Love Hurts: The Love Duet Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Leah Sharelle

  Love Heals: A Love Duet — Book One

  By Leah Sharelle

  All Rights Reserved.

  Editing and Proofreading: R Corcoran

  Cover Model: Derek Stephens.

  Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Interior Design: RMJ Manuscript Service LLC

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author, and your support and respect are appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This author writes using Australian English and may include Australian diction.

  Something from Leah

  This is Jason’s story. It is part of a duet.

  This takes place before there was any of the Flock, and tells the story of Deck and Jason’s turbulent relationship. You get to see the Souls before their women came along and pulled their heads out of their butts.

  You also get to see the birth of the Wounded Souls princess.

  This is told completely from Jason’s POV.

  I like to make things hard for myself, to challenge my writing and creative skills. Or maybe I just don’t need sleep.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  FROM LEAH

  Also by Leah Sharelle

  Connect with Leah Sharelle

  About the Author

  To those who have loved fiercely and lost painfully.

  Chapter 1

  “What? You think just because you joined up you are some kind of hero or something?” I asked my brother Deck, the wanker that I endured being a twin with, unfortunately.

  “I don’t want to work on a building site for the rest of my life brother.” Deck had worked on various construction crews since seventeen. He had a gift for building but the effort of an apprenticeship not so much.

  We both worked in the building industry, I enjoyed working with my hands but like Deck, I didn’t want to do it forever. He shocked me with his decision to join the army, Deck wasn’t one for being told what to do for a minute let alone all day every day.

  “So you’d rather dodge bullets and risk your life every day?” I asked, secretly worried for my brother but there was no way he was gonna find that out from me.

  “Better than sitting around on my arse all day mooching off Mum and Dad,” Deck drawled. And that was how our latest back and forth insult throwing session sparked off.

  We went at it for a good ten minutes before the booming voice of our father interrupted us.

  “For fuck’s sake boys! Can you give it a fucking rest? It’s the same shit different bucket with you two,” Dad yelled at us, walking into the lounge room with a thunderous look on his face.

  “Twins are supposed to like each other; you better stop this shit before your mother comes in from the garden because if you hurt her today, I will rip both of your heads off and shit down your necks.”

  Both Deck and I mouthed the threat at the same time Dad did, for him it was his go-to threat. He said it at least ten times a week, even more when we all lived under the same roof.

  Deck moved out with his mate Booth a year ago, giving me the chance to have a break from our constant bickering and pounding of each other.

  Our house wasn’t huge, a typical two-bedroom Aussie-style bungalow. It belonged to my dad’s parents, and it got passed to him when gran and gramps passed away, a month from each other.

  At the time Deck and I were only five so sharing a room then hadn’t been too horrible. At five we fought but nothing like the years that followed.

  Deck was older than me by fifteen minutes, and Mum always said fondly that I took my sweet time making my appearance and nothing was gonna make me move until I was ready, which gave the doctor a few anxious grey hairs trying to expedite my arrival into the real world.

  Deck on the other hand, said that fifteen minutes gave him the time to be the favourite, that Mum bonded with him first.

  What the fuck ever, Deck could go fuck himself. We weren’t technically identical twins medically speaking, but we looked a hell of a lot alike. Small differences set us apart physically, I even went so far as to grow my hair longer than his, even grew a beard to set myself apart from him. Still some people found it difficult at times, but personality wise we were worlds apart.

  Where Deck was charismatic and charming with the ladies, I was stand-offish.

  Where Deck was popular and more of a leader, I was a loner.

  And Deck had to be the hero, all the fucking time. Hence why he and his mates; Booth, Cooper and Mannix Steel, Creed and Darth joined the Australian Army.

  Of course, he hadn’t asked me to join with them, why would he? It wasn’t as if he or the five wise-arse men, as I liked to refer to his friends, ever thought of including me in any of their escapades.

  Not that I gave a shit… okay, I did care that they had a bond of brotherhood. They were the stars of the neighbourhood; everyone wanted to know them and everyone wanted to be them.

  “You two are twenty-one years old, isn’t it time you put this childish bullshit aside and act like brothers for a change. The amount of times I have knocked your heads together over the years surely I dislodged the immature side of your brains,” Dad said, taking his usual place in his leather lounge chair, remote in one hand and a beer in the other.

  “It’s not my fault the fifteen minutes he was inside longer than me caused brain-damage,” Deck replied with a smirk

  Raising my hand, I motioned my middle finger being wound up giving him the bird.

  “Fuck you, dickhead,” I muttered.

  “At least I can fuck, dickwad,” sneered Deck.

  “Boys, stop bickering. I swear you two are still ten years old,” Mum said entering the lounge, her gardening gloves still on her hands. “And watch your language both of you. One day the neighbours will call the police and we will be on the evening news.”

