Carter Kids: Thorn Part 5

As soon as the door was closed behind me, I threw myself down on my bed and cried like a baby.

LATER ON, WHEN MR. CARTER had left for his flight, Hope came into my room.

"I'm not going to ask you if you're okay," she told me, coming to sit on the edge of my bed. "Because that's a stupid question when it's obvious that you're not." Stroking my head, Hope sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry about my dad, Teegs."

Leaping off my bed, I began to pace. I couldn't sit still and take her pity. I couldn't f.u.c.king sit on this pain. Swinging around to face Hope, I begged, "Please tell me I did the right thing."

I closed my eyes and fought back the voice inside of me telling me that I had been wrong about him. I never wanted to break away from my life more than I did in this moment.

Was it pity making me feel like I was wrong?

Wrong for jumping to conclusions without hearing him out?

Was I a huge fool for even contemplating that my eyes had deceived me?

I was so confused.

"Tell me I didn't misjudge the situation," I blurted out, unable to handle the emotions churning inside of me. "Please, Hope, tell me your dad is wrong."

"I don't know, Teagan," she groaned. Climbing to her feet, she walked over to my bedroom window and looked out through the curtains. "I want to believe you misjudged him," she told me after a long pause. "My heart is telling me you did..."

"But?" I offered, sensing there was a very big but to come.

"It's just too shady," she admitted. Swinging around to face me, Hope scrunched her nose up. "You saw him and Reese with your own two eyes, and it's not like they haven't been together many times before."

"Exactly," I exclaimed wearily. "I saw them. I didn't make it up." Even though I wished I had.

Hope sighed. "Look, I've known Jordan my entire life," she told me. "And if he could do what he did to me, butcher my heart and betray me, then I'm sorry, Teagan, but I'm not holding out much hope the rest of the male population."

"Yeah," I whispered, taking in her words, feeling my heart break all over again. "Neither am I."

LIGHTS OUT HAD BEEN HOURS AGO, and I had been lying in the darkness ever since, listening to the noise coming from the cells on either side of ours. The a.s.sholes on our left were arguing over a missing pack of cigarettes. The ones on our right were fighting because they could; because there was nothing else to do in this place.

I remained perfectly still on my bunk, quiet as a mouse, as I racked my brain and tried to come up with a plan that wouldn't get me killed in this place. I'd been challenged to a fight this morning. I refused.

Now, I was biding my time, trying to figure out how the f.u.c.k I wouldn't have to use my fists in this place. I was surrounded by a.s.sholes, many of which knew my background as a street fighter. That made them curious. It made them want to take me down a peg or two. I wasn't afraid of any d.i.c.k in this place, but I didn't want the trouble. I was f.u.c.king weary.

"What was she like, Messina?" Lucky asked, breaking the eerie silence, and the question threw me. I had thought the guy was asleep.

Rolling onto my back, I folded my arms behind my head and stared up at the metal bars above my head. "Who?"

"Your girl." I heard him twisting around on the bunk above me. "You never told me her name." The sound of a match striking filled the silence followed by the aroma of nicotine wafting through the air.

"Teagan," I whispered, feeling the burn in my chest that came with saying her name aloud. "And she was...different." Teagan was the only one who had ever known me like really known me. She had gone to the trouble of digging deeper, finding the screw-up inside of me, and loving me anyway. That wasn't normal. She wasn't normal. "She was a pain in my a.s.s," I added with a smirk, thinking back to the numerous times Thorn had caused me nothing but trouble.

"She love you?"

"Not enough."

"You still love her?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," I hissed through clenched teeth. h.e.l.l f.u.c.king yes I still loved her, but I wasn't the type of guy who talked openly about my feelings. Christ, before Thorn, I wouldn't have thought I had feelings to talk about. "It's in the past."

"It's the only thing that matters," he corrected. "And the past is never in the past. It's always waiting in the wings, ready to swoop in and f.u.c.k up the present," he muttered and after a pause added, "I'd bet my last cigarette she's the reason you're in this wonderful establishment."

"It's not her fault," I shot back defensively, tensing up. "I was a f.u.c.k up long before I met her." Shaking my head, I let out a sigh and asked, "Why are you bringing this s.h.i.+t up, man?"

"Because when I look at you, it's like I'm looking at the eighteen-year-old version of myself."

Even though I was p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l at him for bringing up my business, I didn't dare open my mouth and say so. Lucky was as closed off as I was. It wasn't an everyday occurrence that the guy spoke about himself, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.

