Page 21 of War Games (Jacky Leon #11)

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CHAPTER TWENTY

C limbing down was dangerous, mostly due to the fact that I wasn’t a professional climber. My hands hurt as I fought to get down the rocky cliffside, leaving blood on different hand holds I was trying to use. I was lucky there were ledges I’d be able to stand on at different points.

Halfway down the cliffside, I wondered why I was climbing down, frowning as I looked down, unable to remember why I thought this had been a good idea. I had to finish getting down now, though. If I tried climbing back up, the fall I would inevitably have would be even worse.

With less than twenty-five percent of the climb down finished, my arms were shaking from overexertion. I was finally lower than the tallest trees and into the last leg of my task. When I reached my last safe ledge, I could see the bottom. A fall could still break bones, but the right landing wouldn’t be fatal. It was still a solid thirty feet, which meant I didn’t want to fall, but it wouldn’t kill me anymore.

I rested, staring at the glowing dawn through the trees, wondering if I had climbed all night. I couldn’t remember why I was even there or what possessed me to pick up rock climbing as a hobby, but at least the view was magical, the light catching on the leaves.

“Okay, let’s finish this and figure out what I’m doing out here,” I said, shaking my head in frustration at my situation.

It was harder, the cliffside slicker as some pieces were covered in moss or just wet. With ten feet to go, I couldn’t find a place to put my feet and knew I was going to fall.

I decided to jump instead, aiming to control it rather than slip and panic. With a hard thud, I hit the ground with my legs, sending me down to my knees, then into the dirt. I wasn’t good enough to do a fancy roll or anything.

That was a shit landing. Ouch.

I pushed to stand up, knowing my knees were going to be bruised and swelling before the hour was up. I looked over my surroundings, not recognizing the trees, not sure where I could possibly be.

That confusion only lasted for a second, then it clicked.

Oh, home is nearby. I’ve never been over this way with the sun up.

I started walking, knowing the area more as I went.

I must have left last night and fallen asleep instead of getting home. That must be it. I must have gotten into an argument with them again.

I reached the trail I needed and saw my house come into view. A simple suburban-style home built on a nice piece of property since my parents didn’t want to live in town now with Gwen and me in college.

There was a cold note to the breeze, and the trees had some red and yellow leaves left on the branches as I approached home.

“I hate being home for the holidays,” I muttered. “It always ends like this. They’re going to be pissed I left for the night. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself.”

I saw the cars parked outside, along with my ride. My one note of rebellion, something to piss them off, but they couldn’t do anything about it. I bought the motorcycle at nineteen, deciding I didn’t want just some bicycle to get to class. I still had the car they got me at sixteen, which was fine when I needed to get groceries, but I didn’t want to put unnecessary miles on it if I didn’t have to. It wasn’t brand new like Gwen’s, who had better grades, so they gave her a better car.

So, at nineteen, I got the motorcycle. Mom hated it, and the thought of that made me smile because it was at least reasonable for her to hate, unlike everything she hated about me.

I didn’t knock, going straight through the front door, wondering why my hand was stinging. I looked down to see the road rash on my hands. I could feel it on my elbow as well.

“Jacky, there you are! We’ve been waiting on you,” my mother said, already exasperated. She was suddenly in front of me and grabbed my hand. “Did you wreck that awful thing? This is what happens. Look at what you did to yourself.”

“No,” I snapped, pulling my hand back, hating how she could just grab me like that.

“Why can’t you sell that thing? We got you a perfectly good car.”

“It broke down three times since I started school. I needed something to commute to classes, and it was the cheapest option,” I said, trying to walk around her. “We have this conversation every time. I only drive that car when I need the space. I can’t let it break down again. I can’t afford to replace it or keep repairing it.”

“Well—”

“Enough, Mom. Let me wash my hands and clean this out,” I said, trying to get away from her by going into the half bathroom under the stairs. I tried to close the door, but a foot blocked it.

“Take a deep breath,” Gwen said, pushing in further. “You know that motorcycle is dangerous.”

