Jerk: Delinquent Rebels MC (17 page)

Staggering across the manicured lawn and over the bridge to the guest cottage, April realized before she’d even fished out her key and opened the door that she knew what she had to do.

And for the second time that summer, her heart shattered into a million pieces.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

April had never been to a jail before—or a prison, because apparently they were two different things. She’d never been in trouble with the police, never been a public menace. Sure, one time in college she’d been escorted out of the bar by security because she was a little
too
drunk for them to turn a blind eye toward. Back then, even in her intoxicated state, that had been the most embarrassing moment of her life: being paraded past all the other bar-goers who somehow managed to keep themselves together better than she did. It was that night that she decided it was time to ease back on the drinking, even for a college student.

But this was something else entirely. Bloomsburg was about an hour and a half away from Cascade Falls and was only slightly more industrial than her tiny lakeside town. There were a few more chain restaurants, a couple of fast food places, and a superstore that carried just about everything a person could need. Cascade Falls had, in her opinion, a little more class than Bloomsburg. The kids here were rougher; she’d known that even in high school. So, it didn’t surprise her that James Palmer had some sketchy business associate all the way out here.

She’d left as soon as she woke up that next morning, knowing that she couldn’t leave Van waiting for long. James had caught her on her way out, and the look she gave him let him know that he’d won, once and for all. She didn’t have it in her to go toe-to-toe with him. He’d already proven that he could be a dangerous son-of-a-bitch when he burned down her mom’s boutiques, and she’d let her feelings for Van cloud the fact that she’d put herself and her mom in very real danger by continuing with a relationship that that psychopath deemed unacceptable.

Even if Van had fought for her, she should have just gone home. June would have been back within a few weeks of her arrival, and her best friend could help her forget all about the man who’d stolen her heart and made her really feel things for the second time in her life. By now, maybe she would have met someone else, someone with less baggage, someone who wasn’t going to be her stepbrother in less than two weeks. Someone safe and a little boring.

At least with safe and boring she wouldn’t be sitting at the parking lot of a police station, mentally preparing herself to face her boyfriend behind bars.

Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror. It wasn’t for vanity’s sake; April didn’t want to look miserable and exhausted, even if that was how she felt, when Van saw her. Even though she was here to call things off, she didn’t want to make him feel guilty for putting her through this. It wasn’t his fault his father was a sociopath bent on acquiring her mom’s fortune and keeping her and Van apart. Though, if she was being honest, it was hard not to be frustrated with him: Van made her love him in nothing more than a couple of months, and now she had to destroy them because of his family.

Once she was half ready, barely ready, April climbed out of her mom’s car, which she’d taken without telling her—though she’d left a note—and slammed the door shut. Just as she locked it, a cruiser pulled up to the spot across the small parking lot from her, and April watched as a new arrestee was hauled out and walked into the building, his hands in cuffs. She gulped, suddenly feeling very small in front of the station. It was just brick, nothing more. She ought to be more frightened of the men inside than the walls facing her.

The entrance hall was bustling with people, both average and official alike. No one paid her any attention, and she followed the signs through the pastel yellow painted hallways, the linoleum tile making everything just that much more depressing, until she reached the counter she wanted. There was a line, so she waited, patiently, until it was her turn, and then stated that she was here to see Van Palmer.

“You paying his bail?” the woman behind the counter asked, clacking away at her computer without looking up at April. She nibbled her lip, hesitant, and then asked how much the bail was set at. When the woman listed the price, her stomach flew up into her chest. She didn’t even have that much money in all of her accounts, period.

“No,” April admitted, her cheeks bright red as the woman’s stare wandered her way. “Just a visit, I guess.”

The woman arched a thin eyebrow at her. “You know… this isn’t just some hotel where you can visit your man whenever you feel like it.”

“I called ahead,” she said in a very small voice. “I was told it’d be okay to see him.”

After another hard look, the woman behind the desk picked up an old corded phone with a sigh, then she spoke into it in a hushed voice. April fidgeted with her purse strap, acutely aware that the eyes of everyone else in the line were on her.

