Far from Done: Far Series Book Six, page 5
Jace shoved his hand through his blond hair and paced, agitated. Pissed, but mostly at himself. I was more than familiar with his moods by this point.
“I think you lashed out. But at who?” I shifted, stretching my right leg so I could snub the cigarette out with the toe of my boot.
“Lexi,” he growled. “Because I’m an asshole and a prick and because I knew it would affect Devon more than anything I could say to him.”
Shit. This was bad.
I knew something like this might happen one of these days. I’d stuck my neck out for Jace with our group over and over again. Had told them he wasn’t all bad. Had done everything I could to convince them to give him a chance. There’d been progress, too. Not a lot, but enough that no one argued with me—much—when I invited him over. Now this.
“You know there’s probably no coming back from this with them, right?”
He stopped pacing and turned to face me. “And what else was I supposed to fucking do, Kiaya? They were eavesdropping. Listening in on my private conversation like they thought it would help them unravel me. Well, no one gets to fucking unravel me unless I say so. No one!”
The last two words boomed through the air, bouncing off the nearby houses and coming back to taunt us. Jace was really worked up. He didn’t get angry often, or at least he didn’t show it. In fact, I’d only seen him mad like this one other time, and that had been the day he pulled a gun on us in the square.
I stood, slowly and hesitantly, but not because I was worried he’d hurt me. Because I was scared of him shutting down. Of him putting up a wall I might never be able to scale.
“I’m sorry. I understand why you’re upset. They shouldn’t have done that.”
He averted his gaze, some of his anger giving way until I could see the scared, vulnerable boy only I knew.
“But Jace,” I went on, “Lexi’s just a child, and believe it or not, she’s been hurt by this world just as much as you have.”
He turned narrowed eyes on me. “Really, Kiaya? You’re going to say that to me?”
I lifted my hands. “I’m only speaking the truth. You know that about me, Jace.”
He continued to glare but didn’t argue.
We’d discussed this, how someone else’s pain might not seem as bad as yours, but how it was still pain. It was the root of Jace’s problem. He thought just because the people around him didn’t understand what it was like to have parents who loathed you, who abused and neglected you, that meant they had never suffered. As if the lack of abuse somehow made their lives perfect. It was hard for him to understand it wasn’t true. Hard for him to accept that everyone hurt. That everyone deserved sympathy, not just the most damaged people.
“Jace,” I said, choosing my words carefully, hoping to get through to him, “you know how bad it is to take your anger out on someone totally innocent. You’ve experienced that firsthand.”
His rage melted away, his expression turning downcast, his shoulder slumping. “I know. I said I fucked up, okay? I own it.” His gaze flicked to mine. “Will they get over it?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll try. You have to apologize to Lexi, though.”
He shook his head, but it didn’t mean no. “As if they’d let me get close to her.”
“I’ll talk to them, okay?” I put a hand on his shoulder. “I promise. For now, you should go home.”
He blew out a long, exhausted sounding breath. “I am sorry, you know?”
“I know,” I said, then tilted my head and gave him a small smile. “I’ll save you some bread. Give it to you tomorrow.”
His head bobbed as he turned. “Okay. Thanks, Kiaya.”
“Goodnight, Jace,” I said, the words barely a whisper.
I watched him cross the street, watched him climb the steps and open the front door, then finally disappear inside. Only once he was gone did I climb the porch to my own house.
I was tired, drained, and not looking forward to the conversation I was about to have. No one got why I stood up for Jace, and Doug was growing impatient. He put up with it for me. But unless I could get Jace to tear down more of his walls, Doug wouldn’t put up with it for much longer. Not that I blamed him. No one had seen the broken and bruised boy I was familiar with. Jace wouldn’t let them. He made nasty comments to me when others were around to prevent anyone from looking too closely at him, but he wasn’t like that when it was just the two of us. When it was just Jace and me, he spoke very little. He was introspective and quiet, someone who liked to read and enjoyed poetry. He drew, too, and had shown me some of his pictures. Most were images of horror. Rotting corpses on a lone road, nothing around them for miles. Others, though, were almost sweet. Elizabeth sleeping, her eyes closed, her eyelashes drawn in perfect detail and her pursed lips a mirror image of what they looked like for real.
I wished more people could see that side of Jace.
I braced myself when I reached the door, my hand on the knob as I straightened my shoulders. Then I turned it and stepped inside.
The house was warm, the air rich with the aroma of smoked meat and fire, with just a hint of baby powder. The soft glow from the fireplace seeped into the hall from the living room, illuminating it enough that lanterns or candles weren’t necessary, adding to the homey feel.
Ever since I could remember, I’d wanted a real home. A place where I felt not just welcome, but comfortable as well. I’d never had that. Not when my sister and I were living with our mom—who’d been a druggie and could barely remember she had two kids, let alone that they needed to be fed and the bills needed to be paid—and not in the many foster homes I’d been sent to. Now, though, I did, and it was strange. Strange to think that in the midst of all the horror and chaos, I’d found a place I belonged. Because I did. Here in this house with people I hadn’t even known a year and a half ago, I had a home and a family. I had love.
