Beyond the Stix (Warrior Black #2)

Chapter 20

TWENTY

Connor

“Connor.” Danny’s loud voice cuts through the music blaring in my ears.

I open my eyes and look around the decimated bedroom. Guilt clashes into me at the destruction I’ve created. The mattress is off the frame. The overhead cabinet doors are ripped off the hinges. Clothes, books, and other items are scattered all over the place.

“Come on, Wildman. Open up.” This time it’s Callum asking.

How can I face them? How do I tell them the truth about Jessup? This whole fucking time I thought I was maybe wrong for assuming the worst about my uncle. But now? It’s even worse than I’d thought. The bastard had, in fact touched me.

Emotionally exhausted is an understatement. If I wasn’t already lying on the floor, I’d drop like a cinder block, and break into a million crumbling pieces.

“John’s gone,” Danny says calmly, like he’s kicking off his shoes and settling in. His announcement doesn’t make me feel an ounce better. In fact, my friend’s reassurance has the opposite effect.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” I straighten up, peering over to the locked door.

“Dante kicked him out,” Callum replies. “They figured since you didn’t want to talk to him, he’s still not welcome back.”

“It’s true, Con. John left twenty minutes ago. What I overheard is that the venue security escorted him out,” Danny whispers through the door.

I want to rant in frustration, while my heart is breaking all over again. Did I want John to leave? Yes. But now—after he practically beat the hell out of Jessup to protect me, the desire to see John is overwhelming. But it’s too late. He’s gone. And I’m a damn idiot for letting him go, for telling him to go.

Why didn’t I believe John? Thinking back to everything he has done; it was all to protect me. Even after I kicked him off the bus—off my security detail, John still was there for me.

“Is he really?” I call out.

“Open the door. You know I hate talking like this,” Danny confesses, with a slight knock.

I get up from the floor, unlock the door and open it. I glance at my two friends, and I want to fucking cry. But I suck back the crazy emotions still spiraling in my chest. “There’s so much to deal with.”

“We know,” Danny and Callum say in unison, before they tug me in for a hug.

Rafe approaches and steps inside the room. “Shit, Connor.”

“I’ll clean it up,” I utter over Danny’s shoulder.

“Hell to the yes, you will. My books.” Rafe bends down and picks up several paperbacks…

“Are those romance novels?” Danny narrows his eyes on the covers. “Gay romances?”

“So fucking what? I don’t patronize you on your over-the-top obsession with gloss slathered across your lips.”

“It’s lip balm—not lip gloss, asshole. Besides, I need to keep my lips soft, in order to sing,” he says haughtily.

“How about we talk about the event tomorrow since it’s already tomorrow?” Callum asks with annoyance. “That is why we are here.”

“What’s going on?” Bobby stumbles in, rubbing at his eyes. “Hey, who tore up the place?”

“Jesus.” Rafe rolls his eyes and continues to pick up his books.

I chuckle. “I love you guys.” And I pull Danny back in for a hug. Callum, Rafe and Bobby clamber forward and wrap their arms around us. “I so needed this.”

After a while, we part and begin cleaning up the room. The light-hearted mood peters out. I know I have to tell my friends the truth about Jessup and what I’ve remembered.

“How do you know he drugged you?” Danny asks, sitting at the end of the bed now that we’ve put the mattress back on the frame. Callum and Bobby climb on and sandwich me. Rafe has dragged in a folding chair from the other room and set it by the closed door, and he’s sitting like some sentinel on watch.

“I remember always feeling sick whenever I had spent time with my uncle. The last time was a camping trip when I was nine.”

“Hey, I remember that! Weren’t we supposed to go with you?” Danny asks with frown.

“That’s right,” Rafe adds. “But we all ended up sick with a cold or something.”

“Yeah, well I came home feeling like shit the next day. And I told my mom, I don’t ever want to go camping again. And I didn’t.” I rub the back of my neck and grimace at the memory.

“So that night you took off and hid in the tree house…” Danny looks through the closed window like he, too, is remembering. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I knew your parents would send me back home,” I admit.

“True.” Danny stands and stretches. “It nearly three in the morning. We all need sleep, if we want to kickass tomorrow.”

“You mean tonight,” Bobby yawns.

“Whatever—yeah, tonight.”

Danny leaves the room, and so do Bobby and Rafe. Callum stays planted next to me where I’m now sitting at the edge of the mattress. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

I look into his clear, but tired hazel eyes. “Truth?”

“Yes,” he says.

“I don’t really know.”

“Are you going to tell your mom?” he asks, straightening up from his slouched posture.

I blow out a heavy breath. “I guess I don’t have a choice. The last thing I want is to keep this from my mother. Knowing her, she’ll eventually find out from another source, and I want her to hear it from me instead.”

“You’re not alone in this, Connor. You have four friends that will be with you. And I know it’s not my place to tell you what to do with your love life, but John’s a good man. You can’t go wrong with him. Just trust that he has your heart and your safety in mind.” Callum smiles tiredly.

“You’re wise beyond your years, Fitz.”

“Tell me that after the concert,” he says and walks out of the room.

I lay there alone for the rest of the night, not able to sleep. My brain keeps mulling over what I need to do to get Jessup out of my life for good. And how am I going to get John back? Even if it’s only to apologize to him.

Callum’s words begin to percolate. Then an image of Dad bounces right into my brain and something loosens in my ribcage.

“Dad.” I turn onto my side, as tears slide out of my eyes. I don’t wipe them away. Each teardrop is for every second I will miss my old man’s presence in my life. I love my mom, but I always had a special bond with my father.

And out of all the things that man had said to me over the years, I recollect the one that seems most pertinent right now—what he used to say when shit got tough.

“Bite the bullet, son. There’s only one way, your way. Bite the bullet, and just do it.”

With those solemn words, I slowly fall into a deep sleep, as a song begins to form, and the poetic lyrics float along in my dreams.

Shattered lives, the damage is done.

Fight or flight, my trust is gone.

Bite the bullet, people would say.

Run and hide, my heart conveys.

No one wins, hope is lost.

Shattered hearts, at my cost.

Fight or flight, broken wings.

Bite the bullet, love can’t sing.

You’re the one, bend to my will.

Passion ignites, let desire spill.

Shattered hearts, you will defend.

Bite the bullet, your love mends.