“Go to those doors down the hall,” the woman told her after a very long couple of minutes of talking on the phone, clicking around her computer, and grabbing some paperwork. She thrust the papers into April’s hands. “You get ten minutes to talk, then we have to pull you out. Standard procedure, you understand.”

“Yes, thank you,” April said, as she grabbed the papers and made a beeline for the doors outlined in orange paint. Once in there, she was stopped by a pair of security guards. One took her purse and started rooting through it, and the other, another female officer, searched her person. Pockets. Bra. Shoes. Everything.

“Can’t have visitors bringing in any weapons or illegal substances,” the male officer remarked when he handed her purse back. She nodded, and while she understood, she couldn’t help but feel totally violated at the same time.

When they were through patting her down, April was taken to a separate building where they housed the prisoners. Most were short-term stays from what she gathered, and she was beyond relieved that she wasn’t forced to walk by the cell blocks. Unlike all the movies and TV shows that had prisoners screaming at visitors and making kissy noises, the establishment was pretty damn quiet.

Van was already waiting for her when she finally found him, seated at a table in a small room, his hands cuffed to a metal loop on the tabletop.

“No touching,” the guard said when she went to hug him, and April made her way around the table to the other chair stiffly. Once they were alone, all she could do was stare at him. He looked tired, yes. In the last three days, his face had lost a little weight, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they were feeding him properly. Apparently Palmer prejudice was a thing, given the astronomical amount his bail was set at.

“Hi,” he breathed, reaching across the table for her. April reached back, threading her fingers through his.
Fuck the no touching rule.

“I wanted to come last night,” she assured him, “but it… wasn’t going to happen.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he insisted with a shake of his head. He smiled broadly and gave her hands a squeeze. “I’m just happy to see you now. You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“How are you doing?” she asked, ignoring the way his affectionate name for her made her stomach knot. “You look… tired.”

“Could be worse,” he muttered. He then leaned in, his smile fading. “Apparently someone is pushing me straight to a trial. Whoever set me up with the drugs probably wants me locked up.”

She wanted desperately to tell him the real villain in this story, but there were two cameras in the room, and it wouldn’t surprise her if they had sound. The second she ratted out James Palmer, her mom’s life was in jeopardy—and she wasn’t going to risk it. So, instead, she rubbed her thumbs over the backs of his hands, her eyes prickling with tears.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said, his smile returning somewhat half-heartedly. “None of this is your fault.”

Their eyes met, and April couldn’t help but think that in a way, it
was
her fault. If she hadn’t been in Van’s life romantically, maybe James wouldn’t have put a target on his back.

“Is my dad here, or—“

“Just me,” she said, retracting her hands and setting them on her lap instead. They only had a limited amount of time, and she’d kick herself if she told him that she was breaking up with him right when she was forced to leave. “Look, Van… I came down here to tell you that…” She swallowed hard, each word feeling painful as she forced them out of her mouth. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he studied her. “Do what anymore?”

“Us,” April clarified, unable to look at him. “This. Our relationship. It’s too stressful, especially with you h-here now. When the wedding is over, I’m going to go home, and that’ll be that.”

She blinked hastily to stop the tears from falling, then she dared to glance up at him. There was anger in his eyes, yes, but also pain and heartache. How could she put him through this again? How could she knowingly put
herself
through this?

“April, I don’t understand. You’re mine, remember?” he managed after a few moments of stunned silence. “Where is this coming from? Sweetheart, is someone forcing you to—“

“It’s my decision,” she stated, sounding much braver and more confident than she felt. “I’ve been feeling this way for a little while—“

“But we talked about things already.” She knew he meant their conversation about them becoming stepsiblings.

“It’s not about that,” April told him, lifting her chin and looking at him over the tip of her nose. “It’s… It’s… I just can’t do this.”