  Again, Deck and I mouthed silently Mum’s usual response whenever she caught us in a war of f-bombs. The woman was convinced the neighbours listened to us, and would one day call the cops on us. What she didn’t know was the people that lived either side of us sometimes sat in their yards and laughed at our antics. The Johnston twins bickering was legendary in our street that was for sure.

  “Decker honey, when are your little friends due to arrive? I have some scones in the oven, I want to whip up some cream before they get here so your afternoon tea is ready,” Mum said going up to Deck and ruffling his hair with her muddy gloved hand.

  I couldn’t help snickering when Mum used Deck’s given birth name. Why she called one twin after a power tool brand baffled both of us, but I was grateful I got a decent normal everyday name.

  Deck hated it, and insisted at a very young age that it was to be shortened to Deck, and even went to great lengths having it changed by deed pole when he turned eighte
en.

  “Jesus Mum, you got dirt in my hair for fu—.”

  “Do no not finish that sentence young man or I will wash your mouth out with soap,” Mum warned in her sternest voice. “My goodness I hope the army teaches you better manners than I have tried to teach you. Both of you have the mouths of a sewer.”

  “No fucking chance of that happening love, your sons are a lost cause when it comes to manners,” Dad piped up, turning down the volume on the TV while an ad was on. Dad hated television ads, those and anything not Australian made.

  “Mum, the army is more about training and shit, I’m not joining up to learn public speaking,” Deck commented, “and for the love of god call me Deck, it cost me one hundred bucks to change my name to something better than being called after a power drill.”

  “Oh, you will always be my Black and Decker, baby boy,” Mum cooed, making Dad burst out laughing.

  “Sorry son, by the time the nurse came and got me from the waiting room, your mother had already named you. Fortunately, I saved your brother from a fate worse than death, being named after tools is nothing compared to a life-sized bear puppet. Jason was a bee’s dick away from living with the name Humphrey.”

  I shivered at the close call, Humphrey B. Bear was an Australian TV show for kids started in the sixties. Basically, a man walked around in a bear costume, didn’t utter a word and spoke by charades. I thanked God every day Dad put his foot down and insisted mum use my late uncle’s name.

  “Such a distinguished name,” Mum mused with dreamy eyes.

  The sound of a hotted-up muscle car broke the argument that was threatening to ensue, thankful for the first time the idiots turned up.

  “Your posse I believe,” I said to my brother with a raised brow.

  “Your hand on your dick, again,” Deck quipped going to the door to meet his mates.

  “At least mine won’t fall off. You should try being more selective who you stick it in brother,” I muttered, he couldn’t hear me, but our twin thing wasn’t completely non-existent, we just chose for a long time to tune it out.

  Our connection was rarely used, if ever. Getting inside Deck’s head would only give me a sexually transmitted disease.

  “You know, if you and your brother put as much effort liking each other as you do thinking up brilliant insults, life in this house would be much friendlier,” Dad muttered.

  “Maybe, but what would you do for entertainment during the ad breaks old man?” Giving Dad a wink, I snagged my Discman off the coffee table. I could hear the loud voices of the muscle posse, and they were the last people I wanted to see right now. Not that they weren’t a good bunch of blokes, they were all right. But, put them all in one room, and I became the brunt of all their jokes with Deck leading the pack.

  “Gonna go to my room, tell Deck to come see me before he shoots off,” I said to my father before I walked out of the room.

  “Righto son. You tell Deck your news yet?”

  I stopped and turned around to look at Dad, I could see by the look on his face he already knew the answer.

  “Not in the mood to hear shit about how becoming a cop isn’t on the same level as a soldier, Dad. Just let him have this moment to himself, later I will write and tell him.”

  I didn’t hang around to see the inevitable look of disappointment I knew he would give me. My parents hated that Deck and I raged war on one another rather than be the loving, supportive twins they wanted.

  It wasn’t that I hated my brother. I loved him; he was my brother and twin. But it was something neither of us could help or control, from the age of three fighting became our normal way of life. We had our moments but not many if I was being honest.

  It hurt our mother the most.

  She used to create situations where Deck and I had to be together, our two-bedroom house being the perfect example. But much to her chagrin all it managed to do was create more animosity. Yelling as three-year-olds, turned into pushing and shoving as six-year-olds then as the years passed, full-blown fist fights.

  We had always been big kids, built like our dad, we learned early on of our penchant for boxing. The only difference was we used each other as a punching bag and not an actual one.

  Entering my room, I flopped down on the bottom bunk, grimacing when I hit my head.

  “Who the fuck has bunk beds at twenty-one?” I muttered, rubbing the top of my head.