Not that the house felt very welcoming or homey right now. It was too quiet, and even if I hadn’t bumped into Jace, I would have known something was wrong. Usually, there was noise. Talking or laughter, Elizabeth crying or cooing or making other baby sounds. Now, tension crackled through the air.
I kicked off my shoes and undid my coat, turning to hang it on the hooks with the others just as Doug stepped into the hall. His face was cloaked in shadows, but I didn’t need to see his expression to know he was unhappy. I could read it in his body language, in the stiff way he walked toward me, in his lack of a smile, and in the way he crossed his arms when he stopped in front of me. He was a big guy—broad shoulders and bulging muscles—but he looked doubly wide when he stood like this.
“Is he finally gone?”
“He is,” I said, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.
“Good.”
Doug paused, and had it been anyone else standing in front of me, I would have thought he was considering what to say. I knew better, though. He’d decided what he was going to say long before I got home.
“He’s not coming back here, Kiaya. Ever. He’s not welcome. It’s decided.”
“You’ve decided?” I said, tilting my head.
“We’ve decided.” Doug waved behind him, toward the kitchen. “If you’d heard what he said—”
“I know what he said,” I broke in. “I also know you were eavesdropping.”
Doug’s mouth fell open.
Before he could respond, I lifted my hand. “I get that it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you, but it is to Jace. He doesn’t open up to many people because he doesn’t trust them, and someone sneaking into his private thoughts like that only reinforces the concept that he can’t trust anyone. He lashed out, but he knows he was wrong. He’s sorry.”
Doug snorted, and even in the limited light, I could see his eyes roll. “I don’t believe him, but more importantly, I don’t give a fuck. Not after what he said to Lexi. She’s been through enough, and she shouldn’t have to be the punching bag for some piece of shit kid who doesn’t deserve the air he breathes, let alone your friendship and understanding.” He blew out a breath and ran his hand down his face. “Seriously, Kiaya, I don’t get it. None of us do. That kid is an asshole through and through, but you refuse to see it.”
“I know him,” I shot back, losing my temper with Doug for the first time since we started dating. “I know him in a way you never will. Never could. And I just don’t understand him, I relate to him.”
“How could you possibly relate to that psychopath?”
I ground my teeth, the words a bubble in my throat, rising as if floating to the surface of a pond, fighting to break free. Doug knew about my past, I’d told him all of that, but I’d never explained how affected me to my very core. How it had changed me, made it difficult—sometimes impossible—to open up and trust people. No, I hadn’t become a cynical asshole like Jace, but I easily could have if things had been worse. If my parents had used me as an ashtray, if they’d locked me in a closet when I was bad, if they’d laughed when I’d cried and told me I was worthless. Neglect had been bad enough. It had ripped me to shreds on the inside, had twisted me until I could never fully heal. But what Jace had been through… That was a different story entirely.
“What?” Doug said, not bothering to hide his frustration. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I blew out a long breath, hoping to rein in my emotions. They felt on the verge of exploding out of me, and I couldn’t let that happen. As much as I’d grown since this whole thing started, as much as I’d learned that some people could be trusted, that some people could love me, there were still things I hadn’t shared with anyone. This was one of them, and even though I hated to admit it, I was terrified of what would happen if I let it out. I didn’t want to let Doug know how broken I was inside, because if he found out I was basically a shell of a person, there was no way he’d stay with me.
“Jace is different than you think,” I finally said.
Doug shook his head, irritation and anger radiating off him like heat from a fire. “You can’t do it, can you? You can’t be honest with me no matter what happens. I know there’s more to it. I know you wouldn’t put up with that pile of human garbage without a reason, but you refuse to tell me why. Which makes me wonder if I actually know you at all. Do I, Kiaya? Do I know you?”
“You do.” I reached for him, but he took a step back, lifting his hand as a warning that I should keep my distance. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut me out at every turn and expect me to just take it. That’s not what a relationship is.”
“I’m not shutting you out,” I argued.
“You are.”
Again, he shook his head, only this time he was walking. Toward me, then past me. His brown eyes focused on the door like the very idea of looking me disgusted him. He ripped it open and yanked his coat from the hook at the same time. Two others fell to the ground in the process, but Doug acted as if he didn’t notice. Then he was stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind him, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.
4
Doug
The icy air felt good against my hot face as I charged down the street, and I rolled my bad shoulder, barely even noticing I’d done it. I didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t care, either. I just had to get away.
This had been going on for too long. I’d put up with too much. I knew that now. I should have pushed Kiaya to open up months ago, just like I should have put my foot down about that asshole Jace. Every time that kid was around, I had to fight the urge to slam my fist into his cocky mouth. The things he said to her, the way he looked at her, the way he grinned at me when he did it—it was all too much.
I’d put up with it, though. Just like I always did. I’d done the same thing when I was dating Rowan, tagging along with her and her friends like I enjoyed shopping or chick flicks, never asserting myself or having an opinion. Then Jessie had come along, and I’d let her walk all over me too. In high school when we went to Florida for spring break with her friends. When she made all our prom plans, only telling me once they’d been finalized like I was an afterthought. Then when we’d gone to college two hours apart, I was the one who’d always driven to see her, not the other way around.