“Yup,” I said, letting the water get warm before putting my raw hands underneath it, trying to clean out any potential debris. “Where’s Dad?”

“He was called into the office,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “On Thanksgiving of all days.”

Sure, called into work on Thanksgiving. Like anyone really believes that. He’s just hanging out with the “boys” so they can all avoid their families.

“I’ve been helping Mom in the kitchen since he left. You should join us, though… wear some gloves.”

“Mom never lets me help in the kitchen,” I reminded her.

“That’s not true.” Gwen reached out and pushed my shoulder lightly. “Come on.”

“I don’t know what weird timeline you live in, but in reality, Mom never lets me help with holiday meals. I’ll go in there, gloves or not, and she’ll say I’m doing everything wrong. Then I’ll get kicked out. After we eat, she’ll lament how you two had to work so hard to prepare everything, and my ungrateful ass couldn’t be bothered to help.”

“She doesn’t do that,” Gwen said softly.

I could smell something odd in the air, and that something made me look at her.

Liar.

“Then Dad will yell at me for being such a terrible daughter and how he raised me better and wonder why I just can’t be more like you,” I continued, ignoring her interruption and my insane thought that Gwen was lying. Gwen didn’t lie to me. She lived a different life than me and refused to recognize it.

“If it’s so bad, why do you even come home?” Gwen asked, crossing her arms as her gentle expression turned into a glare.

I wondered how other twins did, being so close and happy. Sometimes, I just wanted to strangle mine for asking questions like that.

“Because all of you will call me crying and getting angry if I don’t,” I answered, shaking my head. “So, I come home, hoping I finally have something good enough for them to praise me for instead of nitpicking every wrong.”

“Must be hard being you, Jacky, with all your friends and being popular enough to go to all the parties?—”

“I would trade all of that if my parents didn’t hate me for getting a B in biology.”

“Well, biology is really important in pre-med.”

“Stop. It was a B, not a failing grade. I was sick for two weeks and missed labs. Did they care? No.”

“You were fine. You could have still gone to the labs, Jacky.”

Gwen’s lack of sympathy made me roll my eyes. I had a fever of one-hundred-and-three and lost twenty pounds because I could barely eat anything and keep it down. I had gone to the hospital after a week and spent three days there.

You could have gone to the labs, they say. Yeah, let’s find out how many labs I miss if I’m dead.

There were days I wasn’t even sure I was doing what I wanted with my life. Did I like the idea of pre-med and hopefully being a doctor one day? I wasn’t sure anymore. I wanted to help people, and it was a way to help.

“Gwen, I need you in the kitchen,” our mom called out. Gwen left me without another word. I closed the door and finished cleaning out my hands, then my elbow. I found the first aid kit in the cabinet underneath the sink and finished up before leaving the bathroom to face the music of spending an awful holiday with my family.

My dad arrived after that. I was hovering just outside the kitchen when he walked through the front door. He didn’t look excited to see me. Sadly, even though we were identical twins, I was never mistaken for Gwen, which meant I would never accidentally receive the love or adoration they gave her.

“Jacqueline,” he said, shaking his head as he looked down and probably saw my hands. “That stupid, irresponsible motorcycle finally did some damage to you, did it? Maybe you’ll sell it now.”

“How was work?” I asked, ignoring his attitude.

“Good.” He put his coat on the rack, and I didn’t move as he got closer. He wanted to go into the kitchen, and I was in the way. Both Gwen and Mom were absorbed in what they were doing, neither even realizing I was talking to him.

“Go in there and help them,” he ordered.

“That’s all you’re going to say about work? It’s Thanksgiving. They made you work.” I frowned as something floral and awful hit my nose. I had thought it came from outside when he opened the door, but it was so strong now.

Perfume. Feminine.

No, he always hangs out with the guys on holidays to avoid us.

Something about the world tilted on me.

“I need some air,” I gasped, weaving around him. Something was wrong .

I escaped out the front door, taking large, heaving breaths, trying to banish the smell and the thoughts swirling in my head.

No. I can’t be thinking of that. Not right now. What I would give to forget…

The door opened and closed behind me, my dad having followed me out. He was quickly in my face, grabbing my arm.

“Pull yourself together, or I’m cutting you off for the last time, Jacqueline. I don’t know what sort of drugs you might be on to act this?—”

“I’m not on any drugs, asshole,” I growled, and it sounded inhuman. My father didn’t seem to notice. He did take note of how I yanked my arm away from him.

“You have been a troublemaker for years. I don’t know what you’re getting up to in college or what upset you, but you will pull yourself together and behave if you want to be in this house for the holidays.”

“Why do you smell like perfume?” I asked in a soft hiss.

“I don’t. See? Always looking to make a problem for everyone.” He scoffed and went back inside.

Liar.

I waited outside, trying to forget the smell that made me think he was lying. I don’t know why. I could smell the perfume. Mom and Gwen were going to notice. It wasn’t Mom’s. I knew the smell of hers, and she never had it on so strong.

I could hear them talking. Dad said I was just saying things and picking a fight with him for having to work on Thanksgiving. Gwen didn’t speak up at all as our mom was already starting in on about how I could never be bothered to help them with the holidays, that I was only there for the free food, driving in on my death trap of a motorcycle.

I’d help if you let me, but you don’t even try to teach me how to make anything the way you like. Every time I try, you say I can just figure it out by watching… but you don’t let me watch.

I rubbed my face, wondering how I could hear them so well. They were practically yelling about how much of a piece of trash I was, how I wasn’t a good enough daughter, how Gwen was so perfect and helpful and smart. I was an attention seeker who might need professional help.

I’m doing my best! I get good grades. I drive safely. I’ve never been arrested, suspended from school, or skipped class.

“Hey, Jacky, it’s time to eat,” Gwen said, sticking her head out the front door. It was enough to break me out of my internal dialogue, saying the things I wished they could hear from me. “Come on.”

I groaned, wondering if I really wanted to put myself through all that. I relented, knowing Gwen liked having the entire family together for the holidays. When she called and cried about how I was thinking about skipping this painful ritual, I felt it came from a good place. She just wanted her entire family there. My parents just wanted to find everything they could wrong about me, and skipping important family holidays to them must mean I was being a delinquent somewhere else.

I sat down in my regular spot at the table, staying quiet as food was passed around. I listened to Gwen say grace, always doing it so perfectly, so my parents asked her to every year.

“You couldn’t change into something nicer to sit down at the table?” our mother asked me once Gwen was done.

“There’s never been a dress code when it’s just us,” I said, not sure why this was going to be my mom’s line of attack this time. I looked at Gwen finally, taking in how she had switched her t-shirt for a blouse while I had been outside.

God fucking damn it, Gwen. We were both fine in jeans and t-shirts, and you’ve gone and upped their expectations on me again.

“I didn’t even bring anything like that with me this time,” I admitted, pointing at Gwen’s top.

“Then you won’t be in the family photos this year,” our father said, shaking his head. “Not looking like a slob. I want to use these for the Christmas cards.”

I glared at him, unable to stop my temper from snapping.

“And you think smelling like some other woman’s perfume is acceptable?” I growled. “Because you do. It’s really fucking obvious. How could you do that to Mom?”

I didn’t see it coming.

My mother reached across the table and slapped me hard .

“You will not destroy this family by starting obscene rumors and causing drama, Jacqueline. Get out.”

I rocked back from the power of her slap. Without a word, I got up from the table and walked out, grabbed the first jacket I could get my hands on from the coat rack, and left.

It was bitterly cold outside now, snow beginning to fall as the sun was going down once again. My cheek burned because of how hard she slapped me. My eyes burned from the deeper wound she had torn across my heart.

I ran into the trees, not paying attention to where I was going, fighting the tears that would freeze on my cheek if I let them free. I had no idea where to go or what to do. I couldn’t go home. There was no way I could go home.

It was pitch black by the time I stopped running, panting as I leaned against a tree. I slid down, closing my eyes.