunnar to ask where the party is; they are always at the lake. Tonight, I’m going to drown everything I'm feeling in a bottle of Jack.

  ***

  The first thing I notice when I arrive at the party is that there are more people than I expected. Considering how late it is and that it’s the night before Thanksgiving, I assumed that nobody would be here. Not that it matters; I’m here for one thing and one thing only: Jack Daniels.

  I head right over to the table where the drinks are usually set up. I hope there is still something left since the party has been on for a few of hours now.

  I pass a couple kissing by the fire, another stumbles over to the vehicles, and there’s a group of guys from the football team huddled around the keg. That sight alone makes me smile. That hasn’t changed since Zane left; you can always count on the football players guarding the keg. When I used to come to parties here with Zane, I would hang with him and his friends on the team before branching off to sit with some girls. But most of them graduated when he did, leaving Jaxon the only one who I’ve spent some time with.

  I spot a half bottle of Jack, so I grab it and then walk over to the guys by the keg. When I’m a few feet away, I notice Jaxon has spotted me and has a look in his eye that would normally make me want turn and run, afraid of what caused it, but I hold his stare and continue forward. I’m not sure where my confidence and attitude are coming from, but I kind of like it. Maybe I’ve found the new me. Kickass, take-no-prisoners Danielle.

  He intercepts me before I make it all the way to the group. “I take it someone told you,” h
e says when he reaches me.

  “Why else would I be here?” I reply. Not like I would need someone to tell me about a party to show up, but I suppose it helps.

  He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives me a look of apology. “I’m sorry, Danielle. I tried to reason with him, but I think he is too drunk to know better.”

  Looking at him in confusion, I try to laugh it off. “What are you talking about, Jax?”

  He lowers his hand from my shoulder and shakes his head. “Wait, you’re not here because someone told you about Gunnar?”

  What would Gunnar have anything to do with my being here? Sure we’re dating, but he isn’t the only reason I would come to a party. “Tell me about what? Gunnar called me earlier to tell me about the party. I wasn’t going to come, but I finished what I had to do at home so I decided to show up to have a couple drinks.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and the look he is giving me is a look of confusion, anger, and pity.

  “What’s going on, Jaxon?” There has to be something more to this.

  He runs his hand through his hair and gives a nervous chuckle. “Uh…nothing. Just didn’t know you were coming. Gunnar said you weren’t, is all.”

  “Jax, spit it out already. I know something is going on, and if you don’t tell me, I’ll find someone who will.”

  I turn to walk away, but he grabs my hand to stop me. “Look, Danielle, I thought you already knew. I don’t want to be the one to tell you, but you should know.”

  I wait for him to continue, but he says nothing. I go to walk away again, but he pulls me back. “Just say it, Jaxon!” On top of everything else I’ve dealt with tonight, I don’t need to add any more. Everyone wants to beat around the bush instead of being straight with me. I’m sick of it.

  “Okay, okay…Gunnar, he uh…he left with Sophie.” He doesn’t say anymore.

  So what if he left with Sophie? I would rather have him catch a ride home than…Wait. He left with Sophie… “As in…he left with her to get a ride home or…” I don’t finish. I think I already know the answer.

  “Exactly.” I can tell Jaxon is upset on my behalf, but surprisingly, I’m not. I don’t know if it’s because I’m already feeling numb inside from my conversation with Zane, or because I was planning on breaking up with Gunnar after Thanksgiving anyway. Regardless, it doesn’t bother me.

  I start laughing, which makes Jaxon look at me like I’m losing it. Maybe I am, but I don’t care. Finally, I calm down enough to speak. “Look, Jaxon, I can tell you are upset for me, and I appreciate it, really. But it’s okay. I’m okay.”

  This has him staring at me like I’m certifiably crazy. “You’re okay with the fact that your boyfriend left with another chick and is doing God knows what right now with her?”

  Having him break it down for me out loud should have me flinching or at least making me want to cry, but I feel nothing.

  “I was going to break up with him anyway. So he can do whatever he wants. I’m fine, really. Let’s just drink and have a good time, all right?” I sidestep him and head over to the rest of the guys. I don’t really talk to any of them except Jaxon since that first day of school when he plopped himself down across from me at lunch, but I don’t care. I came here to have a good time, and what better way to do that than to lose myself with a bunch of football players and have a few drinks?

  I no longer feel like I need to get wasted, but I can still have a good time and drink socially. In a way, hanging with the football players makes me feel closer to Zane. Closer than I’ve felt to him in a long while. So tonight is going to be about reminiscing about the good old days, and thinking about me for once. I’m not going to worry about my grandmother, what I’m going to do with Gunnar, or missing Zane. Tonight is about me, myself, and I for a change. Everything else can wait till tomorrow.

  Chapter 8

  It’s early afternoon when I finally get out of bed and head downstairs. My grandmother is in the kitchen slowly moving around and making the stuffing before putting our small turkey in the oven. When she looks up, I see her smile. “Morning, sweetheart. You look happy today.” She winks at me before resuming her preparations for our Thanksgiving dinner.