I’d thought it was all normal. Thought that was how I was supposed to act, and I knew why. My dad. Growing up, I couldn’t remember a single time he’d put my mom first. Everything was about him. What he wanted, what he needed. She’d gone along with it, and it was possible it had never bothered her, but it had always bothered me. Which was why I’d worked hard to break that cycle when I started dating. Only, I now realized I’d gone too far in the opposite direction. It had ruined my relationship with Jessie, who’d told me I had no personality when we broke up, and now it had fucked with Kiaya and me.
I was a moron.
Before I realized where I was heading, I found myself opening the door to Submarine House. It was just a bar now—they’d tried serving food for a while after reopening but hadn’t been able to work out the logistics—which wasn’t a big deal since they had the best selection of alcohol in Elizabethtown. It was open from noon until one in the morning and packed the entire time, so I wasn’t at all surprised to slip inside and find the place slammed.
I pushed my way through the crowd, nodding to the people I knew. Which was most of them. Even before the virus, Submarine House had had its regulars. No matter the day of the week or the time of day, the bar was filled and more often than not, and the bartenders knew the names of ninety percent of the people sitting there. Jessie’s parents had been among that group—at least until her dad ran off with his secretary—and my own parents had come nearly once a week. It had given the place more of a family feel. Walking in and having the people who worked there greet you like you were an old friend, bringing your drinks before you even had to order them. I hadn’t been old enough to sit at the bar yet, but even my friends and I had liked stopping by for a pizza or sub.
I reached the bar to find a seat at the very end and slid onto the stool. Erin, who had worked here even before things went to shit, was behind the bar. She was in the middle of taking an order from a guy I didn’t recognize, but nodded when she saw me, letting me know she’d be over in a second.
I drummed my fingers against the counter as I waited, trying to calm down. In my current state of mind, this would have been the last place I’d come if I hadn’t been sure Jace was home. He worked mornings, mopping up the mess from the night before, rinsing the empty bottles so they could be refilled—they’d started brewing their own beer the summer before—and taking the trash out to be burned. Even during the apocalypse, the place was off limits for a sixteen-year-old kid in the evening when the drinking got heavy.
I watched as Erin set a couple drinks in front of the customer she was waiting on, who immediately passed her a handful of gold. A couple rings glinted under the lights, as well as a thick necklace. It was a lot of bling for two drinks, but it wasn’t unusual these days. People who had it liked to flaunt it in others’ faces. Like it was a status symbol on par with a Mercedes or BMW from before the apocalypse.
Gold had shown up as currency months ago, starting a little at a time then gradually becoming more and more accepted. Coins had also made a resurgence, and between the two, the exchange rates were erratic, uneven, and wildly unpredictable. Just yesterday, I’d seen someone trying to sell a twelve pack of toilet paper they’d somehow gotten hold of for six quarters or a diamond ring. That was how all over the place things had gotten.
In the end, the seller got the diamond ring.
The thing was, not many people had thought to grab pocket change after the dead came back and they were out scavenging for supplies. Jewelry, though, was simple to come by. All you had to do was go outside the walls and find one of the bodies stumbling down the road—or one frozen solid during the winter months—stab it in the brain and remove any jewelry the corpse might be wearing. Most of them had some. Earrings, rings, bracelets, and necklaces. The dead were literally goldmines.
The new currency had made a few survivors wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. Those who’d been smart—or lucky—enough to raid jewelry stores were living large, throwing diamond rings and necklaces around like it was nothing, trading for all the booze and food they wanted. Sometimes getting way more than they needed then reselling it for twice the price. It had gotten so out of hand that Peters had even started talking about creating our own currency, although I wasn’t sure how he’d go about doing it. It seemed like too big of a venture even for him and a waste of time to boot.
Erin stopped in front of me, her dark eyes darting about the room like she was keeping an eye out for a fight. “What can I get you?”
“A beer.”
She hurried off without a word.
I felt like I was an actor every time I ordered a beer, because before the virus, only in a movie or television show would anyone have placed such a generic order. Now, though, our options were limited and being picky wasn’t usually an option.
At the other end of the bar, the stranger who’d paid way too much for a couple drinks was laughing with another man, the two of them louder than everyone else put together. They were well on their way to being drunk, waving gold necklaces in the air as they tried to flag Erin down. She paused beside them, said something I couldn’t hear from where I sat, and jerked her head toward me before moving, leaving the two men to continue their rowdy conversation.
They weren’t the only strangers in the place. People came into the settlement to trade on a daily basis, often staying to grab a drink or something to eat. It was odd, however, to see someone flashing their gold around so brazenly. They might as well put in a formal request to be robbed.
The top already popped off, Erin set the beer in front of me. “On your tab?”
“Yeah, please.” I lifted the bottle to my lips so I could take a swig, nodding to the other end of the bar as I did. “What’s up with those guys? I’ve never seen them before.”