Or her mom was going to die and James Palmer would never leave her alone. She bit back the words

“April,” he said as she stood. “April, let’s just talk about this. Please…”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

As she headed for the door, dragging her feet behind, all she wanted to do was to turn back and throw her arms around him. Hug him. Kiss him. Love him. Even if it was just to say goodbye, but she knew that doing so would only make things harder for everyone. So, she went for the door and stood in silence, waiting for the officers to let her out. When she stepped through the doorway, she dared to spare a glance back at Van. He sat at the table, his head in his hands, silent.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but she was sure he couldn’t hear her. Escorted by the guards, April walked out of the county jail in a fog. She barely heard anything anyone said to her, the last word Van said echoing in her mind.
Please
.

Somehow, she found herself back in the front seat of her mom’s car. She kept the door open, the heat of the morning making the vehicle almost unbearable to sit in, but she did. She let the seat burn her thighs, the steering wheel singe her palms. The pain was good; it let her know she was still alive after what she’d just done.

Breaking up with the man who could have been her forever… while he was in a county jail awaiting his trial. Was there anyone lower than her out there?

When the fog finally lifted, her brain breaking free of the numbing haze it had been in since she left him, the storm rolled in, and unable to stop it, April doubled over and sobbed, crying and crying until there were no more tears left.

And then the numbness returned.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The wedding of Renee O’Hara and James Palmer was about to be the most extravagant Cascade Falls had seen in decades—and it was bound to be discussed in detail, from the flower arrangements to the ushers to the gowns the aging bridesmaids would show off proudly for decades to come. It was a town wide event, and April hated that she was a part of it, that she hadn’t found a way to stop it. While her mom was happily hopping into the happiest day of her life—for the second time—April could barely get herself out of bed.

She wasn’t a bridesmaid. She wouldn’t be standing up in front of everyone alongside her mom as she said her cheesy vows to James Palmer. Instead, April, dressed in a fitted black midi with capped sleeves and a lace overthrow, would walk her mom down the aisle. She was going to give her away to that awful man; it seemed her life could never stop being one big ironic joke.

Since breaking things off with Van last week, she’d been in a stupor, moving listlessly from task to task, nodding and smiling as her mom prepped for her wedding day. She checked seating arrangements with the wedding planner, sampled all the food one last time, and ensured everyone knew precisely what they would be doing on the big day, even if they seemed like they were paying attention at the rehearsal. On top of all that, she’d tried her hardest to stay the hell away from James Palmer. No more nights in the guest cottage; she couldn’t stand smelling Van’s pillow or seeing his clothes and pictures.

After all, why would she need to see pictures? She had the picture of Van’s heartbroken face, followed by his bowed head and silence, floating around in her head most hours of the day and night anyway. She had all the images of Van that she needed, thank you very much.

“It’s just absurd and
cruel
that they couldn’t give him, I don’t know, a little break to come to the wedding,” her mom said as she sat in the hair salon, a stylist prepping her for the big day. April leaned on the counter, her simple, half-up-half-down style already complete, and folded her arms.

“You don’t get a break from prison, Mom.”

“Oh, I know, but wouldn’t it be nice to have the whole family here?”

Unable to come up with a response, April simply turned away and asked someone to touch up her nails, as if Van Palmer and his predicament were the last things on her mind. There was so much going on around her, and it should have been easy to stop thinking about him. Bridesmaids were having their hair and makeup done, along with manicures, and April was fielding calls from the wedding planner every ten minutes with little hiccups that would, she promised, be resolved by the time everything got started.

April, meanwhile, was always about ten seconds away from breaking down in front of everyone, her lips in a constant wobble, tears always
just
on the verge of falling. All she wanted to do was crawl into Van’s huge bed, hide under the covers, and pretend that none of this had ever happened. She wished it was still three weeks ago and that they were riding through the countryside together, up to the lookout to watch the oncoming thunderstorm of the summer beneath the little rickety shelter. She wished he was still holding her tight as the thunder rocked Cascade Falls, the very hills themselves rattling with each boom.

