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  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 24
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 24

FALL 2005
She’s on a fucking date.
Beer in hand, I stare into the bonfire feet away from me, doing my best to try to contain the inferno roaring inside as I consider my own date. Red cup in her own hand, Amy unknowingly chats amongst our group of made birds and the newer recruits present at our latest meetup.
Let her go, Jennings.
Sensing the weight of my stare, Amy turns and beams at me. I give her a wink of acknowledgment in return before scanning those crowded around the fire. But instead of seeing the group as they are in reality—drinking, laughing, smoking, and chatting enthusiastically—I see their individual positions on the board. All a part of the army I’m slowly cultivating.
Russell is a prime candidate for second-in-command, forever ready to step up when summoned. Daily, he makes it his mission to pay careful attention to every detail of the goings-on of the club. Jeremy, though naturally a clown, is a cunning one. Good at disarming people to get close enough for recon and any smoke-and-mirror theft if we’re put in a tight spot. Between his criminal mind and Dom’s, we’ll never run out of creative heists.
Over the next few years, I have gaps and positions that need filling, and thanks to Delphine, I can see each so clearly. Ignoring the beer in my hand as I have all night, my mental plotting takes front and center, my eyes landing next on Layla, now heavily in on the secret.
Ironically, after my suggestion that Layla become a bird, she was brought organically into the fold by a recruit, Craig. A recruit she’s currently delaying my introduction to as they maul each other in a camping chair a few feet away. After a few conversations with Tobias, Layla’s suggested plans of her part to play will prove her worth. With close ties to damned near everyone in this town—and after opening her salon—she’ll not only be helpful in adding to our revenue stream but also become our resident spy. Utilizing her salon chair to keep up with the gossip and goings-on of everyone in Triple Falls. Over time, if she proves herself, she will be our first lady bird.
The rest of the small but growing crowd of faces I picture so easily in my lineup. Mentally positioning them based on their strengths and weaknesses—the way my heartless general taught me. A general whose lighthearted greeting earlier tonight leveled me as she breezed into the living room dressed to kill in a long-sleeved sweaterdress, knee-high boots, onyx hair down and tousled. Her lush lips painted wine red. The sight of her dressed like that—and for another man—snatched my beating heart right out of my goddamned chest.
She might be on a date . . . but so are you.
Full of resentment and white-hot jealousy, I picked up Amy just after, determined to live within the parameters Delphine set with girls my own age. An attempt to press through the heartache I’ve been battling for too many fucking months and move on, trying to date a girl I might get somewhere with. Because, of course, girls my own age are interested in drawing parallels between Star Wars and our current society. Talking for hours about battles of the past and the private lives and actions of historical figures to determine tactics in psychological warfare. Oh, and love to fish and hunt.
While I’m certain there’s a runner-up somewhere that might eventually fit the bill, I don’t want any part of her.
That much became evident when I gave Amy a little something to remember me by earlier tonight before choking when the time came to fit the condom that was burning a hole in my pocket. Even as she begged for it, and even while I was on fucking fire for some touch.
But for her. Always for her.
Just after Delphine breezed in all smiles, our eyes met and held right before hers dropped, granting me access to feast. The image of her now ingrained, and tap dancing along my psyche, while keeping my heart raw.
That fucking dress hugged her every curve.
Focusing back on the girl who deserves it, I consider making good on it. To kick the stronghold in my head and chest, but it’s that stronghold that tells me it’s not happening tonight or ever.
You’re in love with her.
In a desperate search for a silver lining, I catch the fresh gleam of my truck parked feet away. I’d picked up my denial date right after the tape was pulled off the immaculate paint job, deciding to debut my lime green antique pickup with a blacktop at our meetup. Lately, I’ve found a lot of satisfaction in working on cars, taking things apart, and figuring out their inner workings before making them whole again. The irony not lost on me that I wish it were as easy in life—for people. Though people aren’t fixable, their mistakes can be camouflaged.
It’s my newly discovered niche.
Another lining is that since our blowout this summer, Sean has stepped up in a major way, using his former schmoozing skills for his hookups to start networking. The board is getting closer to where I need it to be for my departure into the Corps. But even with the table set, it’s my fucking heart that keeps me continually running past my recruiter’s office. At this point, I’m only a signature away from being sent to march. For months, I’ve been holding out hope but unable to take a fucking step in any direction personally.
Just leave, Jennings. She won’t even notice.
That sting lingers as Amy sidles up to me, and I turn to her, unable to escape the grim ache leaching into me tonight. “Hey, you mind if we get out of here?”
“Sure.” She gives me an easy nod as I turn to signal Dom, who gives me a chin lift, the mischievous glint in his silver-gray eyes filled with the assumption I’m about to have a good night. I’m fucking not. The never-ending longing in my chest is telling me as much and only fueling my frustration.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m met with Amy’s frown as I palm the back of her head, giving her a slow kiss of apology. An attempt to find some spark.
“I didn’t think you were taking me home,” she says, slightly dazed as I pull away, my decision solidified.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “As cliché as it sounds, it’s not you and a thousand percent me. My mind isn’t here tonight, and you deserve better.”
“Tyler, I want to give you what you want. You know I’m into you,” she admits as the guilt settles in.
“I’m an asshole,” I admit. “I’m just not there right now. Head and heart. I’m sorry.”
“So, it’s over?” she asks in a shaky tone.
“I don’t want to lead you on,” I tell her. “Is that okay?”
“Guess it has to be,” she sighs. “You’re into someone else?”
I nod and give her sincerity. “I really am sorry. I feel like shit.”