  Last year Deck moved out to live with Booth and Darth, giving me the room for myself. Mum had cried for days after he moved, and refused to change out the bunks for a double bed. So here I was twenty-one years old and still occupying the bottom bunk.

  Slipping my earphones over my ears, I lost myself in some soothing tunes from AC/DC, original band member Bon Scott was my favourite singer, not that Brian didn’t do a good job but you had to have loyalty, ya know?

  “Hey pencil dick, I gotta get moving,” Deck shouted at me, his big foot kicking my bed to get my attention.

  “Huh,” I replied groggily, surprised that I must have fallen asleep.

  “Dude I don’t understand how you can sleep with music blaring in your ears,” Deck said with a frown. “I am leaving now,” he repeated, indicating his watch.

  I rubbed my hands over my face, then climbed carefully off the bed, my head still throbbed from the earlier bump.

  “Said bye to Mum yet?” I asked as I set my Discman down on my pillow.

  “Yeah, she is a bit of a mess, be warned.”

  “Dad will have fun with that,” I replied laughing.

  “True. So…” Deck said giving me a smirk, one eyebrow raised.

  “Look after yourself brother. Get through basic in one piece, and don’t go being a hero. Mum wouldn’t survive if anything happens to your ugly face.”

  “Nothing bad is gonna happen, it will be some time before I get deployed. And even then, I may not get to see any action, and if I do— look out,” Deck said, with the cockiness only Deck possessed.

  “All right then, well see you in a few months maybe.” Holding out my hand for Deck, he took it.

  “See ya Jay, do something useful while I am gone.”

  The narky dig at my lack of motivation in Deck’s opinion, burned at me. His assumption that I didn’t have goals pissed me off and the immediate retort tasted bitter as I held it back. Mum didn’t need any more need to be upset for today.

  Instead I smiled at him, “You never know Decker, I may just surprise you.”

  “Maybe you will,” he agreed, “stay gold pony-boy, catch ya in a few.” Deck said chuckling at his reference to a book we had to read in high school. Back then I was very impressionable, looking to find my way from out of Deck’s shadow. When our teacher forced us to read the young adult novel, I found myself very interested in the storyline. I may or may not have gone through a phase where I slicked my hair back with hair gel and lived in a denim jacket for six months, even took up smoking until my old man found me smoking in the backyard and made me eat a cigarette as punishment. It worked, for the most part. Occasionally I still lit up when I was drunk, which wasn’t very much these days.

  Deck turned to leave, his frame so much like mine from the back. A twinge of something pulled at my heart strings, making me a sappy idiot and about to give Deck more ammunition for future insults. Like it or not, Deck was my brother, my twin. I loved him, just didn’t like him all that much. But to see harm come to him or worse? Nope I didn’t want that.

  “Deck?”

  “Yeah,” he asked looking over his shoulder at me.

  “Duty and Honour brother,” I said, repeating the motto for the Australian army and infantry units. When Deck told us of his intention to join up, I did my own research. Secretly I had wanted to join with him, the old saying ‘if he can do then so can I’ my reason. But in the end, I thought the police force was a much better fit for me. Plus, there was the whole competition thing we had going. Knowing my brother, he would have taunted me to try and catch a bullet between my teeth or something equ
ally as fucked up.

  He snorted a laugh but his blue eyes, identical to mine softened.

  “Find your path Jason and kick its arse. You’ve got it inside you, maybe with me out of the way for a while—” Deck didn’t finish what he was going to say, but I knew what it was. Deep down Deck knew I resented him, well not him just his appeal to the opposite sex and Mum, and his easy-going nature. How two people that were born at the same time ended up so different was the question to which I had no answer.

  Being away from one another might just help me find the solution.

  Chapter 2

  “Fuck that was a brutal day,” my bunk mate Robbo grumbled from above me.

  If I had the energy to answer him; my whole body was screaming at me for a hot shower and my stomach growling for food, I would have agreed with his assessment of our day.

  This was my last week at the Victorian Police Academy. Thirty-one weeks of physical training and classroom theory, and in two days all of my hard work was going to pay off by graduating.

  The minute I walked through the gates at the Glen Waverly training facility, I felt a sense of home. And while my two hundred and eighty classmates grumbled and groaned at the end of each of the last two hundred and fifteen days, I fell into bed feeling closer and closer to my goal.

  For the first time, in my life, I really felt like I belonged. I thrived on every element of the training schedule, classwork, the lot. Hell, I even enjoyed traffic work.

  And now I was near the end of being here and ready for my first placement; at a station only the powers to be knew. There I would perform general duties such as patrolling the streets or highway and more mundane tasks like drug and alcohol testing, for a total of twenty weeks.