Instead, he was behind bars, awaiting a verdict she already knew the answer to; James had been too happy to share with her that the DA, who was in his pocket, was going to push for Van to serve out a light sentence in a minimum security facility near Cascade Falls. Once he was done serving his time, James gloated, Van would need to come back and work for James in order to make up for lost profits at the bar, which was bound to go under without him cracking the whip.

It was horrible. Disgusting. But what was she to do? Spill it all to the police and watch James worm his way out of trouble, only to turn around and punish her by hurting her mom, then April too? No. She had more sense than that—or so she liked to think. It was the only way she could live with herself after what she did to Van that day at the county jail.

Once the ladies were made beautiful by the overpriced stylists at the salon near her mom’s apartment building, everyone was whisked off to the church to get ready for the ceremony. Most of the chatter was about the reception after at the resort. April’s mom had spared no expense over the food and drinks for the evening, and James had alluded to hiring some spectacular entertainment to keep everyone entertained. If the ceremony was going to be remembered for decades, the reception would live on in infamy for a whole lifetime.

April was the fastest to get into her dress, and rather than sitting around listening to the ladies babble to one another, she went out and wandered to church under the guise of checking on everything. It was all in order, as it should be. The wedding planner was top-notch, despite her mom’s complaints, and April had every confidence that the wedding would go off without a hitch.

What a depressing thought.

By the time guests started arriving, April was desperate to hide somewhere. She couldn’t take all the pointless small talk from acquaintances who were here mostly to see what scandals they could find at the wedding of the decade. Very few of her blood relatives were in attendance; no one from her dad’s side showed except for a cousin, who April had met once years ago. Otherwise, her mom was an only child whose parents had died, and very few her West Coast relatives were willing to make the trek out to the eastern side of the country for a second wedding.

April couldn’t blame them, but she would have enjoyed their company.

Time moved unnervingly fast that day. After shooing all the bridesmaids out of the dressing room, her mom wrapped her arms around April’s shoulders for a heart-to-heart.

“You know you’re my number one person,” her mom said, kissing her cheek gently to avoid leaving a lipstick stamp. April nodded and gave a small smile. It wouldn’t be fair to be outwardly miserable to her mom on her big day. She had a secret that she couldn’t share, so why take it out on her mom? James’s cruelty seemed to be her burden to carry—or else.

“I love you,” was all April could muster after her mom went on and on about how marrying James didn’t make April any less of her daughter, and how Van was going to be her new son, but April was important too. It was textbook, and April smiled the way she thought she should smile, given the situation.

The wedding planner arrived shortly after, urging the two to join the bridal precession. Waiting at the back of the church as bridesmaids and groomsmen walked down the aisle together should have been nerve-wracking, but April felt… nothing. She was empty, unable to stop this awful situation from happening. Van was locked up. James was about to become her stepfather—and her mom would go on living her life with rose-colored glasses, unaware that anything was actually wrong.

At last it was their turn to walk. The music shifted. Everyone turned to admire her mom in the beautiful white dress that April had helped her choose. She forced a smile, knowing there would be pictures taken, and preferred to look at the folks in the pews than the man waiting for them at the end. All of this, in a way, was her fault. She could have put a stop to this weeks ago, back when the threats were first issued. She could have grabbed her mom and ran—straight to the police, out of town, wherever.

Instead, she let her fear guide her. Anything that happened from here on out was her fault.

James looked quite smart in his tux, and he accepted his beaming bride with more grace than April thought he could ever muster. He looked almost… happy, but then again, sociopaths knew how to mimic facial expressions. In that moment, James probably knew precisely how he ought to act. As he walked her mom up the last few steps, he glanced back and winked at April, and she was proud that she didn’t double over and vomit right there in front of everyone.

Numb, April shuffled over to her place in the front row, which was empty for the bride’s immediate family only. So, she was alone. Aware that people would be watching her, she clasped her hands together and set them on her lap, her knuckles white as she tried her best to keep herself together.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest began, his voice booming across the whole hall, “we are gathered her today to witness the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony…”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she watched, helpless and horrified, as James Palmer took the last piece of her heart away forever.