The bunk s.h.i.+fted and squeaked in protest as he climbed down. "I'm gonna tell you a little story, Messina," he announced, "from one lovesick fool to another."

The moonlight flooding in from the tiny bar covered window in our cell illuminated his profile and I watched as he walked over to our small desk, and hoisted himself on top of it before taking a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaling heavily. "I fell for this chick from my hometown," he began to explain. "Fell real f.u.c.king hard. Her daddy was a cop, one of the good guys. s.h.i.+t, back then, I was one of the good guys," he chuckled, flicking the ash from his cigarette before taking another drag. "We'd dated all through high school and I was in deep, Messina. Real f.u.c.king deep..." His eyes glazed over and his voice trailed off.

Exhaling heavily, I sat up and grabbed my cigarettes from under my pillow. "You don't have to tell me s.h.i.+t, Lucky," I told him as I sparked up. "It's cool, man. I understand."

"The night I was arrested, I had the ring in my jeans pocket," he told me in a quiet tone, ignoring my words. "Was on my way to pick her up at her dorm Hayley was a freshman at the time..." His voice broke off then, it was the first time I had ever heard him quiver, and when he spoke again, I felt like I had been sucker punched in the chest.

"When I let myself into her room all I could hear was the sound of her crying weakly...begging for mercy and calling my name. Her blood," he whispered. "It was everywhere. Smeared all over the sheets. The walls. The f.u.c.king carpet. Her clothes had been ripped from her body... by the b.a.s.t.a.r.d standing over her zipping up his pants."

"Jesus Christ," I choked out, not knowing what to say.

"I killed a man that night, Messina. With my own bare hands," he growled. "And in doing so, I wasted the last moments I would ever have with her."

"She died?"

"He f.u.c.king butchered her," he confirmed coldly. "And I butchered him while my girl was taking her last breath in this world."

"Lucky," I whispered. "I'm so d.a.m.n sorry."

"I got eleven years," he said after a moment. "Would've been a h.e.l.luva a lot more but her father had pull and I was convicted of manslaughter instead. And I've been here ever since. Existing."

Rubbing a hand down my face, I struggled to take it all in. "Why did you tell me all of that, man?"

Dropping his cigarette b.u.t.t in the sink, he jumped down from the desk and stretched his arms over his head. "Because my girl's dead, Messina, and I aint ever getting her back. But it's not over for you," he told me pa.s.sionately. "Look, I've got another six years in this place so it looks like we'll be seeing this out together. It would be nice to have an ally."

"You want me as an ally?" I asked, watching his climb back up on his bunk.

"I've got a good feeling about you, Noah Messina," he chuckled. "Now shut the f.u.c.k up and get some sleep."

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

Instead, my mind went through Lucky's admission over and over until the sun rose and the lights were turned back on.

It's not over for you, he had told me, and Christ, I wanted to believe him.

More than anything.

THIS PLACE WAS A LIVING, BREATHING h.e.l.l.

Even now, twelve months later, I hadn't gotten used to my surroundings; if I was being honest, I didn't think I ever would. Time crawled by. I had too much time to think to f.u.c.king torture myself with what ifs. Like what if I had gotten on that plane with Teagan and never went to the quarry? We'd be in Ireland now, and I would be lying beside her and not four concrete walls.

All I had was myself.

All I could work on was my body.

Growing it.

Strengthening it.

Preparing for the trouble that I knew was lurking behind every d.a.m.n corner.

I wasn't a virgin to bloodshed, but I'd lost count of the number of times I had a rib busted in this place. f.u.c.king vultures were the reason I kept a blade in my toothbrush.

But I was running out of time.

I followed the line of inmates as the guards rounded us up and led us into the visiting room like a G.o.dd.a.m.n herd of cattle. I watched, emotionless, as the guys in front of me filed into the visiting room, claiming tables that were filled with people who loved them.

I didn't have any family waiting on me in here. I didn't have a disappointed father, or a heartbroken mother to look forward to seeing every Thursday afternoon. I didn't have a h.o.r.n.y wife, saddled down with half a dozen of my kids.

I scanned the room for the one person I could stand the sight of these days, and when I found him sitting alone in the far corner of the room, I went straight for him.

"Anything?" I asked the minute I sat down; my hands twitching on the table in front of me and my knees bopping restlessly underneath.

