Page 218 of Ruptured
Rebel calling his name from the other end of the hallway startled him and he jerked around. An angel in a sky blue nightgown with matching robe, she started toward him, her hair floating around her. He’d hoped to escape without running into her. Once he’d left her in the guest room, he’d tossed and turned most of the night.
“Hey, Reb.” Shoving the key back into his pocket, he picked up his bag and moved away from his door, afraid she’d corner him. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Where are you going?”
“A run.” Simple was best. “It’ll only be for a few days.”
She nodded. “When you get back, will you take me for a spin?”
He adjusted his bag, not wanting to burst the hope in her eyes but knowing he had to make her understand his future only included her as a little sister. More importantly, he wanted her to accept Jana. “When I return, I’ll be busy moving Jana in.”
Accusation burned in her eyes, and she stiffened, opening her mouth to say something. Blast him, probably.
“Rebel, don’t,” he warned her. “Jana will be my wife.”
“You have a wife,” she spat.
“Not one I want!” Diesel drew in a deep breath. “Jana is important to me. She’s nothing like Tabitha. Give her a chance, Rebel. Please. For me.”
“I willneveraccept that bitch into my life,” she snarled. “I hate her.”
“You don’t even know her,” he snapped.
“Her name’s enough! Anyone called John is a fucking bitch, cunt, and motherfucker all rolled into one.”
“Her name’sJana.”
“A feminine form of John, dickhead, which I was forced to learn when you hijacked the name of our baby for you and Tabitha.”
“Shut the fuck upnow,” Diesel growled, frustrated because she was so goddamnfrustrating. “You got it in your head thatwewould have a baby and name her Julia. I never agreed to that because it will never fucking happen. How many ways do I have to tell you that?”
“That isn’t true! I’d gotten you to change your mind. It’s only because of that man’s stupid fucking cameras.”
“That man is your father, and it isn’t only because of the cameras.” He felt like pitching something. He wasn’t sure of Uncle Christopher and CJ’s location, but he was happy the Triplets were at school. He set his bag down, settled his hands on her shoulders, and met her gaze. “I want to do better, sweetheart. Be better. I haven’t seenyou, my beautiful little sister, in weeks. I saw a gorgeous body, and that was so fucking wrong of me.”
He pretended his jealousy toward Kaia didn’t exist or how he sometimes wished they weren’t siblings, and he was younger or she was older. Even then, he reminded himself she’d drive him fucking insane. She expected the world to revolve around her. If he told her to go left, she’d go right just to piss him off. And Rebel would expect the accountability no fuck buddy, girlfriend, fiancè, or wife had ever demanded from him.
“Don’t do this, Diesel. Don’t move her here.”
Sighing, he dropped his hands. “Isn’t Kaia here?”
“I’ve only seen him once.” She looked at him through her lashes and smirked. “Maybe, I’ll visit him in his room.”
Resentment lashed Diesel and he glowered at her. “And he will fucking die.”
“No, he won’t,” she said with certainty.
Diesel wouldn’t debate that. No matter who he married, he’d make it his life’s mission to run Kaia away. He didn’t like that motherfucker. “You’re weeks away from fifteen and I’m days away from thirty. Repeat that fucking statement. In your head. Out loud. I don’t care. Anyway it goes, it’s disgusting and unlawful. You deserve better than me—” And Kaia. “You’re an angel on earth. I am…” He didn’t even know where to begin. The simplest way to describe himself would be an addict. Addicted to sex, drugs, alcohol, money, death, and self-pity. “I’m not for you, Reb.”
“During your lauded Middle Ages, girls married at thirteen and fourteen. Sometimes younger. The heroines of some of our favorite fairy tales are that age.”
“It’s the Crusades—”
“And when did they take place, dickhead? During the High Middle Ages, so don’t try to fucking play me.”
“Ah, the return of the foul mouth.”
She flipped him off, and he glared at her.