  I guess I am happy, or at least happier than I have been the last couple months. After the revelations of last night, I feel lighter almost. Maybe I should feel down and depressed or even pissed off that Gunnar most likely cheated on me last night, but I don’t. I feel relieved that now I have a viable reason to end our relationship. Though I would have ended it anyway, I think it will go smoother now that there is a reason. To be honest, he was probably thinking the same thing, and that’s why he cheated.

  Since it’s always just my grandmother and myself, we don’t have to make a lot, but we make plenty to stuff ourselves to the max for dinner and have plenty of leftovers. Thank goodness I made the pies yesterday, otherwise it would be hell getting it all done after I slept in. I didn’t drink too much, but I stayed out till five this morning joking and talking to Jaxon. He really is a nice guy. I think we will be good friends.

  With the turkey in the oven, we don’t need to do anything until we make the potatoes, green bean casserole, gravy, and the dinner rolls about an hour before the turkey is done. I tell Gram to sit down and relax, then head upstairs for a quick shower before cleaning the rest of the house.

  After everything is cleaned, I get everything set up for the rest of our dinner, then sit in the living room to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. It’s a tradition that Gram and I do every year. I love watching all the floats and listening to the different kinds of music. It makes me feel happy, no matter what mood I wake up in. I can always count on the parade lifting my spirits.

  I decide to take the pie I made for the Hendricks’ over to their house before finishing dinner; that way I won't have to worry about it later. We always make a pie for them on Thanksgiving. Gram taught me that this holiday is about giving, and what better thing to give than a yummy pie? I know it’s going to be weird going over there without Zane, but I’ll get over it.

  With the pie in hand, I walk to the door, but Gram stops me. She says she could use the fresh air and will take it over instead.

  “Okay, Gram, I’ll finish dinner while you’re gone.” I hand her the pie and return to the kitchen. Once everything is in the oven, I head upstairs to change into a new dress I bought for today. It may be silly since no one will be coming over, but I want to look nice. I usually wear a dress for all our holiday dinners, whether it’s just us here or we have guests over. It feels right to do so on special occasions.

  As I turn to walk out of my room, I spot the football Zeke left. I should have given it to Zane after Zeke died, but I wanted to keep something of his for myself. I know that was selfish, but it’s the only thing I have of his except for a couple of old shirts. This football is more personal, though, and it was something he specifically gave to me to hold on to.

  I walk over and hold it in my hands. I remember all the times the three of us played catch, and all the times I watched the boys play a friendly game of tag football in their back yard. Those days were the happiest I’d ever been. I had a best friend and a big brother. But those days are long gone, and I’ll never have that feeling back. With a heavy heart, I put the football back where it was on my shelf and head downstairs to check on the food.

  ***

  Dinner was delicious, as always. There’s something about Thanksgiving that I love; it could be the food, or maybe it’s the fact that I have my grandmother to be thankful for. Being here with her all these years has been great. I can’t say that I wish I didn’t have my parents with me, because who knows, maybe if my mother hadn’t died, or my father hadn’t walked out on me, my life would have been different—perfect, even. Or maybe things happened the way they were supposed to. Let’s face it, it could have been worse. I could have been placed in foster care and ended up with strangers. Instead, I got to grow up with a family member who loves me. Even though
when I was young I was resentful that I didn’t get to do some activities or go places the other kids got to, now that I’m older, I appreciate the little things like helping my grandmother do yard work, working in the kitchen with her, and listening to her tell me bedtime stories. Those memories are priceless, so yeah, I have a lot to be thankful for.

  I finish cleaning the kitchen, tell Gram goodnight, and head up to my room for a hot bath. After last night and a day full of cooking, I could use a nice long soak.

  While I’m sitting in the water, I close my eyes and try to clear my head, but I keep thinking about Gunnar and Zane. It’s like a broken record going back and forth, skipping between the two: how much I miss Zane and where things are going with Gunnar. I can’t believe that I haven’t heard from him yet. I thought someone would tell him I showed up at the party after he left, or that he would feel guilty about what he did. It’s possible it was all innocent, but I find that hard to believe. Jaxon said they were pretty cozy even before they left the party. I’m almost one hundred percent positive something happened. They may not have had sex, but it was far from innocent. Not like it matters; we were doomed from the beginning. Which brings me back to Zane. I thought my feelings for him would have diminished, but they seem stronger than ever.

  I get out of the bath, grab a pair of panties and a tank top, then plop down on my bed. I reach for my phone to see if I might have missed a call or text from Gunnar, but realize I never turned it back on after I sent that last message to Zane. Shit, maybe he has been trying to get in touch with me all day and I didn’t even know it.

  As I turn my phone on, there’s suddenly a sound at my window. It almost sounds like the glass is cracking or a tree branch has hit it. I look outside and stay quiet to see if it happens again. After a moment, I hear it, but this time I can tell it’s a rock being thrown at my window. It must be Gunnar. If he tried calling me and I never answered, he probably decided to come over to see what was going on. I was planning to wait to end things with him, but I suppose the sooner I can get it over with, the better.