Page 4 of Ruptured
Diesel read her message again. A few days ago, he’d told Uncle Christopher about Jana and his intentions to marry her. Excitement and enthusiasm for his future had given him a new purpose. He believed he’d finally get his life back on track.
At the moment, divorcing Tabitha and helping Jana struggled underneath the same pool water that almost claimed Rebel’s life. He couldn’t imagine moving Jana in or even marrying her and hurting Rebel further. He cared so much forJana and wanted the best for her. He no longer felt she needed him and his complicated existence.
Uncle Christopher didn’t want him with Rebel, but CJ said if Diesel waited until she was twenty-one and she still wished to marry him, he’d help to save his life. Whether that ever came to pass, Diesel couldn’t predict the future. Hecouldforeshadow Rebel’s reaction to Jana, though.
Another message from Jana came through.
Mom and Dad invited you to dinner at your convenience. Call me when you get a chance. I miss you.
Jana was sober. He always knew when she wasn’t because she either abbreviated her words or misspelled them entirely. He couldn’t bring himself to respond right now. Once he saw Rebel, he’d put things into perspective again. Maybe, he’d even rekindle his excitement about divorcing Tabitha and marrying Jana.
The memory of Mom collapsing and delivering Jo should’ve passed without event. No, it should’ve been a triumphant milestone. Instead, it was another reminder of how thingsturned on a dime and triumph turned to tragedy.
February 23rdmarked three months to the fucking day since CJ thought both his mother and his little sister were dead.
Another little sister.
Because Reb, the little sister he’d grown up loving and protecting, had almost been killed by her bible-thumping twin on the night CJ was experiencing a real club party for the first time. If he’d been enjoying himself, he might’ve found a little comfort that he’d left his mother and sister alone with Rule on the prowl. Dad prioritized CJ’s introduction into the club, rather than sticking close to home as he usually did when Mom didn’t attend.
Before Diesel started prospecting, Dad attended more club functions without Mom, but back then they didn’t have such tension between them. Rule was normal and CJ was Mom’s wingman.
Now, February 24thwas a couple of hours away and CJ hadn’t ventured from his mother’s hospital room. For most of the day, she’d been sedated to help with her pain and to lower her blood pressure. Dad walked the short distance from Rebel’s room every couple of hours to check on Mom and to update CJ. Something about Dad’s behavior niggled at CJ, but he couldn’t dwell on it while he awaited an upturn in his mother’s condition.
Sitting in the chair next to Mom’s bed, listening to the beeps of the machines, praying she opened her eyes, tortured him. He didn’t understand how she’d kept vigil over him when he’d overdosed without losing her mind.
As if he didn’t have enough to torture him, he realized it was a leap year. Molly would turn seventeen on February 29th. Once again, a fuck up interrupted Dad’s search for her. Or her body.
Covering his face, he drew in a deep breath, sick to his stomach, pain and fear shuddering through him.
“CJ?”
At the sound of Uncle Mort’s voice, CJ lifted his head from his hands and dropped his elbows from his knees. Tears stung his eyes, though they didn’t fall.
Sniffling, he gritted his teeth, ashamed of his moment of weakness. “She’s still sleeping, Uncle Mort.” Emotion hoarsened his words.
Mort held up an overnight bag. “Brought you some change of clothes,” he said, walking to the window seat and setting the bag down before coming to CJ’s side and laying his hand against his shoulder. “She resting, kid. Meggie girl strong. Let her heal.”
“I shouldn’t have gone to Nyx’s initiation.”
Uncle Mort gave a comforting squeeze of CJ’s shoulder, then dropped his hand. “I won’t sugarcoat shit and say you could’ve prevented what Rule did because we both know it probablywouldn’thave happened—”
“Exactly, Uncle Mort,” CJ said bitterly, jumping to his feet and facing his uncle. “That’s exactly what I’m saying—”
“The point not that,” Uncle Mort interrupted. “And it’s not you blaming yourself. My point is shit happened exactly the way it was supposed to.”
The pit in CJ’s gut hollowed out his heart and left him on the verge of falling apart. “They could’ve died—”
“But they didn’t.” Uncle Mort clutched CJ’s biceps, forcing him to stand firm. “This what Rule needs to get help—”
“No, fuck that motherfucker. He tried to kill Mom and Reb. Fuck him. I’d just as soon bury him than comfort him or excuse his behavior.”
“He still your brother and he still your momma son, kid.”
The video he’d seen repeatedly replayed in his head. Rule’s sneak attack on their sister. The way Mom fought to save herself and Rebel. Axel running in with his slingshot just when it seemed as if Mom was doomed.
CJ shook his head. “Fuck him,” he repeated. “He almost took Mom and Reb away.” He pulled away from Uncle Mort’s hold. “As a matter of fact, where is he?” He’d put him out of his fucking misery.
“He was released a couple of hours ago,” Uncle Mort said. “Father Wilkins took him.”