“I believe you are,” she finally says after a long beat. “You were a surprise”—she winks—“a good one.” She presses her forehead to mine, eyes watering. “Thanks for not being like the others.”
She gets out of the truck, shooting me a smile through the passenger glass as I do the same. Neither one of us feeling it. Too restless to go home, I familiarize myself with the town I grew up in, knowing it might come in handy someday. Where most see roads now, I see Delphine’s mental mapping techniques. Where most meet people and greet others with a handshake, I find myself taking in their details, gestures, word choice, and movements. Delphine’s opened my mind to everything, including the feeling I can’t shake.
You’re in love with her, and that can’t be camouflaged.
That truth rings clear in my mind and heart, plaguing me as my cell phone rattles in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see Dom’s texted me a location. Confused but in need of distraction, I navigate to the address, which ends in an alleyway off Main, and catch movement. Headlights beaming on the darkened alley, I pull to a stop when I see two familiar heads pop above a patched quilt where they’re huddled next to a large dumpster.
Exiting my truck, I call out to them. “Charlie? Tweety? What in the hell are you two doing out here?”
“Dammit, Dom,” I hear Charlie grumble as I approach. “I knew he wouldn’t let it go. Don’t tell him,” she snaps. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“But it’s Big Bird,” Jane counters.
“I know who the hell it is.”
“You should, Charlie,” I interject, now standing directly in front of them, “because I licked your tonsils dry trying to learn how to French kiss.” A short pause ensues before they slowly pull the blanket down, Jane grinning as Charlie gives me the evil eye.
“That’s why I dumped you,” Charlie delivers with ease before she deadpans.
I palm my chest and grimace. “Oof. Such a heart-breaker.”
“Though . . .” She rolls her eyes down my frame. “I have to admit you’re looking better now,” Charlie spouts. “You’ve grown into your big-ass ears.”
“Shots fired,” I drawl, “and eat your heart out.”
“And you can eat a dick.” She beams at me with her delivery. “But the dimple is hot.”
It’s then I notice the bags stacked next to them, and my heart stutters at the sight.
“All right,” I say, my protective streak taking over as I cross my arms. “Time to come clean. What the hell is going on?”
Jane’s blue eyes water as Charlie maintains her notoriously stiff upper lip—though her expression is fear-filled. Jane ditches the quilt and steps up to me as I ask the obvious.
“You ran away?” I ask, and Tweety nods. It’s no surprise, seeing as their parents are neglectful addicts.
Though we met years ago—barely out of diapers and daycare—we’ve gathered on many nights since, sharing food while commiserating. A sort of streetside potluck of misfits who didn’t really have dinner to go home to or, like me, didn’t want to be at the table—the reason Dom’s constantly raiding the cabinets. Even though his bank account amount is gradually increasing, he still passes through often, especially because Charlie and Jane are his favorites and the reason for his text.
“We can’t do it anymore, Tyler.” Jane’s eyes spill over. “They were going to pawn us off on some relative again to go on a bender. We just want to wait it out until she turns eighteen in a few months.” She nods toward Charlie.
Racking my brain, I think of our garage and know that’s no place for them to stay temporarily. My house is no place for guests for the moment, either, what with Dad’s hellish mission to stay sober. At this point, Carter’s home is the place where I bathe and sleep while practicing living in the shadows. Just after I dismiss those options, an idea comes to me, one I assume is why Dom texted, and I stalk over to Charlie, who now has tears in her own eyes.
“Charlie, you know damned well that you can trust me.” Both Charlie and Jane are in the know about our club but opted out. Neither wanting to live an unpredictable life after what they’ve already endured.
“I know . . . I’m just embarrassed,” Charlie says, a prideful tear sliding down her cheek. “We can’t go back to them, Tyler. We just can’t.”
“I’ve got you. It’s not the greatest place, but it has a roof and plumbing.” I pick up a handful of their bags and walk them over to deposit them in my truck bed. “Come on, Tweety, let’s get you to your new nest. It’s freezing out here,” I tell Jane as she runs over and enthusiastically grabs more bags.
“Where are we going?” Charlie asks skeptically as I load the last of them into my truck.
“You like apples?” I ask as we pull out of the alley.
“Love ’em,” Jane says as Charlie shrugs in indifference.
An hour later, I have them set up and warming next to a firepit at one of our labor houses at the orchard, which won’t be needed until early spring. If push comes to shove, I’ll tell Uncle Gray. He won’t like it, but he’ll allow it once I relay the situation in detail. Thinking on that, I decide to shoot off a text to Barrett relaying the same. Our relationship is on a slow mend but still strained due to Dad’s bullshit. With Barrett’s quick reply, I feel a little better leaving them there, especially after he agrees to check in on them and report back since he lives close to the labor house.
It’s when I still can’t find a mental way to wind down as I drive back across town that I find myself parking my truck and walking along the edge of the neighborhood to get to their street. Stalking toward the patch of sidewalk across from her house, her written words drive me toward it—forever on the forefront of my mind.
I told him I would leave him and woke up with a knife to my throat.
Images of her written words shutter through my mind as a rogue thought sends an uneasy skitter up my spine. Who exactly is this asshole she decided to allow to court her? And why now? I was worried she might decline during our months apart, but maybe Delphine’s made more progress, and I should be happy about it. Still, I can’t help the unease that’s been sneaking in all night at the thought of any man entering her life and their treatment toward her after what she’s survived.
It’s when I corner her street that my sudden ill-at-ease premonition is confirmed as Delphine’s shriek reaches me.
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