Tommy Moyet stared at me for a long time before letting out a heavy sigh. "Sorry, man," he mumbled. "I've sent over fifty emails, but Hope isn't responding."

I let my head drop forward, my chin almost touching my chest, as I struggled to reign in my raging emotions. The visiting room was packed full of f.u.c.kers who didn't need to see me break down. Dammit to h.e.l.l, one weak moment in this place could cost me my life.

"Tommy, I need you to do something for me," I said in a hushed tone, hating what I was about to ask my only friend to do.

"Anything, man, you know that," he replied without hesitation.

Leaning forward, I kept my voice low enough so that Tommy was the only one who could hear me and not the b.a.s.t.a.r.d at the next table. "I need you to get a message to Low."

Tommy frowned. "Okay...but can't you just phone him?"

I shook my head. "There are too many eyes and ears in this place," I muttered. "It's not safe."

His blue eyes widened in fear. "What do you want me to tell him?"

I leaned forward and kept my face down when I spoke, so our conversation wasn't lip-read. "Tell him Angelo Javi was transferred to my block last week and he knows who I am what I did to his brother."

I knew I could count on Lucky to have my back, and if I told him about Javi and his gang, he would back me up without a second's hesitation, but I wasn't involving him in my bulls.h.i.+t.

No f.u.c.king way.

Shoving my chair back, I stood up and stared down at my best friend for what could be the last time. "Tell him I need him to call Teagan and tell her I love her and I'm sorry. And tell him... tell him I'm a dead man."

"Noah!" Tommy called out as I walked away from him, but I didn't turn around.

I couldn't.

Angelo Javi had pull in this place, and I was a sitting duck.

I needed to get back to my cell before visiting time was over and I was cornered in a f.u.c.king corridor with those guys.

I needed a f.u.c.king miracle.

I FELT LIKE A TOTAL CREEPER as I opened the lid of Hope's laptop and scrolled through her emails from her family members desperate for news. Today was one of the rare days she had left her laptop at home instead of taking it to University with her.

h.e.l.l, today was one of the rare occasions Hope actually left the apartment.

Most days she remained holed up in her bedroom.

Her reasons for avoiding the real world was always the same old excuses; she was either working on a story she was writing, or she was tired. But I knew better.

Hope wasn't dealing with her breakup with Jordan.

One year on, and she was more withdrawn than ever and avoided contact with everyone. In the beginning, when we first came to Ireland, Hope had been my rock to lean on. But now, the only time she went out was when she had a cla.s.s.

She hadn't made any new friends at school, and the friends I had made in my Sports, Fitness and Nutrition cla.s.s at the local PLC had to drag conversation out of her when we all hung out.

Even Liam, who moved down to Cork last September to study SF&N with me, couldn't bring her around. She remained standoffish, uninterested in spending time with anyone other than her imaginary characters and her memories of Jordan.

I scrolled through her inbox and trash until I found an unread email from Tommy Moyet, of all people, in her junk folder.

Bingo.

Clicking the email, I braced myself for what I was about to read.

To: Hope Carter Subject: h.e.l.lO!!!

From: Tommy Moyet I know you're probably tired of me blowing up your inbox, Hope, but I'm getting pretty sick of sending unanswered mails. Oh don't worry though, this is the last time you'll hear from me. Forget everything I've said. Doesn't matter now. Have a nice life.

"What are you up to?" a familiar voice called out and I yelped in surprise and ended up knocking a stack of papers off Hope's desk as I scrambled to exit the Internet.

"Liam." I hissed when words found me again. I glared at my former flame as he stood in the doorway of Hope's bedroom, dangling a set of keys in his hand. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"What are you doing?" he asked, grinning. "Snooping around in your roommate's stuff?"

Closing the lid on Hope's laptop, I grabbed the papers off the ground and set them back where they had been before stalking out with Liam in tow. "You never saw me in here."

I made my way into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. "What are you doing here?" I checked my watch. "We don't have to leave for work for at least another hour."

Liam and I had both scored a few s.h.i.+fts each weekend at his cousin's gym across town. The pay was worse than bad, but it was good work experience for us. Besides, I made good money from the part time job I had managed to snag at Griffin's Coffee Dock on the Grand Parade last summer. The owners, John and Andrea, were lovely to work for, but the best part was the place was only a ten-minute walk from our apartment.

"I thought we could grab a bite to eat beforehand," Liam announced, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets.