Give Me Hell (Give Me #4)

“Mac and I are going skateboarding down at the local park.”

My nostrils quiver with instant excitement. Enough to ignore the insulting Princess nickname Jake gave me earlier. My brothers have their own skateboards. I don’t. It’s not a female activity. Being the youngest and the only girl might make me mightier than Maximus Meridius himself, but it’s zero fun. I’m not allowed to do half of what my brothers do. Instead, I get imprisoned in my little ivory tower and treated like glass.

I do admit to being a slight trouble magnet, but I can’t help my nature. I don’t have a death wish, I’m just determined to prove that I can do whatever my brothers can: whether that’s shooting at the range, punching a school bully in the playground, or paddling out beyond the ocean break to surf the big waves.

There have been a few incidents over the years, like the time I shot Jared in the face with a paintball gun, but he taunted me by saying I couldn’t hit him square in the nose from twenty paces. I might have missed, but not by much; my aim was a little too far to the left and he almost lost an eye. Then there were the suspensions from school for fighting … but I can’t see how it’s my fault for being honest. It seems people don’t like hearing the truth about themselves. It makes them angry and violent. And while I don’t like to start fights, I sure as hell like to finish them.

Mitch is already shaking his head at Jake and my blood boils.

“That’s right,” I say with a firm voice to my brother, corroborating Jake’s story. “We’re going skateboarding, which means there’s no time for reclining by the pool. We have a park to get to.”

Mitch rears up. “Oh hell no, Mac. You—”

Eli slaps a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Dude, let her go.” He offers me a wink. “Be safe.”

I grin in return before shooting sullen eyes at my brother. “Later, asshead,” I tell him as I snatch up Jake’s hand and tug on it, leading him toward the sliding doors that open to the back of the house. It’s our first contact and my skin hums. It’s like being attacked with static electricity.

“I’ll be telling Mum about this!” Mitch shouts to our backs.

Anger twists my belly into a knot, yet I keep moving. It’s Jake that stops and turns, forcing me to a grinding halt. “Actually it was your mother’s suggestion,” he tells my brother.

Mitch’s eyes widen. He’s completely dumbfounded. Even Eli appears a little taken aback. “It was?”

I am too. Skateboarding isn’t a ladylike endeavour. It also goes against Mum’s mantra of keeping me unattached from the strays she brings home. “It was?” I echo.

“No,” he says in a voice low enough that only I can hear. His hand squeezes mine, and my breath hitches from the renewed sensation. “Just roll with it.”

“It was,” I say to Mitch, and just like that Jake becomes my very first co-conspirator in crime. “I know all the local parks.” I don’t. And I’m sure he knows it. “Mum probably thinks it’s a good idea to get out of the house. You know, sunshine, fresh air…” my eyes narrow “…and an outdoor activity that doesn’t involve smashing people in the face with volleyballs, which I’m sure she’d love to hear about.”

My jaw still throbs. I rub at the sore spot and wince a little. Mitch’s suspicious expression eases into one of contrition yet his arms still fold unhappily.

“Well, you split my pants.”

“Prove it,” I retort and pull Jake away before my brother can escalate the situation.

“Bring her back in one piece, Romero, or else!” Mitch yells to our retreating backs.

“Or else what?” Jake asks as I lead him through the back door toward the stairs.

“Eli and my brothers know how to shoot.” I let go of his hand and climb the stairs to change, saying over my shoulder, “They’re pretty damn good at it. And so am I.”

Jake waits at the bottom, looking up at me with brows high. “No shit?”

I grin. “No shit.”





Our trip to the park is an epic disaster. I struggle on the skateboard. It’s humiliating and I hate to fail. At anything. But I like to consider myself bold and fearless, so I put my game face on and persevere. The heat of embarrassment leaves my cheeks when I eventually catch on. Hours later, the sun is setting and I’m tired and sore, but I’ve begun riding that skateboard like I was born to do it. I don’t just impress Jake with my new ability, I impress myself.

Jake whoops and flies by me on his own board, encouraging me to heights of recklessness. A bolt of confidence shoots through me like an electrical charge. My legs take command of my body, forcing me to perform a manoeuvre my brothers would classify as insane.

My borrowed skateboard hits the ramp and I go up, speed whipping the hair around my face. My intention is to reach the rim and come back down, except I don’t. I’m airborne instead. My insides lurch with adrenaline as I leave solid ground behind. I literally fly for a single, exhilarating moment that I’ll never forget. It’s an incredible rush, but I come down hard and my board goes one way while I go the other.

Now I’m splayed out on the cement, staring up at the dusky afternoon sky, trying to breathe because my body is broken in a million pieces.

“Mac!” Jake yells. I turn my head. He’s running toward me, skateboard tucked under his arm and panic turning his eyes wide. His golden brown hair is mussed and cheeks tinged pink from the heat of the afternoon. Jake Romero is beautiful. How did I not see that before?

“I was awesome, wasn’t I?” I croak when he gets close. “At least tell me that before I die.”

Jake tosses his skateboard away and skids to his knees by my side, a hysterical sound of mirth leaving his lips. Rich, brown eyes scan me hurriedly. Hands reach out to prod down my limbs. “You’re not going to die, Princess.”

“I think I’ve proved I’m no princess,” I rasp.

His gaze shoots to mine, his chest rising and falling with panicked breaths. He slows it with visible effort. “I think …”

“You think?” I prompt when he trails off.

Jake’s lips press together and something equalling affection softens his features. The gold flecks in his eyes come to life, just how I knew they would. He sits back on his heels and stares as though he’s realised something monumental. “I think you’ll always be my princess.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Jake is infiltrating my heart in some kind of sneaky ninja attack. Is this a crush? Because it feels crappy and wonderful, and I don’t like it one bit.

“What?” he asks.

I shift my arm and screaming pain shoots up the limb. I cry out. “It hurts.”

He looks me over again. “Where?”

“My arm,” I gasp. “The right one.” I tip my head up, and we both look at it. The joint of my wrist is sitting at the wrong angle. Just looking at it has me breaking out in a sweat.

“Oh shit,” Jake mutters.

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